 CHAPTER V. A TORPITO BOAT ATTACK Bowery, said Blake to me a few days later, that press-gang business has regularly fixed you up. You need the blue pill of excitement, as old Dr. Donnarola used to put it, so I have secured a nice little job for you. "'What's in the wind now, sir?' I inquired. "'I welcome anything to vary the monotony of hanging about idle in this infernal hole.' "'Well, you'll get it tonight in pleady anyway,' he replied, as I volunteered to lead a torpedo boat attack, which ought to give us something to think about for a long while to come. His words were prophetic enough, though in a way we little thought of them. The projected attack was on Cherbourg. Two or three attacks had been made on this place, either from Portland or Alderney, but each had been a disastrous failure, and this in which we were about to take part was rather of the nature of a forlorn hope. It was designed more with a view to harassing the enemy than with any more definite and serious object, though of course we were not told that at the time. There was the usual call for volunteers, and six boats were selected for the enterprise. The three eighties that the Rato acted as division boat to, a couple of seventies and number sixty-five, which Blake took command of. This boat was the only survivor of the sea flotilla, and the lieutenant who commanded her having been killed, and the sub-Cenna shore wounded, I took the latter's place. "'I don't mean to be destroyed by catchers, if I can help it,' said Blake when we had all gathered in the stuffy little cabin to settle the plan of campaign. "'All torpedoes, except those in the eighties, are to be set for four-foot depth only, so you'll be able to fire at catchers without sending your torpedoes under them. And don't fire till you're within a cable's length at the outside. Better not fire at all than fire from too far away and miss. One torpedo got home is worth a dozen wasted in the water, you know, so just all of you remember it. I shall be round shortly to see that everything is all right. There must be no bungling over tonight's business.' An hour or so later Blake went round the boats, testing and inspecting everything. Then our preparations being complete, we steamed out through the hole in the wall and slowly along in shore. "'Blenham will accompany you. No other British cruisers out!' came a semaphore as we left, and presently in the growing dusk we made out the great cruiser coming up, keeping some two miles a stern and about the same distance to starboard of us. Number sixty-five leading, we kept along for some hours in a single column of line ahead, going a good sixteen knots and leaving the cruiser farther and farther a stern. The previous bad weather had abated, and the water was still and glassy, a dead black sheet saved for the phosphorescent gleams that licked our bow and shot across the little streaky waves we left in our wake. It was a dreamy, peaceful night, and strong contrast to the errand of death on which we were speeding, the sort of night that one involuntarily associates with peace and love, the sort of night that makes those at sea think gently of loved ones in the far away. So thought I, as I reviewed in my mind a little romance of my own, wondering whether someone would, on my account, scan the morrow's papers with quickened pulse and spated breath, reading of how we had distinguished ourselves, or perchance dropping a tear if my name were in the list of those who would come back never more. Then insensibly my mind turned to Blake and his love affair, into which I had had such strange involuntary insights, and being in a curious mood I began to vaguely query whether I should some time learn the end of it all. And even as I wondered the man himself join me where I sat on deck near the standard compass, keeping an eye on the boats astern. Our nerves were strung to a high state of tension, and I remember, as though it were yesterday, how we held our hands over our pipes, lest perchance an enemy's cruiser should sight the glow. We had sat in silence some little time, when the skipper leaned over in my direction. "'Look here, Bovary, old man,' said he. "'I mayn't come out of this job, and if I lose the number of my mess, and you don't, I'd like you to send the packet in my inside pocket to the address that's on it. And stay, you can do me another service, too.' You remember when we boarded the Valletta the other day, how I was knocked all of a heap. Miss Moncton, who as I told you was my fiancée, had been hit on the head by a bit of shell, but after they'd dressed it she seemed all right, and came on deck again when the firing ceased. She was there when the devout went down. The wound must have affected her brain in some way, however, or else that awful sight did, for she had to be taken below again quite delirious. And when her father led me to where she lay in a half-faint, and told her I had come, she roused herself, shrieking that I was a murderer, and so on. After a while she got quite hysterical, and didn't even know me. So I did the wisest thing, and came away, and didn't see her again until that unfortunate episode last night. I suppose it's fate that I should appear to her as a cold-blooded butcher. But I want you, if I go under, to try and see her, to try and explain how I am not what fate has made me seem, and you understand what it is, I feel? A fellow doesn't like to put it all into words. I promised to do as he wished, and began making some ordinary enough remarks to the effect that I hoped things would come all right, and so on. When I was interrupted by the look-out man near me, calling in a sort of stage whisper, War-ships on the starboard bow! Away to the southward, faintly discernible by night-glasses, were three vessels steaming slowly in station. Frenchmen! cried Blake, man, an armship! I had no time to look about me for the