dreamt many evil dreams, but this is a nightmare. You are at peace with
a neighbouring nation. You find it necessary nevertheless to destroy
its property. Wonderful! You are in fact on the friendliest terms with
her people, to whom you owe many of your essential supplies, but you
kill them without hesitation and without mercy--Still more wonderful!
If they complain you become virtuously indignant and threaten worse
things. It is past whooping! Already over 800 neutral ships, all of
course unarmed, have been done to death. These are indeed martial
achievements. Judge of the whole by a part of the most dolorous history
in the records of civilisation. "Norway," said the _National Tidende_
in April 1917, "has lost since the beginning of the war one-third of
her mercantile marine, and about 300 of her sailors, and is now losing
5 lives daily and an average of two ships, valued at two million
kroner." Denmark has lost 150 ships, and more than 200 of her sailors
have been killed. Do not mistake. It is all pure friendliness. As
Hamlet says, "They but poison in jest." "Thirteen survivors of the crew
of the Norwegian ship _Medusa_, 1023 tons, have been landed," runs the
record of May 22, 1917, "their vessel having been shelled and sunk by
a German submarine. Seven of the thirteen were hospital cases. The
Germans in addition to not giving them any warning, continued shelling
the crew while they were lowering the boats. The bursting of the shells
scattered shrapnel which killed two men and severely wounded seven
others. One man had half his left foot blown away, and another some of
his scalp blown off, while a third had his neck lacerated."
Let us not imagine however that Germans are themselves in agreement
with respect to this warfare. Professor Flamm of Charlottenburg is
dissatisfied. In _Die Woche_ he advocates sterner dealing. Fewer men
of the crews of torpedoed vessels should be saved. Best of all would it
be if destroyed neutral ships disappeared without leaving a trace even
of wreckage. Then terror would strike at men's hearts. How charming a
friend is Professor Flamm. For it is not enemies he desires to treat
thus. It is not war he advocates, only an exposition of the German
mind. Norway, Denmark and the rest are enjoying the pleasures of peace.
Perhaps learning will supply us with a new name for these operations.
Had Germany begun the war with justice on her side her conduct of it
would long since have driven justice, a fugitive, to the opposite camp.
Into the teeth of this hurricane of hate the merchant seamen put forth,
and every hour that we watch it from sheltered homes is taking toll of
their lives. Read the long list of officers in the service that are
gone, and remember that beyond it lies a longer and more sorrowful
category still of men that held no rank nor ever thought of fame;
engineers and deck hands, boys and stokers, so that in the fishing
villages from North to South the tiniest mourns its unreturning dead.
Of the raiders, so far as it has been written, we know the record. The
sea is wide, and one might almost as well look for an escaped bird
in the forest as for a single ship in any ocean. They have had their
victims; fifty of our merchantmen were seized or sunk before the first
phase ended with the battle of the Falklands and the destruction of
Von Spee. There were of course escapes and adventures, like that of
the Pacific Steam Navigation cargo vessel and her conversation with
the _Karlsruhe_, which had information of her position and sent out a
wireless signal asking for the latitude and longitude. The operator,
instructed by the captain, sceptical soul, refused the friendly
suggestion. The polite enemy retorted, "English schweinhund. This is
German warship, _Karlsruhe_, we will you find." But the night set
in thick with misty rain, and though only a few miles distant the
English ship, heedless of angry signals, slipped away and escaped.
The subsequent disguised commerce raiders could only creep at long
intervals and under colours not their own, through the patrols, in
rain or snow storms, by circuitous routes and through territorial
waters. _Meteor_, under the Russian flag, was rounded up deserted and
destroyed by her own crew. _Berlin_ driven into Trondhjem and interned.
