THE BATTLE OF HELIGOLAND BIGHT.
In the first few days of the war there were rumours that a big naval
battle had been fought in the North Sea, and that the bulk of the German
fleet had been sent to the bottom. The wish was father to the thought.
Most British people expected that there would be big sea fights, and
they had no doubt of the result. We already know that the Germans had no
intention of coming out in force to meet Sir John Jellicoe's ships.
Their policy was to stick close to their own coasts, and try to wear us
down by mines and torpedo attacks. As day after day went by and there
was no startling news, impatient people began to ask, "What is the Navy
doing?"
The Navy, though it had vanished into the unknown, was very busy, and
was doing its work wonderfully well. Our light cruisers, destroyers, and
submarines were continually watching the movements of the enemy. They
are, as you know, the "eyes and ears" of the Fleet, and it was their
business to inform Sir John Jellicoe the moment that enemy ships
attempted to leave their harbours, so that he might bring them to
action. Further, our warships had to prevent commerce raiders from
slipping out and creeping into the ocean between Norway and the Orkneys
in order to prey on the trade routes. Many of our warships were busy
night and day examining neutral ships, to see that they did not smuggle
what we call contraband of war[90] into Germany, while others acted as
convoys to troopships and supply ships, or as pilots to friendly traders
passing through the mine-fields. Fleets of trawlers, as you know, were
engaged in sweeping up mines. The Navy, you observe, was fully occupied
in the North Sea, "bottling up" the German fleet, and preventing war
supplies from reaching the German ports; while, out on the ocean, our
cruisers were policing the trade routes, capturing the enemy's merchant
ships, and chasing his commerce destroyers. The best proof that the Navy
was doing its work in the best possible way was the absolute
helplessness of the Germans to impede our overseas trade, or to
interfere with the movements of our troops in all parts of the world.
[Illustration: A British Destroyer in action.]
Though there was no chance of a Trafalgar in the North Sea, there was an
engagement in the month of August 1914 worthy of the name of a battle. I
have kept the story of this sea fight for the present chapter. Three
hours after we declared war two British submarines, E6 and E8, were on
their way to the Bight of Heligoland on a scouting mission, and from
that time onward a constant watch was maintained on the doings of the
enemy's fleet in his own waters. Our submarines pushed right into the
mouth of the Elbe, discovered the numbers and movements of the enemy's
patrols, examined his anchorages, and picked up much useful information.
Of course the Germans did not allow them to do this work in peace. They
were constantly attacked by gun fire and torpedoes, and hunted by
destroyers.
The submarines discovered that every night a flotilla of German light
warships and destroyers was in the habit of coming out from Heligoland,
or from one of the ports behind it, and cruising for some hours in the
North Sea. As soon as Sir John Jellicoe heard the news, he made plans
for a great "round up" of this night-cruising flotilla. His object was
"to cut off the German light craft from home, and engage them at leisure
in the open sea."
The command of this expedition was given to Rear-Admiral Sir David
Beatty, one of the youngest admirals in our Navy. He was born in County
Wexford in 1871, and is thus an Irishman, like Lord Kitchener. He
entered the Navy in his thirteenth year. His mettle was first proved in
an expedition that was sent to reconquer the Sudan in 1898. In command
of the gunboat flotilla on the Upper Nile, he did such brilliant work
that he was at once marked out for promotion. Two years later, at the
early age of twenty-nine, he became a captain. In the same year he took
part in the fighting against the Chinese Boxers, and at thirty-nine was
promoted rear-admiral. For two years he was naval secretary to the First
Lord of the Admiralty, and on the outbreak of war was placed in command
of the First Battle Cruiser Squadron. Never before in the history of our
Navy has so young a man held so high a rank.
[Illustration: Rear-Admiral Sir David Beatty.
_Photo, Central News._]
"Look well at this man as he paces backward and forward across the airy
platform out among the smoke and rigging and sea wind." He is a little
man, but very well proportioned and remarkably full of vigour. "You feel
that energy has been poured into him at enormous pressure, that it is
working and boiling within him, and that some one is sitting on the
safety-valve." His face is heavily lined, but his features are clear
cut, and his gray eyes are quick and searching, like those of a bird.
