THE RAIDER
EVERYONE familiar with English history knows that it was a severe gale
which destroyed the scattered and defeated units of the Spanish Armada
in 1588, and that, in more modern times, it was the coming of darkness
which prevented the British Grand Fleet from turning the victory of
Jutland into a decisive rout. Such historical examples of the effect of
the weather, and even ordinary climatic changes, on the course of naval
operations could be multiplied almost indefinitely. Not only are the
movements of the barometer important factors to be considered in the
major operations of naval war but also in minor sea fights.
Comparatively few people are, however, aware that one of the largest and
most destructive of German mine-fields was laid off the British coast
during the Great War by a surface ship which escaped detection through
darkness and storm.
* * * * *
The barometer had fallen rapidly, and clouds rolled up from the
north-west in ragged grey banks which scudded ominously over a cold
steely blue sky. For some days the sea had been moderately calm, but it
was mid-winter and quiescence of the elements could not be expected to
last. Slowly the face of the Atlantic grew lined with white. It began
with a moaning wind which soon developed into a stiff gale, accompanied
by heavy storms of sleet and snow.
One of his Majesty's ships coming up the west coast of Ireland found
herself heading into the teeth of the gale. As the afternoon wore on the
wind increased in violence and the ship rolled and plunged heavily,
smothering herself in clouds of flying spume. The driving sleet made it
difficult to see more than a cable's length in any direction, and when
dusk closed over the storm-swept ocean the ship was headed for a
sheltered stretch of water close inshore.
Every stay and shroud whistled its own tune as the gale roared past.
Foam-crested waves hurled themselves in a white fury against the
plunging, dripping sides, piling up on the port bow and racing aft in
cataracts of water which threatened instant death to any luckless sailor
caught in their embrace. The lashings on the movable furniture of the
decks, although of stout rope, were snapped like spun-yarn, and
much-prized, newly painted ventilators, boat-covers, fenders, deck-rails
and other necessary adornments were swept overboard by the ugly rushes
of green sea. The iron superstructure and bridge-supports resounded to
the heavy blows of the water, and the ship trembled as she rose after
each ghastly plunge.
The blasts of wind which struck the vessel with increasing violence had
swept unimpeded over 5000 miles of ocean and carried in their breath
the edge of the Arctic frost. The sleet felt warm compared with it, and
the flying spray lost its sting.
The forty-eight sea miles lying between the ship and the sheltered
strait seemed endless leagues, for the speed had to be considerably
reduced to avoid serious damage from Neptune's guns. The minutes of
twilight grew rapidly less, and with the coming of darkness a new danger
threatened. The ship was approaching a rock-strewn coast with no
friendly lights to guide her, and every now and then lofty masses of
black stone rose up, dimly, from their beds of foam. It was an anxious
half-hour, and ears were strained for the warning thunder from
surf-beaten rocks which sounded at intervals even above the roar of the
gale.
Fortunately the entrance to the sheltered waterway was broad, and almost
before it could be realised the sea grew calm. Although the wind still
shrieked and moaned, the waves rose barely three feet high. Great
cliffs, invisible in the darkness and driving sleet, protected the
strait, and as the vessel picked her way to a safe anchorage closer
under the lee of the land the wind lost its giant strength and the
howling receded into the upper air.
Throughout the night the comparatively small warship rode safely at
anchor, innocent of what was taking place out in the blackness and the
storm. When morning broke the gale had lost some of its force, and
streams of pale watery sunlight shone between the low-flying clouds on
to a boisterous sea.
. . . . . . . .
Running before the wind and sea the German raider _Frederick_, carefully
disguised and loaded with several hundred mines, approached the British
coast. The gale was increasing in force as darkness closed down, and
heavy showers of sleet shielded her from the view of any passing craft.
The weather was ideal for her dark purpose, which was to lay a
mine-field over a stretch of sea where it was thought the Anglo-American
trade routes converged.
For the first few days out from Wilhelmshaven the weather had been misty
with heavy snowfalls, conditions enabling the mine-layer (and afterwards
raider) to run the blockade and elude the network of patrols, not,
however, without some very close shaves. On one occasion a large
auxiliary cruiser passed in a snow squall, and during subsequent
movements the raider found herself in the midst of a British fishing
fleet, but passed unrecognised in the darkness. And now that she was
approaching the British coast, and the scene of actual operations, the
barometer again obliged by falling rapidly.
It was a wild night and very dark when the first mine splashed
overboard. A snowstorm set in, and as the work proceeded heavy seas
broke over the vessel, smothering her with spray, but she was
comparatively a large ship, built for ocean trade. Although the darkness
and the snow were conditions favourable to the laying of mines in
secret, and without their aid the danger of discovery would have been
great, the rising gale and the heavy seas rendered the work both
difficult and dangerous, notwithstanding that these deadly weapons were
so arranged as to go automatically overboard.
Before the last of her cargo had been consigned to the deep it was
blowing great guns, and one sea after another was breaking over the
ship. Although sheltered waters lay less than fifty miles distant, to
proceed there would mean certain discovery and destruction, so all
through that wild night, and for many hours afterwards, the raider
sought by every means in her power to battle seawards, away from the
coast and danger, heading into the teeth of the gale and out on to the
broad bosom of the North Atlantic, all unknowing that but for the
severity of the storm she must have been observed, probably in the very
act of laying the mine-field, by the small warship riding out the
north-wester in the more sheltered waters close inshore.
* * * * *
It is interesting to note that it was on this mine-field a few days
later that one of the largest transatlantic liners was sunk.