_Greif_ disguised as a Norwegian ship perished in the encounter with
_Alcantara_. Of these ventures, one may say, that they repeated tactics
familiar in all our wars; tactics which never yet turned the scale
or threatened to turn it. Consider now the far more serious menace
of the submarine and mine. These were weapons indeed not altogether
novel, the novelty lay in the scale and ruthless manner of their
employment; and the ruthless policy once launched, three things,
at first but dimly distinguishable amid the confusion of so vast a
conflict, took shape and form. First that the war, however long the
decision might be postponed, had entered upon its final and decisive
stage. Second that the full strength and pressure of the attack would
now be transferred from the Royal Navy to the Mercantile Marine; and
third that upon its tenacity and powers of endurance depended not the
destiny of Britain alone but that of the world. It was to be a conflict
grim and great, suited to the stupendous consequences which hung upon
the issue, a conflict without the dramatic and inspiring incidents of
engagements between embattled fleets, of monotonous almost featureless
repetitions of the same gruesome story, in which the enemy trusted to
the accumulated effect of a blow dealt again and again, and yet again,
in hardly varying circumstances, reducing with each successful effort
the maritime resources upon which the fortunes of the Alliance were
absolutely staked. Britain's capital--who is now unaware of it?--is her
shipping, and the drain upon that capital, the ceaseless call upon this
bank of national security could not fail if unarrested to compass her
ruin. Britain, and with Britain her allies, would succumb to a series
of stabs in the back.
How is one to account for the success of the submarine campaign?
The answer is that Britain was not prepared for it. Why was she not
prepared? For no other reason than that it was unthinkable. It is as if
a respectable curate of your acquaintance were to whip out a revolver
and demand your purse. You are taken by surprise for you had not
thought these things possible in your neighbourhood, and particularly
not to be expected from a clergyman. The world did not anticipate
the new code of morals, more especially from a people of culture. It
simplifies the business of the highwayman if you have believed him to
be an evangelist. Deceived by the spectacles and the missionary manner
Britain left her merchant ships unarmed, and was quite unprovided with
mines or any other defensive machinery for her traders. By the law and
custom of the nations merchant vessels must not be destroyed at sea but
brought into port, and become prizes of war only if condemned after
a judicial enquiry. From the first these provisions of international
law were thrown aside by Germany. That they had existed, that
civilisation had trusted and that she herself had endorsed them gave
her a magnificent advantage. She took advantage--the most hideous form
of depravity--of the world's growth in goodness. It was felt however
that something might be pardoned to an enemy in sore straits, and even
Britain made no angry complaint. Having discarded civilised usage as
regards property and discarded it in vain the temptation assailed her
to descend another step and disregard considerations of humanity. At
first, as one knows, the crews and passengers of torpedoed ships were
given a chance to escape death. Then, reaching the lowest rung of the
malevolent ladder, Germany bowed farewell to her last scruple. _Facilis
descensus Averni._ Free yourself from restraint, lay aside obligations
moral and legal, and for the destruction of commerce you have in the
submarine a weapon without equal, an immoral inspiration. Unaware that
the world, had outgrown morals, that chivalry was wholly out of date,
Britain taken aback had, it may be confessed, no ready or immediate
answer, and it seemed indeed as if the new instrument possessed
qualities unanswerable, borrowed from the region of fable. Only in
fables does one put on at will the mantle of invisibility or don
invulnerable armour. To see without being seen; to cover yourself with
a garment upon which blows fall in vain--these powers suggest magic
or dealings with the infernal world. How is an enemy to be resisted
who can attack unexpectedly and, if threatened, vanish like a dream?
Each of our merchant vessels, it has been said is like an unarmed man
walking down a dark lane infested with armed highwaymen. Carrying 30 or
40 of a crew, armed with a gun for surface fighting, and that terrible
and devastating weapon, the torpedo, for the secret offensive, capable
of an underwater speed--8-10 knots--equal to, and a surface speed of
18 to 20 knots--far in excess of the average trader; with a radius of
action extending to three or four thousand miles, and the capacity of
remaining at sea for months at a time, one need feel no surprise that
the world rings with the performances of this submersible cruiser.