"There is, indeed, something birdlike about the whole man--in his
quickness, his neatness, his smooth plumage, his effortless exercise of
strength, and appearance of happiness and light-heartedness. His voice
is deep and resonant--strangely deep to issue from so small and slim a
body; and as he snaps out an order to his flag-lieutenant--'G16'--and
as, on the word, the signal flags run up to the yardarm, and the white
bone[91] that each ship carries in her teeth spreads wider and bigger as
the speed of the squadron is increased to sixteen knots, you realize a
little what an admiral's word stands for, and what powers are entrusted
to him."
[Illustration: The Battle Cruiser Lion.
_Photo, Symonds and Co._]
Sir David Beatty's flagship was the battle cruiser _Lion_. You will hear
much about battle cruisers in the following pages, so let me now tell
you how a battle cruiser differs from a battleship. There are two
distinct types of modern warships of the largest size--namely, the
battleship and the battle cruiser. The battleship, sometimes called a
Dreadnought or super-Dreadnought, after the name of the first of the
type, has thicker armour and less speed than the battle cruiser; that is
practically all the difference between them. You may call the battle
cruiser a cross between the battleship and the cruiser; she has the big
guns of the former and the speed of the latter. She gains this speed by
having a less weight of armour, and, as a rule, a smaller number of
guns.
The most powerful weapon used in our Navy is the 15-inch gun, with which
the latest of our battleships, the _Queen Elizabeth_ (launched 1915), is
armed. This gun, which weighs ninety tons, throws a shot weighing
five-sixths of a ton at a velocity of more than a mile a second for a
range of 10,000 yards, or roughly six miles. Of course the full range of
the gun is much more than this. It can make good practice at 20,000
yards, or roughly 11 miles; at six miles the gun can be laid so as to
hit the target practically every time. The 13.5-inch gun, with which the
battle cruisers are mainly armed, is only a little less powerful than
the 15-inch gun. It throws a projectile of 1,400 lbs. weight, and can be
discharged twice a minute.
You will see in what ways a modern super-Dreadnought battleship differs
from a battle cruiser if you examine the following figures
_Queen Elizabeth_ (super-Dreadnought).--Length, 620 feet; tonnage,
27,500; horse-power, 28,000; speed per hour, 25 knots;[92] armour, belt
of 13½ inch thickness; armament, eight 15-inch guns and sixteen 6-inch
guns.
_Lion_ (battle cruiser).--Length, 660 feet; tonnage, 26,350;
horse-power, 70,000; speed per hour, 31 knots; armour, belt of 9¾ inch
thickness; armament, eight 13.5-inch guns and sixteen 4-inch guns.
The _Lion_, _Tiger_, _Queen Mary_, and _Princess Royal_ are the four
most powerful battle cruisers in existence.
Cruisers, of which we possessed 121 when war broke out, are the fighting
scouts of the Fleet. What are called armoured cruisers, such as the
unfortunate _Cressy_, _Aboukir_, and _Hogue_, are protected by belts of
armour plate, varying from 6 inches to 8 inches in thickness. Protected
cruisers have decks of armour plate instead of belts. The most modern
cruisers, which are known as light armoured cruisers, have been
described as "destroyers of destroyers." The light cruiser _Arethusa_,
for example, has a belt of armour plating from 3 to 3½ inches thick. She
is 410 feet long, displaces 3,600 tons, and has turbine engines that
give her a speed of thirty knots. Like all the most modern warships, she
consumes oil in place of coal. She mounts two 6-inch, six 4-inch, and
four machine guns, with four torpedo tubes.
Next in importance to the cruisers come the destroyers, of which we
possessed 227 at the beginning of the war. These vessels may be said to
correspond with the armoured motor car used by the Army. They are all
built for speed, and most of them can steam over thirty miles an hour.
The _Swift_, the largest destroyer in our Navy, has actually done over
forty-four miles an hour; the _Tartar_, however, carries off the record,
with a speed of nearly forty-six miles an hour. The _Swift_ displaces
2,170 tons, and is almost as big as the smallest of the light cruisers.
Destroyers of the "L" class displace 965 tons, have a speed of about
thirty-three miles an hour, and carry three 4-inch guns.
Life on board a destroyer is very strenuous. Destroyers act as policemen
of the seas, and they must go on their beat whatever the weather may be.