next five minutes, but I could hear the whistles signaling to our flotilla, and presently we altered station, we were going to head off the enemy and sink him as he came up. My tubes, I had the forward pair, being trained to starboard, I got a good view of the coming fight. The enemy had not seen us as yet, and moving at slow speed there was nothing to indicate our presence to them. On they came, three ships, each about four cables a stern of the other. The sternmost, larger than the rest, looked like a battleship or first-class cruiser, and her Blake singled out as our special prey. Our dispositions were quickly made. We intended to wait in two columns ahead of them till they should come up between us, unless they should spot us on open fire before, in which case our whole flotilla would attack, and trust to luck. When the ships were yet a mile or so away, they sighted the Blenheim, and made some signals in her direction, whereupon she immediately put on full speed towards them, signaling as she went. "'Cute of the Blenheim to occupy their attention,' said Blake. "'Wants to get a look in too, sir,' called out a sub from one of the eighties. "'Let's go at them now, sir!' He had hardly see-speaking when the leading cruiser burst into the flame. A torrent of shot whistled over our heads, and at the same moment number seventy-two, which was commanded by a sub named DeWarn, who was more than anxious to distinguish himself, started off at them full speed without waiting for any orders. The next ship now began to fire as well, and off we all went in their direction. But a detour was necessary, as our quarry, instead of waiting to be attacked, came slap-bang at us. We had hardly started, however, before we saw the Blenheim close to them, sending up rockets and signaling and presently they ceased to fire. "'By God, they are our own cruisers!' shouted Blake, and we made as hard as we could pelt after young DeWarn, whistling and flashing to him to come back. But it was too late. A great dimly white column shot up from the bow of the leading cruiser, followed by the sullen boom of an exploding torpedo, and then we came with inhale of DeWarn's boat, returning to see what damage she had inflicted. "'I guess this means promotion, sir!' he sang out to Blake as we passed each other. "'Promotion! You cursed young fool! You've blown up one of our own ships! Come and see what mischief you have done!' Our men came tumbling up from below, wither they had been sent to lie down under as much cover as they could find, and we got the dinghy ready to launch. It is one thing to destroy an enemy, another to see one's own countrymen struggling for life. The cruiser, she turned out to be the forte, was settling down at the bow, and we could see her crew getting out the boats in great haste. The Blenheim and other ships were soon near the spot, playing their searchlights on the wreck, while all of them were sending boats and we were in hopes of getting all the crew safe away, when suddenly and without warning the forte plunged under, carrying with her many of the ship's boats, and also number eighty-five, which had been badly damaged in the attack. DeWarn, who up to this moment had been standing by his quarter-master, staring like a dazed man at the wreck, suddenly threw up his arms and with an awful shriek plunged into the sea, and we saw him no more. Poor boy, he and many a brave sailor had been sacrificed to a signalman's blunder. Our half-trained and overworked signalman had misread that last semaphore about ships in the channel as we left Portland. The signal really made was, all ships out, in groups of three at four cables, will show greenlight before firing on torpedo boats. The amortity with a view to avoiding disasters of this sort had made elaborate arrangements similar to the above. Signalman, like everything else, could not be made in a day out of the raw material supplied to the fleet. This sort of mistake we had most of us met with in maneuvers, but then everybody considered it a good joke, but now. The senior captain, after consultations with the others, decided to go on with the attack on the French. So, after half an hour's delay, we started off again. From Portland to Cherbourg is roughly about seventy-five miles, steaming at an average of sixteen knots an hour and allowing for the delay caused by the sinking of the Forte, we expected to be off the place about two-thirty a.m. Leaving the cruisers behind for a rallying point, our five remaining boats steamed on. Some boats from Alderney, which was very closely watched by the French, were supposed to make a faint to attract the attention of the catchers guarding Cherbourg, but of this attack we neither saw nor heard anything. After an hour's steaming, Blake reckoned that we were off the place, so he reduced speed but nothing was visible. Then, all of a sudden, two black objects rapidly increasing in size appeared in the water ahead. A moment later we were bathed in the blinding glare of searchlights. We scattered to try and avoid the rays. They could not succeed in keeping all of us under observation, and our boat managed to do this. Blake was steering the boat himself, standing on deck as it was impossible to work her properly from the conning tower, and he and the warrant officer, Mr. Hacker, who had the after torpedo tubes, were the only persons on deck besides myself. In less time than it takes to right, one of the destroyers was abreast of us, and as she passed I fired the port torpedo, which was set for four feet only. A regular tempest of shot hailed round about us at the same moment, and I saw Mr. Hacker fall back from his tubes and slide through the railings into the water. The skipper I could not see, but on running aft I found him all of a heap on the deck, though still grasping the steering wheel. Taking the gunner's place I waited till we passed the other