The torpedo is in itself a mechanism of uncanny quality; nothing else
than a small vessel, costing £1,000 to build, it moves with a speed
of 40 knots, is propelled by its own engines and directed by its
own steering gear. Effective at any range under 10,000 yards, given
position at the range of a couple of miles it may easily kill; at a
mile it kills infallibly. Supply your merchantmen with guns and you
drive the submarine to shelter, but you do not disarm it, and though
it must manœuvre for position to discharge a successful torpedo, if
the missile take effect, a single shot usually suffices. The German
submarine hates the gun behind which stands a British crew, and prefers
the warfare in which blow cannot be returned for blow. No Briton
dislikes a fair fight, or doubts of his success in it, but a warfare in
which he can neither see nor retaliate upon the foe, in which his hands
are tied, strikes his simple and uncultured mind as cowardly. There is
nothing for it but to run away, and for running away Britons are by
nature little adapted.
Of the capital expended by Germany on this campaign 15 or 20 millions
at least already lie in the ocean depths; but side by side with
these millions lies the uncounted wealth of the slaughtered ships
and cargoes. Only when we perceive the true character of the weapon
and the value of the campaign can the endurance and achievements of
the merchant sailor emerge for us into the full sunshine of their
splendour. Examine the matter coolly and one sees that the submarine
owes its success as much to its novelty as to its inherent capacities.
The limitations and defects are as obvious as the qualities. Virtually
powerless on the surface against armed vessels of high speed like
destroyers, completely submerged it has hearing indeed but not sight.
It can obtain little or no knowledge of the drift of current and tide
and is blind to surrounding dangers. Above water it can be rammed or
shelled, below it can be netted or mined. Strange things have happened
to it at the hands of ingenious skippers. Anchors have rudely disturbed
its repose when nestling in the sand, and an enterprising seaman
has been known to leap aboard a rising vessel, lay about him with a
hammer, smash the periscope tube and deprive the aggrieved monster,
like another Polyphemus, of his single eye. Against observation or
attack from the air, too, the submarine is wholly without defence. It
is incapable of descending to great depths and rarely dives lower than
50 feet. The dirigible or hydroplane poised above it is master of the
situation, can discover its presence at a great depth, and with ease
and perfect security destroy it, either when it emerges or even by
means of explosives below the surface.
"Spotting" is everything, for once spotted there is little hope for
the monster. A signal calls to his lair the neighbouring patrols and
surrounded by a swarm of hostile craft he is quickly given the choice
of ascending to surrender or descending for ever. To this mastery the
comparative freedom of the English Channel from submarine depredations
is largely due. Life aboard such a craft is not without its terrors
and bad moments, while it creeps through channels where the water is
shoal or puts up its periscope in an unlucky spot. We may be sure that
black care sits in the cabin with the crew, a justified uneasiness.
The end may be very sudden and of a kind one hardly likes to think of.
Mistakes--and mistakes with half trained crews are inevitable--bring
quick disaster. The deep sea pirates aboard super-submarines operating
on the trade routes have lighter hearts no doubt than those engaged in
the narrow seas, but exits and entrances are not without peril, as the
North Sea depths could reveal. Yet their work goes forward, and the
last sentences of this barbaric sea history are not yet written.
What of the defence in this crafty and lawless war, and what counter
measures have been taken? Apart from the continual patrolling of
dangerous areas and the vigilant antisubmarine warfare conducted by
the warders of the sea routes, the secrets of which none may reveal,
broadly stated, the only present reply to torpedo attack consists in
some form of evasion. A thousand busy brains are at work, but were an
answer discovered to-day how many months would be needed to prepare
and supply the necessary gear to some three or four thousand ships?
Meanwhile traffic instructions form a separate and highly developed
section of Admiralty work. Shipping Intelligence Officers at the ports,
in close conjunction with the Customs Officers issue route orders,
varying with the needs of the hour, to each British ship outward bound.