If you have not seen one of these small craft riding through a gale, you
can have no idea of the way in which wind and waves play pitch-and-toss
with them in foul weather. Officers and men alike must wear heavy
sea-boots and oilskins, for they are often up to their knees in water,
and drenched with the spray that breaks freely over the decks. As a
destroyer usually goes through the waves rather than over them, she is
built with a raised fore part, from which in rough weather the water
streams away like a little Niagara. In bad weather everything must be
tightly battened down, and this means that while the deck hands are
swept by cold, wind-driven sheets of water, the men in the engine rooms
have to work in a very hot and stifling atmosphere. A destroyer always
travels at high speed on patrol work, and she dances about on a zigzag
course in order to avoid the deadly foe lurking beneath the surface.
Trying though the life on a destroyer is, many men prefer it to service
on a big ship. There is extra pay, which Jack calls "hard-lying money,"
and there is more freedom in various ways.
The remaining class of warships consists of submarines. I described
these vessels in Chapter XVII. of Volume I.
* * * * *
I must now return to the story of how the enemy was rounded up in
Heligoland Bight.[93] At midnight on 26th August a squadron of
submarines left Harwich accompanied by two destroyers, which escorted
them to positions near the enemy's coast, and began scouting diligently
for the under-water craft of the enemy. At five o'clock next evening
(27th August) the First and Third Destroyer Flotillas steamed out of the
harbour. Earlier in the day the Battle Cruiser Squadron, the First Light
Cruiser Squadron, and the Seventh Cruiser Squadron had put to sea. All
were under orders to meet at a certain position early on the morning of
28th August. I think you can imagine the feelings of our men as the
ships crept forward, with no lights showing, through the night. They
were about to penetrate the enemy's waters and fall upon him unawares.
[Illustration: Position at 7 a.m.
Battle of the Bight of Heligoland (Aug. 28).]
The morning of the 28th broke calm and windless. There was a thick haze
over the waters, and the keenest eyes in the fleet could not pierce the
mist for more than three miles around. Just before 7 a.m. the gaunt
island of Heligoland, with its forts, painted lodging-houses, and
crumbling sea cliffs, loomed out of the fog. This diagram will show you
the position of our various squadrons at this time. The submarines, you
will observe, were close to Heligoland; but they made no attempt to
conceal themselves, as the sea was like a mill-pond, and their
periscopes were plainly visible. Approaching rapidly from the north-west
were Commodore Tyrwhitt's two destroyer flotillas, led by the _Arethusa_
and the _Fearless_. The _Arethusa_, which I have already described, was
a new ship with an old and honoured name. She had just left the
builder's yard, and was now about to undergo her baptism of fire.
Perhaps you have heard or read the famous old song "The Arethusa;" it
tells how a British man-of-war in June 1778 was attacked by four French
ships, and how she gallantly drove them off after a fight which lasted
two hours.
"The fight was off the Frenchman's land;
We forced them back upon the strand,
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant _Arethusa_."
The new _Arethusa_ was now about to prove herself worthy of her ancient
renown.
Behind the destroyers, and a little to the south-west of them, was the
Seventh Cruiser Squadron. To the north-east of the destroyers lay the
First Light Cruiser Squadron, and Sir David Beatty's Battle Cruiser
Squadron, consisting of the _Lion_, _Queen Mary_, _New Zealand_, and
_Invincible_.
The submarines near Heligoland were the decoy ducks. They were probably
first sighted by a German seaplane, and shortly afterwards a number of
German destroyers, two cruisers, and some submarines came out from
behind the island to attack them. When our submarines saw them they and
their attendant destroyers fled westward, and the German destroyers
followed them, and thus were drawn away from the island into the open
sea. Soon, however, they sighted the British flotillas bearing down on
them from the north-east. Then they turned tail and tried to make for
home; but our destroyers and the two cruisers altered their course to
port, so as to cut them off. For about half an hour the _Arethusa_ and
the destroyers were engaged with the German destroyers; but at 7.57 a.m.
two enemy cruisers, one with four funnels and the other with two,
appeared, and the nearest of them, the one with two funnels, was
engaged. She was the _Ariadne_, and the other was probably the
_Strassburg_. Both of them attacked the _Arethusa_, and for about a
quarter of an hour she received the heavy fire of both ships. Then the
_Strassburg_ turned her attention to the _Fearless_, and left the
_Ariadne_ to cope with the _Arethusa_.