destroyer, which got her searchlight on us at that instant. I believe I discharged the torpedo. Then the whole thing collapsed, and I was left in darkness. While far astern I could make out the catcher still unhurt, with her light on number seventy-four, and that was the last scene of that boat. But another of ours must have come up and torpedoed the enemy, for she disappeared, though in the noise and racket of firing I did not notice any explosion. Blake still lay at the steering wheel, amid the shattered remnants of the after conning tower, and from the engine hatch came a cloud of scalding white steam, so that passage forward was now impossible. I sang out to the men in the bow, and after several attempts heard an answering hail. Then, going below to the wardroom, yelled through the voice tube to the engine room, but there was no response. Getting on deck again I cited one of the eighty boats steaming slowly towards us in little better plight than ourselves. Her skipper tried to get us in tow, I believe, but it would have fared ill with both of us had not one of our cruisers come up just in the nick of time, for the men forward now cried out that we were sinking. The skipper of the eighty boat, who had made one or two ineffectual efforts to come alongside, sang out to us to be ready for a boat that was coming from the cruiser, and I now remembered our poor skipper, whom I had forgotten in the perplexities of the situation. I raised him to see if he yet lived, but he lay as a dead weight in my arms, and his coat was soaked with blood. I held him thus till the end rematch his boat, which had taken off the blue jackets forward, came round to our stern, and two of her crew jumping on board us, carried the skipper into the stern sheets, while I hastily scrambled after them, finning away almost as soon as I had done so. I can just remember waking as we reached the cruiser, and seeing lanterns held over the side as our skipper was hoisted up over, but when I took the man ropes my strength failed me, and I had to be taken over the side in the same fashion as Blake. A couple of days later the Andromache put into Portsmouth, and we, that is, Blake and I, were sent to Haslar Hospital, which was full of wounded men, as also were all Miss Weston's homes. Blake had fainted from loss of blood, having been wounded in the left arm by a bullet, while a fragment of shell had hit his back. They put me and a cot alongside the skipper, for though I had received no actual wound, the torpedo tube, when the shock knocked it round, had bruised and crushed me all over, and we made a sorry pair. My mother came to see me here. Poor little mother! All her three sons had gone to serve Queen and Country, and one lay wounded at Haslar, while another slept beneath the ocean. My surviving brother was a lieutenant in the Blue Marines, and hitherto faint had spared him. I shall tell his story later. There were a great many nurses about the ward, many evidently lady volunteers, who, with gentle, sympathetic touch and soothing voice, did much to calm and allay the suffering around them. There were occasional visitors, too, and dimly I remember seeing, in my half delirium, a tall and stately woman bending over the unconscious Blake. She seemed to be always watching him, till I began to wonder whether, after all, she was ought but a creation of my fevered brain. I was one day idly staring at her thus, half envious of Blake, when seeing my gaze fixed upon them, she came towards me and spoke, You are one of Lieutenant Blake's officers, are you not? Then, she went on, as I assented, Will you do us both a favour? Never tell him what you have seen. Promise! I promised, and I kept my word. Next day Blake had recovered consciousness, but his strange visitor had disappeared altogether, and to this day I cannot be sure who she was, whether she was Miss Moncton or another, or even whether the whole scene were ought but an invalid's hallucination. End of chapter. Chapter 6 Of Blake of the Rattlesnake This is LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane Chapter 6 The Bombardment While I was getting convalescent in this little paradise, the war was working its course, but into most of the details of events in which I had no part, I do not propose to enter. Abler pens the mine have done justice to these great battles already, and this is merely a little story of the war, as it seemed to a junior officer little conversant with its main issues. It was while I lay at Haslar that news came of the great fight off Toulon, in which, after a conflict of desperate valor, both sides lay by, unable to do any more injury to each other. And of how the Russians, breaking through the Dardanelles to take the British fleet in the rear, fell a prey to the second class torpedo boats of the Vulcan, and of all the other momentous events of those three days in which nearly all the belligerent vessels disappeared from the Mediterranean, having mutually destroyed each other. Almost simultaneously came the news of the Kronstadt disaster, a disaster that sounded the first note of the downfall of the empire. My marine brother, in the Northampton, sent me a letter describing this event, which I may be pardoned for quoting here. The first part, as may be seen, was written before the catastrophe. My dear brother, he wrote, I've been a long time in replying to your last, but have been hoping to have some news to send, and hitherto things have been dull as ditch water with us. But news of all chance to cela, as the new admiral is going to bombard Kronstadt tomorrow, and God help us in this old packet. However, I won't croak, but will send you a flowing description of it when it's over. That is, if I get through, which is open to doubt, I'm afraid. We've a jolly ship's company, though most of them are old stages. Old Punchy, whom you doubtless remember, is our commander, and