To neutrals advice is tendered. Orders for homeward bound vessels are
now issued at foreign ports in the Western hemisphere or elsewhere
by the Consular officers, assisted by men of sea-faring experience
specially instructed. In addition, masters have very precise schooling
in the arts of avoiding hostile craft. That these arts have their
value experience proves, and of the various devices zigzagging has
been found perhaps the most effective. The attacking submarine sights
her prospective prey and notes the course. She then manœuvres
to bring her torpedo-tubes to bear, and submerges. But the helm on
the approaching vessel is meanwhile put over to port or starboard
and the favourable position is lost. Reduced in speed and turning
power by submersion, the submarine commander is thrown out. Again he
manœuvres for position but finds his target has again shifted her
helm and escaped him. Zigzagging however adds materially to the length
of the voyage and the time consumed by it is cordially disliked by
skippers. A temptation naturally assails men of their breed to make a
dash for it. Time, too, is always a consideration, and the risks to
a vessel of less than 10 knots speed are not appreciably diminished
by its adoption. For an 8 knot boat, and many of the most valuable
traders can hardly attain a greater pace, the increase in the length
of the voyage and the time involved balance or eliminate the advantage
of this and other palliatives. In the nature of the case there can be
no immediate remedy for the disease. Merchant ships--that is the root
of the trouble--are not built to resist torpedoes. Possibly such ships
might be built, possibly a cure for this sea malady may yet be found.
But to combat a new plague or pestilence the physician must have time
to study the devastating organism and its peculiar properties. The
study proceeds. The arming of merchantmen, a preliminary and successful
measure, was necessary to drive the U-boat below the surface. There,
capable only of torpedo attack, it loses half its observing, half its
striking powers. But the true defence is a vigorous offensive, which is
the business not of merchantmen but of patrol and fighting ships. They
are at work in daily increasing numbers, they employ new and ingenious
devices, they are happy and confident. But the veil is never lifted.
A deep, gloomy, mysterious silence prevails. Where her submarines are
lost, how they are lost Germany is ignorant. Each goes forth on its
mission, with uncertainty at the prow and misgiving at the helm. All
the enemy knows is that vessel after vessel fails to return, that they
run like sand through the fingers. How many submarines does Germany
possess? Probably, including the mine-layers, the number does not much,
if at all, exceed two hundred, and of these only a proportion can be at
sea in any given week or month, perhaps a third. Submarines, despite
Germany's boasts, one of her favourite weapons, cannot be built in a
day nor yet a month, and crews are worse than useless with less than
half a year's training. The end is not in sight but the barometer of
hope must already be falling fast. "If the submarine attack against
England be defeated," said Herr Ballin, "it will be a miracle, and
I do not believe in miracles." One looks forward with interest to
the conversion of Herr Ballin to a less sceptical theology. His
philosophical countrymen will no doubt supply him with the necessary
metaphysic.
As for ourselves and our lack of foresight in this matter, let us not
be too critical. We misjudged human nature, that is all. We believed
some species of it were extinct. We believed there were things of which
white men were not capable. For this noble error, and it was noble,
we pay the price, and are not without compensation. Since none can
judge of a vessel's seaworthiness in harbour, none can judge of the
spirit of a man or race until it encounters the storm. And if again the
superb courage and shining of the British sailor has been proved, if
we have been reminded that as a nation with him we stand or fall, we
may be magnanimous, and return polite thanks to an enemy that has made
these things clear, who has liberated yet again the flashing spirit of
liberty. The stars still shine for us above the wild weather of the
world.
THE MINE-FISHERS
In any weather
They flock'd together,
Birds of a feather,
Through Dover Strait;
The seas that kiss'd her
Brought tramp or drifter
From ports that miss'd her
In flag and freight;
Trawler and whaler
And deep-sea sailer,
They would not fail her
At danger's gate.