During the action the _Arethusa_ was hit many times, and was much
damaged. All her guns were out of action except one 6-inch gun, with
which she replied to the enemy's fire. About 8.15 one of her shells
wrecked the forebridge of the _Ariadne_, whereupon she turned tail and
made for Heligoland. Meanwhile the _Fearless_ had driven off the
_Strassburg_, and the destroyers had sunk the German commodore's
destroyer, and had damaged some of the others. With that humanity which
has always distinguished British seamen, the destroyers lowered their
boats and attempted to save the lives of the German sailors struggling
in the water. While engaged in this work of mercy a German cruiser fired
on them, and two of the boats could not be picked up. Later on, when
these open boats were twenty-five miles from the nearest land, and that
land the enemy's fortress, with nothing but fog and foes around them,
they were wondrously saved. "Suddenly," writes an officer, "a swirl
alongside, and up, if you please, pops His Britannic Majesty's submarine
E4, opens his conning tower, takes them all on board, shuts up again,
dives, and brings them home 250 miles! Is that not magnificent? No novel
would dare to face the critics with an episode like that in it, except,
perhaps, Jules Verne; and all true."
All the British ships were now ordered to turn to the westward and
reduce speed to twenty knots. The _Arethusa_ was badly in need of
repair. A water tank had been hit; all the guns but one were for the
time being out of action, and a fierce fire broke out which was only got
under with difficulty. She soon repaired herself, however; got nearly
all of her guns into working order; and brought ammunition on deck,
ready for the next bout.
The bulk of our fleet had kept out of sight, and the Germans believed
that they had only submarines, destroyers, and two cruisers to fight.
Here was a glorious chance to wipe out the two British cruisers. About
ten o'clock two of our destroyers reported that they were being chased
by three cruisers of the enemy--the _Mainz_, the _Köln_, and a heavier
vessel, probably the _Strassburg_. The _Arethusa_, with the _Fearless_
and the First Flotilla, at once made for the three German cruisers, and
about eleven o'clock sighted the _Strassburg_, if that was her name. She
opened a heavy fire at once, and the poor, battered _Arethusa_ was again
in peril. Thanks to a vigorous attack by the _Fearless_ and the
destroyers, the _Strassburg_ drew off and disappeared in the haze. Ten
minutes later she appeared on the starboard quarter, and again attacked
the _Arethusa_; but her shots fell short. No such mistake was made by
the British gunners; both the _Arethusa_ and the _Fearless_ hit the
German ship repeatedly, and so badly damaged her that she finally drew
out of the fight and ran for home.
Four minutes later the _Mainz_ appeared, and was at once set upon by our
cruisers and destroyers. So severely was she handled that in less than
twenty-five minutes her engines had stopped, flames were leaping up from
her decks, and she was sinking.
[Illustration: The Sinking of the Mainz.]
When the news that several enemy ships had joined battle reached Sir
David Beatty, he saw at once that the situation was critical. He had
already sent off the Light Cruiser Squadron to help the destroyers; now
he decided to take the Battle Cruiser Squadron into action. At 11.30 his
ships turned their heads east-south-east, and rapidly worked up to full
speed. It was a risky business to take his cruisers through a
mine-strewn sea infested by submarines, but in warfare risks must be
taken if battles are to be won. He had no fear of submarines, however,
as he was travelling very quickly, and the sea was so calm that
periscopes could be easily seen. He considered that his force was quite
powerful enough to deal with any enemy ships that might come out to meet
him, except a battle squadron. If he made a dash into the fight, the
whole business would probably be over before a battle squadron of the
enemy had time to arrive on the scene.
Just as the _Mainz_ was seen to be sinking, the Light Cruiser Squadron
arrived, and their shells rained down upon the devoted ship. She was
completely riddled by shot, and her end had come. An officer who saw her
sinking wrote:--
"The _Mainz_ was absolutely gallant. The last I saw of her, absolutely
wrecked alow and aloft, her whole midships blazing and fuming. She had
one gun forward and one aft, still spitting forth fury and defiance,
like a wild cat mad with wounds."