her regular zealot he is. He didn't expect to get his promotion, and having got it, after all, is as proud as his namesake, and spends all his time over spit and polish and having the ship painted. Odin, as we call the skipper, is bitten that way too, so between them we're about the smartest looking ship out here, though that's about as far as it goes, as our crew are a miserable set, all told. Our fellows are only passable, while there aren't twenty decent blue jackets, all the rest are raw land-lubber recruits, and I'm told that the Stokers are, if anything, worse, since Odin has managed to lick the sailor recruits into some sort of shape, though it exhausted his vocabulary to do it. We have the inevitable war correspondent on board, and as he has never been to sea before in his life, you may guess we get some fun out of him. All his previous existence seems to have been spent in the House of Commons press gallery, so we younger fellows pull his leg no end, though my conscience pricks me now and then, as he's a good sort-hip bottom and takes it all very well. Our young doctor supplies all the technical parts of his letters home, or he and the AP between them do, so you may guess the sort of stuff that goes to his paper. I don't think our young saw-bones knows the royal look from a torpedo boat, but somehow or other, correspondence without technical knowledge, always go to these fellows. I fancy he twigged at last that their information was a bit unreliable, for after a bit he tried to tap me, and that's what started the leg pulling, for upon my word I'm not exactly A1 in naval matters, though I'm pretty fair in gunnery. I hear they've got a correspondent in the royal oak who writes a couple of learned works on the navy every year, and he, when last heard of, had been trying to teach the admiral how to capture Kronstadt. Offered to take command for him, some fellows say, but his dodge was a cute one all the same. Still. I have the two after ten-inch guns, same sort as you had in the poor old Nelson, but how we're going to fight these muzzle-loading old pop guns is beyond me altogether. Still, we've got to try somehow. You'd hardly think from this yarn that we're going into action tomorrow at daybreak, but it's best to try and keep one's pecker up, and I prefer not to think of what's got to be gone through between now and this time tomorrow. Well, goodbye, old fellow, if this should chance to be my last letter. I've got to write to the maitre yet. It's already gone four bells, so lights out will be round if I don't hurry up. The other part of the letter was dated some days later. I've not been able to write before, old man, because after the bombardment, of which you'll have heard ere this, I've had too much to do helping the doctors, and so on. I believe our fleet is altogether knocked out of time. The poor old Northo is, anyway. It makes me sick to think of the fight even now. I don't think I'll ever get the taste of it out of my mouth. We got in at daybreak, and open fire at about four thousand yards on a big fort. But our guns aren't much good at that distance even, so Odin edged in nearer till we got within two thousand. It was a curious sensation laying the rear port ten inch. I did it myself to make sure of a good shot, and I think it got home, but the port being closed directly we fired. I can't say for certain. There were splashes in the water all round us, but the Russians hadn't got the range then, and it just gave us time to get cool behind the armored bulkhead. I don't know how the poor devils at midships can have felt with only a sheet of thin iron between them and the enemy, and to make matters worse, they hadn't got the wire screens which should go between the nine inch guns to localize shell fire. These were left behind at Chatham, of course. We might have been able to make some sort of shift with the torpedo nets, but they were out and down, and a good thing they were too, for we had at least three torpedoes explode in them. It seems very tame and prosy as I write this, and think of what the real affair was. It's little more exciting than our log, which says in your regular executive style, Bombarded Krumstadt, opened fire six a.m. at 4,000 yards to 2,000 yards range, received heavy fire about 6.30, had to haul out of action at 6.45, battery totally disabled and greater part of crew killed or wounded. That is all correct enough, but bald. Well, as I was saying, the shot kept on missing us and we were getting quite chirpy when there came a couple of violent explosions from the battery of midships. The whole place was filled with an infernal suffocating stink, and I just caught a glimpse through the smoke of a gun falling over and everything smashed to smithereens. We were just about to fire our starboard gun, for the ship was shifting stern on to the shore batteries, when it ran back on its stand and toppled over, crushing three men beneath it and sending the rest helter-skelter. I was upset by them, but was soon on my legs again and over to the other gun, which we eased off directly we got a sight. I looked round at the battery of midships. There was a great hole in the deck, with dead and wounded men lying all around it, and even as I looked there came a swish-swish-swish and an awful tearing sound. The ship's turning head exposed the main deck to the forts, which had now got our range with small QF and machine guns, and the poor devils of midships were going down like nine pins. Of those left alive some were rushing wildly up and down, screaming for mercy, driven clean mad, and others were jumping out of the ports into the sea. It was all over in a few seconds, but by the time the ship had got round again, with the four bulkhead against the enemy's fire, there wasn't a single man left standing at our eight unprotected guns. My God! It was an awful thing to look upon, an awful