Almost before a gun had spoken the fishermen rallied to their country's
aid. Some few indeed were off the Danish coast or far North, Iceland
way, unconscious that a more feverish business than fishing had begun,
and heard the astonishing news only on their return from waters already
troubled. Which of us knows anything of this community or thought
it essential to our naval efficiency? Yet if anywhere the spirit of
personal independence survives, they cherish it these men, Britons to
the bone, wedded to freedom since their ancestors came in their long
galleys out of the North East to harry the Saxon farmers. Take English
and Scotch together and you may number the East Coast fishermen at a
hundred thousand, and their ships, trawlers and drifters, accustomed to
voyage to the Polar ice or the White Sea, at some three thousand six
hundred. Of these perhaps four hundred of the slower and more ancient
craft, the lame ducks of the flotillas, some of them of outlandish
type and antiquated gear, manned by boys and men past service in the
wars, still drag their trawls or lie to their nets to keep the markets
supplied. Since eighty per cent of our spoils of the sea go abroad
in normal times, the home supplies can be maintained by the reduced
fleet. The rest, over three thousand, steamers and rare sea-boats all,
are in national employ, often with their crews complete and handled
by the skippers who know them, proud warrant officers now in His
Majesty's fleet, and working for the most part in groups commanded by
some Lieutenant of the Royal Naval Reserve, a Commodore, in his way,
with a squadron admirals might envy. Many of the fisher folk belonged
to the Reserve and joined the fighting fleets, and practically all of
military age are long since involved in the sea affair. Two things
belong to the story--these men, whether of Grimsby or Hull, Cardiff or
Leith, or any other of the great centres, were volunteers, and assess
their motives for what you will, it was not the Government wage that
brought them. Their fellows, old men, still on the fishing grounds, do
a thriving business compared with that for which the Government pays
its few shillings a day. It is well that the country should know that
the work for which no gold can pay was not undertaken for gold, and
that they have held on as mine-sweepers when as fishermen they would
have lain snugly in harbour. "If there have been frozen feet in the
trenches there have been frozen fingers on the sea," says one. "Fifteen
hours of drenching and buffeting were our portion that day. The vessel
with the pull of the tackle and the drive of the engines keeping her
like a half tide rock, never clear of sweeping seas. Thud, slap, crash
and swish as they came over our bows and swirled along the deck, never
ceasing." They were needed, every man of them. For it happened that in
this most civilised warfare machines were employed with which, search
the world round for them, no other men could effectively deal. But for
their never resting labours the seas about these islands would have
been as impassable for ships as a tropical forest for a motor car. Let
us open our eyes and acknowledge the grandiosity of the German mind,
the spaciousness of its schemes. It is not characteristic of Germany to
do things by halves and the simple may well be amazed at the grandeur
of her mine-laying campaign.
No country can teach Germany anything on this subject. She is sole
mistress of the black art. Before the outbreak of war she had put her
mind to it and possessed vessels fitted to carry 500 mines, fitted with
special and ingenious mechanisms for lowering and floating them. When
her surface ships were driven from the seas her resources were not
exhausted, and a fleet of mine-laying submarines continues the business
with magnificent industry. No one will ever write a song on "The
Mariners of Germany," for the German is not a sailor. Nor has he ever
understood the code of honour which prevails upon the sea. But as an
engineer he has perhaps few equals, and in so far as engineering skill
applied to ships can go you will do well to reckon with him. As for his
mines themselves, they are of many patterns, strange sea-beasts with
"all manner of horns and of bumps." "There are some kinds," says the
author of "In the Northern Mists," "that have horns--like a dilemma;
and any logician will tell you that a dilemma is a very dangerous thing
for the inexperienced to handle. It is better not to break the horns
of the ungodly in this case, for when the horns are broken the mine
explodes. Some are arranged to come up to the surface long after they
are hidden in the depths, and at unexpected times, like regrettable
incidents from a hectic past. Others are constructed with fiendish
ingenuity to wait after touching a ship until they have felt at its
most vulnerable part before exploding. Some are made to float about at
random, as a malevolent wit flings about his spiteful jests, caring
not whom he wounds. And others, more dangerous still, drift when they
were meant to remain anchored; and then, when they are cast upon the
German coasts, our enemy is ever ready to describe them as _English_
mines,--never German, mark you. But it is a rascally people, that
cares nothing for the difference between _meum_ and _tuum_. The task
of sweeping for all these different brands of tinned doom is almost as
great as that of the old lady in the nursery rhyme, whose job it was to
sweep the cobwebs out of the sky. The labour of Sisyphus was child's
play compared to it."
Conceived in the magnificent style, elaborated with curious subtlety,
representing meticulous and anxious thought the purpose was no less
than to convert the waters frequented by Allied shipping into a broad
field of death. The magnitude of the conception fascinates one. Had it
been understood, as it has not been understood, the timid might have
had less sleep o'nights; but they slept untroubled, and none save those
whose grave charge it was to counter the campaign can judge or form any
estimate of its far-reaching and devilish audacity.