While the _Mainz_ was sinking, the _Köln_ appeared on the starboard,
and broadsides were discharged at long range. At this moment the British
battle cruisers, with the white ensign streaming from their bows, were
seen looming through the mist. They had arrived just at the right
moment, and the worn and wearied men of the _Arethusa_, black with the
grime of gun-fire, knew that victory was at hand. Commodore Tyrwhitt, of
the _Arethusa_, pointed out the _Köln_ to Sir David Beatty, and his
13.5-inch guns got to work. At 10,000 yards he hit her again and again,
and she turned to flee, with the flames streaming out from her like
blood-red pennons.
The _Ariadne_ now hove in sight, coming from the southward. Two salvos
from the terrible 13.5-inch guns were enough for her; she disappeared in
the mist, burning furiously and in a sinking condition. Then the battle
cruisers circled north again to finish off the _Köln_. Two salvos were
fired, and she sank like a stone with all on board.
At 1.40 the battle was over. The battle cruisers turned to the
northward, and the _Queen Mary_ for the second time that day was
attacked by a submarine. Again she avoided a deadly torpedo by a quick
turn of the helm. The great gray monsters covered the retirement of the
destroyers, and by 6 p.m. all were making for port. Before midnight the
whole British force was safely back in its own waters.
The enemy had lost two new cruisers--the _Mainz_ and the _Köln_--and an
older vessel, the _Ariadne_. The vessel which I have called the
_Strassburg_ was seriously damaged; one destroyer was sunk, and at least
seven others suffered greatly. Some seven hundred Germans perished, and
about three hundred were taken prisoners, amongst them the son of
Admiral von Tirpitz, the chief of the German navy.
Our casualties were thirty-two killed and fifty-two wounded, and we did
not lose a single ship. The _Arethusa_ was badly damaged, it is true,
but she was ready for sea a week later. Every British ship that took
part in the battle was entitled to paint upon her honour-board in
letters of gold the words, "Heligoland, August 28, 1914." As a tribute
to the gallant part which the _Arethusa_ had played in the fight, the
Admiralty ordered the famous old song to be engraved on a brass plate
and set up on the ship. The first verse runs as follows:--
"Come, all ye sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould,
While English glory I unfold.
Huzza for the _Arethusa_!
Her men are staunch
To their favourite launch.
And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike we'll all expire
On board of the _Arethusa_."
* * * * *
Before we leave the story of the Battle of Heligoland Bight let me try
to describe the experiences of the men behind the big guns. "Gun crews,
stand to your stations!" comes the terse order. Instantly every man
drops his job, whatever it may be, and the various squads fall in and
march off to their barbettes or casemates, straining their eyes as they
go to catch a sight of the enemy. All the wooden fittings which are
likely to catch fire, or form what sailors call "shell traps," have been
thrown overboard, the stanchions and the davits and the chains around
the decks have been unshipped, and the vessel is now a mere skeleton of
its former self. Everything that might get loose and "take charge" has
been securely lashed. The guns and torpedoes have been made ready; the
ammunition has been carefully examined and arranged, so that it can be
quickly hoisted to the guns; and the engines have been overhauled. Hose
pipes have been run along the decks, and everything likely to take fire
has been plentifully soused with sea-water.
Probably you know that each pair of big guns is mounted on a revolving
platform within what is called a turret--that is, a chamber of thick
armour-plate which revolves with the guns. Beneath this turret is a
working chamber, some nine or ten feet in height, and from it a thick
steel tube descends through the decks to the magazines below. Inside
this tube, which revolves with the gun platform, are "lifts," which
hoist the shells up to the barbette.
The crews enter the barbettes by means of massive steel doors, which are
firmly closed behind them. When the doors are closed, it is impossible
for them to know what is going on in other parts of the ship, except for
the little that they can observe through the sighting-hood of the guns.
The steel chamber in which they are stationed is lighted by electricity,
and the guns, the platform, and the hoists are worked by water power.
The crew set the machinery working, and bring up a supply of shells,
one of which is placed in the yawning breech of each great gun.
Presently a telephone bell rings, and a voice is heard asking "if it
takes a week for the barbette to get ready for action." It is the
gunnery lieutenant, who is talking "sarcastic." He is in what is called
the "fire-control station," which is a steel chamber high on the top of
a tripod mast. In this chamber are the range-finders and all the other
apparatus necessary for directing the fire of every big gun on the ship.