thing! There was a lull now, for a few minutes, as neither of our bow-guns were firing, and overhead the Hotchkiss guns had ceased. They began again for a minute or so, then as suddenly stopped, and nothing was to be heard save the groaning of the wounded, the roar of battle outside, an occasional thud of a shot striking the bulkhead, which made the old northo tremble from head to stern. Two or three times there came more violent shock still, and we were all thrown off our feet, while the ship lurched as though she were foundering. I suppose we must have gone on working our gun, but I can't remember anything definite till I saw the captain coming down the companion by the ship's bell. He was badly wounded, but in voice and bearing kept the same as ever. Huh, Mr. Bovary! You'll be glad to hear where to keep out of this. Why, demi, it's worse here than on deck! He spoke as though nothing very unusual had happened, and it pulled me together. I found then that we were out of range, and had been for some time. A cruiser had towed us out of danger, for the ship, being pretty well blown inside out, could neither steer nor steam. Of the 550 who made our crew in the morning, only about 130, mostly Stokers, answered to the muster role, and of these less than forty are unhurt. I am one of them, I am thankful to say. It seems Odin had the Stokers up to man the QF guns because all the blue jackets at them were killed. Darcy, my captain, is still alive, but very seriously wounded, and the skipper and commander are still on their legs. All the other executives are down. Our newspaper man, the purser, and the Padre have all lost the number of their mess, killed while trying to take a wounded man below. Our armor has been pierced in several places, but on the whole has kept shot out well, as it is dented all over where they've hit it, and rebounded or glanced off. We have lost the Royal Oak, Aurora, Monarch, and Temeraire. While the other ships are so knocked about that, had the Russian iron clads come out, they'd have sunk a lot of us. Luckily, providentially they didn't. Afraid of our torpedo boats, they let us draw off, but this licking will do us no end of harm. The Northampton is ordered home. I hope she won't sink, by the way. A fresh fleet has just met us, not before they were wanted. Their news would, however, be stale to you. I hope this coal-strike scare hasn't got any truth in it. We have had the most alarming rumors of it. Chin-chin, old chap. Your affectionate brother, Charles Bovery. P.S., have you heard that the Royal Oak was sunk by a dynamite gun? The coal-strike, to which my brother alluded, is all too well known in England. Everyone remembers this repetition on a gigantic scale of the coal-strike of 1893, how it spread all over Europe, and was started to show the brotherhood of workers. While they shot them down or made them work abroad, the British government let things be till the coal reserves were exhausted, and our fleet's well-nigh idle. Everyone too knows the panic that came about when the Admiral and the Baltic sent telegram after telegram, saying that his fleet was laid up useless in the Abbo archipelago for want of fuel, and how, when it was too late, troops were sent to end the strike and compel the men to work. Fewer people are aware how our Baltic squadron got such coal as it had. Cute Yankees sent over Colliers flying French or Russian flags. There was a nominal capture by British ships, and the coal changed hands for about its weight in gold. Blake and I were reported fit for duty on the same day. He had got his extra stripe for sinking the Davout, which was made a deal of in the papers. He got a destroyer as his new ship, and he did me the honour of fixing things at the A so that I came as his sub, for I had got that amount of promotion over the Davout business. I have omitted to state that while we were on the sick list, our poor old Rado went down with Colours flying off the French coast. A cruiser settled her hash. The Admiralty had just started that very wise plan of renaming new ships after such vessels as had gone down after rendering themselves famous in the war. Truly Blake's new ship, one of the latest destroyers, was better with her new name of Rattlesnake than under her old one of Snarler or Jellyfish, I forget now which of these names was her original one. The new Rado was 250 feet long, carried four torpedo tubes amid ships, one 12 pounder QF, and five 3 pounder QF guns, and could make about 30 knots an hour speed. Unlike the majority of the destroyers, she belonged to the Vernon instead of to the excellent fellows, and so was practically put into commission as a large independent seagoing torpedo boat. The Admiralty having soon found out that a certain number of officers acting more or less on their own fancy could do a tremendous amount of damage to the enemy. Our compliment was 50, five above the allotted number, and besides Blake and myself, we carried an acting sub who, poor beggar, was too seasick most of the time to be of much service except when there was any fighting on. He was then as a fiend incarnate. Death was a far easier foe to face than seasickness. On the whole, we did fairly well in the Rado. Her size made her a far better seaboot than the earlier havoc and boxer types, and we had things pretty much our own way, Blake having had the luck or influence to get a seasoned crew. Many of the destroyers, manned by half Ross Seaman, were as good as useless in the bad weather than prevailing, weather which kept nearly all the hostile small craft in port. We, of course, couldn't keep the sea for more than a few days on end. Still, it was a thing to get out at all. We were ordered to the Baltic with some cruisers, both to reinforce the fleet there, and to help a company and protect a large fleet of colliers, which had been filled the moment the coal strike ended. Before we left Portsmouth, however, a meeting took place on board the torpedo depot ship Vernon, which, though not very lengthy or largely attended, was destined to alter the history of the world. For more information or to volunteer, please visit leapervox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane, Chapter 7, On Convoy Duty. Well, you fellows clearly understand what it is that I advocate and what responsibility it will throw upon us. It's a foregone conclusion, I take it, that our fleet in the Baltic is bound to get licked, because the Russians, if they've got any savvy at all, will attack before the colliers reach our ships, and then, having polished us off in their own waters, the channel fleet will, without any difficulty, be demolished or shut up and harbor by them when they have combined with the French. Let us have your plan in full, Blake. You've only given a very rough outline as yet, said someone. By all means, I intend doing it myself, with or without assistance, and to back it from my private purse. Not that I think England deserves it, since, when the Admiralty wanted to send the channel fleet to combine with more CIA and dish up the French at Toulon, the whole country, fearing invasion, rose against them and prevented it, with the result that our Mediterranean fleet is now practically non-existent. You might add, too, put in Lieutenant Berkeley, look at the content's bills of the evening papers. They put what interests their public most, horse races, and the labor question. Patriotism has become minus X to the N, and the English as a nation don't care a hang for their country so long as their own dirty skins are comfortable. However, excuse the interruption, go on with your plan, Blake. Well, continued our skipper, you may remember, if your classical history, Berkeley, is equal to your algebra, that Athens lost her whole navy at Aegios Potomy, save a few ships that won Conan had the sense to save, and use later on his own hook. I propose following his program in the event of things turning out as badly as we anticipate. Directly the Russians polish off our Baltic fleet and get through the sound, I am going to bolt for the Scotch coast. Lamblash will, I think, be the best harbor, because I know that channel well. And, being on an island, we can cut the telegraph wires so that no intelligence reaches the English newspapers, and through them the enemy. There we can concentrate at leisure, mature our plans, and follow the enemy with torpedoes as soon as he has command of the English Channel and begins to invade. I've worked out most of the details, but these can be discussed later. What I want to know is, how many of you fellows will join in the Enterprise? I'm with you for one, but me down. Me too, I'd sooner go down making a fight for it than be sunk trying to bolt. Similar cries resounded through the Vernon Smoking Room, and we all cheered in our enthusiasm at the idea of a campaign carried out entirely by torpedo men. When the noise had subsided a bit, Commander Wrexham rose from the chair in which he had been lolling. I am not one for speeches and plavering, and all I want to say is this. We need a senior officer to boss the show, and I'm senior to the rest of you, but I think Blake is the better man for the job, and the idea belongs to him alone, so I propose that we elect him Commodore of the Lamb Lash Torpedo Fleet. Everyone present rose to second the proposal, and thus it came about that everything was arranged against Britain's expected collapse. Mind, said Blake as he acknowledged his unorthodox promotion, beyond all else it is necessary that this be kept quiet. It means deserting at a moment when our services would be most useful to protect any battleships that may escape the general disaster, and neither the amrotein or anyone else will be likely to sanction that. But it also means that, instead of being practically useless and destroyed piecemeal, we shall bag the best part of the hostile fleets soon afterwards. It is a grave step, but I think that we shall do our duty best by so doing. And get court-martialed for not having gone down without accomplishing anything, put in the cynical Berkeley, but I'm with you all the same. After some of the principal details had been settled the meeting broke up, and the next day the rattlesnake sailed for the Baltic, in company with three cruisers and some colliers. Expectation was rife as to whether we should encounter any hostile vessels, but we reached Sheerness, where we filled up with coal, and picked up another destroyer and some more colliers, without siding a single warship other than cruisers of our own side in the Downs. That's all very well, Blake was saying, but we haven't entered the wood yet. It isn't likely we'd come across Frenchmen in the chops of the Channel, as we'll look for them in the Serpentine. The Channel just now is an English Lake. If you want to see what's going to happen, just wait till we've left the gnor and the mouse behind us. We were dining at the Sheerness Gunnery School, where a few old-stagers, retired goodness knows how many years, and a sprinkling of convalescent combatants held solemn court. Everybody originally belonging to the place had been sent away long ago. Its present occupants, though most of them had volunteered for active service, were verily the halt, the maimed, and the blind. The senior of them all, an old warrant officer, retired as a lieutenant, was popular reported to have served under Nelson at Trafalgar, while the junior, a peer of the realm who had quitted the service when yet a midshipman, and was said to be now serving in that capacity, was well over sixty years old. All of them were gouty, rheumatic, or wanting in legs and arms, but all of them spent the day incursing the admiralty for sending them there instead of a float. Poor old boys, they were useful enough at sheer