Around the steel walls are telephones, speaking-tubes, and electric
buttons. By means of very wonderful devices the officer in the
"fire-control station" ranges and sights every gun in the ship. The men
in the turrets have merely to obey his instructions, and fire the guns
when he gives the word.
"Prepare to open fire at twenty thousand yards," snaps the voice at the
telephone. The machinery clangs, and the guns raise their noses high in
the air. "Revolve to ten degrees on your port bow," comes the next
order; and, as though by magic, the whole turret swings itself round to
the required position. Then comes a pause, which the men declare is more
trying to the nerves than anything that happens during the actual
fighting. Little or nothing can be seen from the barbette; from the
"fire-control station" the target is a mere speck on the horizon about
eleven miles away.
Presently the telephone rings again. "Let go with No. 1 gun" is the
welcome order. The men cheer and fling themselves face down on the
floor, and push home the cotton wool with which they have previously
plugged their ears, to prevent the risk of deafness. The captain of the
gun pulls a lanyard; there is a "kick" that makes the barbette reel,
then a deafening report, as a shell weighing nearly a thousand pounds
speeds over the waters on its deadly mission.
Instantly the men spring up, the breech is thrown open, a jet of water
is sent along the barrel, and another shell is thrown in. Meanwhile the
officer in command of the barbette calls out, "Stand by for No. 2 gun."
When No. 2 gun has been fired the telephone bell rings, and the voice
from above is heard to say, "Both miles wide; try to hit something next
time." "We are here to fire the gun, not to range it," mutters the
captain of the turret as he makes a few hasty calculations and some
adjustments. "Both guns at once, dead line ahead," comes the next
order. Round spins the barbette again on its axis, and then a terrific
jerk and an awful roar as the two weapons go off together. At once every
eye is turned to the indicator which shows the result of the shots. "One
well home, the other a trifle short." The gunners caper about in huge
delight.
By this time the whole of the big guns of the ships are barking away,
all under the careful eye of the little group of officers perched up
aloft. "Salvo firing[94] on signal" is now the order, and the range,
elevation, and direction of the guns are given. Once more the silence is
tense. Suddenly the indicating needle of every big gun on the ship
begins to move in unison. FIRE! Then there is a mighty roar, and the
ship shudders and pauses on its onward course. "Nasty one for somebody,"
says a bluejacket as he wipes the perspiration from his face and bare
chest. "Hope they liked it," chimes in another as the guns are loaded
again.
Now there is a loud report, followed by a crash of bent and battered
metal not far off. "Pretty near one that," says a gunner. "Wonder if it
has done any damage." There is no time for further inquiry; damage has
been done. A large shell from the enemy has hit another barbette, and
has exploded. The lieutenant in charge has been glancing through the
sighting-hood; he drops like a log, and two other men have fallen beside
him. A few bolt-heads have been crisply shorn off by the immense jerk of
the impact, and they have fled across the steel chamber like rifle
bullets; one poor fellow is killed, and a second has a leg broken. It is
the price of Admiralty, and without pause a midshipman takes the
lieutenant's place and "carries on."
Still the firing continues, and the air in the turret by this time is
almost stifling. The electric fans have failed owing to some damage
below. Presently, however, comes the welcome order, "Enemy's ship out of
action. Out of the barbette, and muster on deck." A loud roar of
cheering goes up; the great doors are pushed back, and the men take up
their stations and watch the last throes of the enemy's ship as it
lurches and sinks beneath the waves. Nothing but the work of rescue now
remains. All undamaged boats are manned and hoisted out, and away they
go on their errand of mercy. The battle is over and won.
[Footnote 90: Goods such as arms, ammunition, explosives, and other
articles for use in war. If a neutral tries to send such goods to a
state which is at war, they may be seized by the enemy of that state.
Nations at war give notice of what kinds of goods they will not allow
their enemy to receive. These goods are known as contraband of war.]
[Footnote 91: The foam at the cutwater of the ship.]
[Footnote 92: One knot = 1-1/7 miles.]
[Footnote 93: Channel about 18 miles wide, some 7 miles north-east of
Heligoland.]
[Footnote 94: All the big guns that can be brought to bear are fired
together.]