nasty in those busy days, and had the civilians of England had a tenth of their patriotism, things would have gone very differently to the way in which they did. As for the convalescents, well they could crawl and that was about all. It was a shame to employ them so soon, but it was a case of needs must when the devil drives, with those who sent them there. For that matter there were plenty of wounded heroes afloat with the fleets, who just got up to take their watches and then had to go to bed till duty called them to their legs again. It sounds almost improbable now, but what was to be done? None complained, duty called them to fight for England as long as they had a leg to stand on, and they did it uncomplainingly. They died in the end, every one of them, only the very strongest tonics the doctors could give kept them going at all. Ah, well, it's over now, and they are all forgotten these unknown heroes of the war. Our dinner with the sheerness veterans was a cheerful enough affair in its way. They were all anxious to bid us Godspeed for the morrow, and everybody was pretty chirpy, except Blake, who have late had taken to croaking a good deal. The skipper of the other destroyer, who had been at the Vernon meeting, put it down in private to our skipper's fear lest the defeat of the British fleet, the essential preliminary to Blake's scheme, should not come off. Now we intervene to stop Blake's prognostications, charging him that all those things, being inevitable, must wait till the morrow. All right, Blake answered, fire away about something else. That's it, said one of the veterans. Here we've asked Major Brown over to give you fellows a true and faithful report of the target practice of the newly enrolled Shouter Gun Fensibles, and you won't give him a chance to tell it. Well, we're all attention now. The name of the Corps sounds interesting. You must know, said the Major, who was a ponderous sort of humorist and belonged to the gunners. You must know that the garrison here has been so depleted, thanks to men needed to help man ships and for foreign service, that we've only a couple of hundred regulars here all told. The rest are militia and London volunteers, infantry mostly, but that's a detail in these days. Well, getting to hear of this, the Shouter, one of these newspapers started since the war began, conceived the brilliant idea of raising a subscription force for the defense of sheerness, and we've got them with us now. A special correspondent chronicles their daily doings, what they eat, what they drink, what they say, how brave they feel, and all the rest of it, not forgetting to mention the unfortunate and unreasonable jealousy with which they are regarded by the conventional garrison. Conventional garrison is good, said someone. Well, how do they get on? Get on, repeated the Major. Well, I wish they had joined the enemy instead. They'd have been a real help to us then. You see, they're all cockneys with votes, and the government just now will do any mortal thing to catch votes, and with a view of getting the few thousand votes of these fellows, it has given them the new fort outside the dockyard, the one where the couple of nine-inch guns used to be. The Shouter, of course, published full plans and details of the fort, all the distances and so forth, so the enemy, if they come, will know exactly how to destroy the thing. Though maybe that'll be a blessing in disguise, as upon my soul, I fancy the first thing the Shouters would do in a bombardment by ships coming up the river would be to drop shells into us out Milton Way, under the impression that we were a hostile turret ship. Well, you have our sympathies, Major, said Blake when the laugh had died away. But no offence, you know. I'm afraid I'm a bitter opponent of your forts altogether. The money that they cost would have been far better spent on half a dozen ships at sea. It's rank heresy of me to say so, the Major answered, but subrosa, I'm getting to be of your opinion. I don't know, of course, that I'd go so far as you and advocate no forts at a place like this, but as a general rule, I'm coming around to the belief that the enemy shores are our boundaries and not the coast of England. Where are the shores of England? They're every hostile coast, sang someone farther down the table. A signalman came in at this moment interrupting the songster. Signal for officers of the fleet, he read. All officers to repair on board immediately. Convoy to put to sea without delay. Our dinner party was hastily broken up. Instead of waiting at sheerness for some cruises from Chatham, we were to be off then and there, and a couple of hours later we were under way. It was a big job getting the Colliers started, but it was done at last and out we all went. The escort was small. Too small, in fact, but no more ships were available. Some miles ahead of the convoy, the decoy, the other destroyer, scouted. Then came the Egger, heading the Collier fleet, which was disposed in two columns of line ahead, eight vessels in each column. A stern of these again were some traps running cargoes to Danish and Swedish ports. On either beam a second class cruiser scouted, while our duties, the most onerous of the lot, consisted in steaming swiftly up and down between the columns, doing what we could to keep the merchant vessels in station. We also had to scout a stern, so altogether were pretty hard worked. We passed the Fort's man by the Shouter Corps safely, and when morning broke, were steaming along at eight knots in terribly irregular order, but the merchant men, thanks to our exertions, were all in sight. This was a comfort, as Blake had prophesied we should lose about two a night, and I was quite astonished on counting them to find that none were missing. About eleven o'clock we met our first adventure. The decoy came tearing back, signalling that strange cruisers were ahead. Frenchmen, I'll be bound, exclaimed Blake, and that's why everything's been so quiet of late in the Atlantic. Depend upon it, these fellows have been round the north of Scotland, whilst our ships have been looking out for them in the channel. They got hold of English newspapers, and learnt the exact disposition of our convoy, date of sailing, and all the rest of it, and now they're going to scoop us all. As it afterwards turned out, Blake's surmise was pretty accurate. The French cruisers had managed to slip round our coasts into the North Sea, and one of them lying in a Danish port received telegraphic information from France as to what time we should sail. It was possibly a suspicion of this sort of thing that brought about the sudden change in our time of sailing, for the French were one too many for us. The convoy came to a standstill. The Edgar and the second-class cruisers steamed quickly away ahead, leaving the rattlesnake in charge. They were soon hulled down on the horizon, and we waited in wondering suspense till towards evening when back they came again. They had found nothing ahead, and shortly afterwards, altering course a few points to the northward, our convoy proceeded at the increased speed of ten knots, which was the utmost many of our flock could manage. Huge columns of black smoke rose from their funnels, leaving great banks of darkness astern, an indication of our whereabouts visible for miles and miles. The night fell. Fortunately for us it was a fairly light one, with occasional bursts of moonlight through the fleecy clouds that fleck the sky. We shall have something happen in the middle tonight, I guess, said Blake as he came up from dinner. We'll all be wanted for that watch. The captain of the Edgar seemed to be of a kindred opinion, and we were kept tearing up and down the lines in strenuous attempts to keep the colliers in some sort of station. About midnight, when the moon was near to setting, we had just made one of our innumerable patrols down the columns, which, despite all our efforts, were now fully ten miles long. We counted them as we steamed past. They were all there, thirty-two vessels including the traps. "'I say, sir,' said Thorn, as we passed the last of these traps. "'What do you make of that packet?' He pointed to a large two-funneled steamer that was going along under easy steam, apparently, notwithstanding that she should, by rights, had been going her hardest. Blake and I both had a good look at the ship. Then the skipper asked Thorn what puzzled him about her. "'Only this, sir, that I could swear that last time we came down the lines, all the lame ducks and stragglers were single-funneled craft. "'And you think this is a French cruiser disguised, who's taken the place of a very laggard tramp while we were ahead?' "'Precisely so, sir.' "'Well, we'd soon make certain by asking a few questions, besides telling her to make her number, but that might be a bit precipitate,' remarked Blake. "'She'd blow us out of the water before we could get a shot in, so we'll just watch her for a while. I don't think she'll try any larks till she can slip up to the middle of the lines.' We steamed on, and presently, watching the mysterious ship from a distance, we saw her put on speed and get ahead of a few of the traps. "'That settles it, I think,' Blake exclaimed, full speed ahead. Man an armship! Quietly, mind!' I gave the necessary orders, and we were soon ready for what might befall. All this time the rattle had been rushing towards the Apollo to whom we signaled our suspicions. Then we went back again at our best speed, the Apollo following at a more leisurely rate. As we had expected, the supposed enemy had again shifted her billet, and was now a stern of the colliers, which still kept some sort of station. "'Ready with torpedo tubes,' ordered Blake. "'Here, I'll see to it myself over this job. Steamed to within a couple of cables, Bovary. It's a longish distance, but we must risk it, and tell those fellows at the twelve-pounder to keep out of sight.' Then he lay along the tubes, his finger on the trigger, while I carried out his orders. In a few minutes we were within the prescribed range, and Blake called me to steam with the stranger, keeping that space between us. "'Tell her to make her number, signalman!' We heard him say to the man who stood near him. I heard the clicking of the lantern, then came a pause. There was no answering signal, but I fancied I could hear a bustle on board the steamer, the sound of men moving and of gunports being opened. "'Lie down!' I hastily ordered the men at the three-pounders near me. "'Repeat the signal,' said Blake. It was never repeated, however. Scarcely had the lantern begun to click afresh, then the stranger opened a tremendous fire upon us, and the colliers around her, and as she did so, I saw the flash of a torpedo darting from our tubes of midships. The enemy must have seen it too, for she immediately tried to turn, but it was too late. The torpedo hit her in bow as she circled, and her game was up. Instantly confusion fell upon the convoy. One of the colliers, hit by the Frenchman's fire, was already settling down. A second collided with her, and all the others became hopelessly mixed up. Some came to a standstill. Others went ahead at full speed, and soon distant flashes, and the whistle and screech of shell, told that the long expected enemy were upon us. Fortunately, the fire of the vessel we torpedoed had been ill-directed so far as we were concerned, and we steamed on, hoping to take some part in the action. Going at twenty-nine knots, our little rattle was neither a very visible nor easy target, and we received no hurt, but on the other hand, unable to distinguish friend from foe, we did no damage to the enemy. We were steaming thus, hoping to find ourselves within torpedo distance of a Frenchman, when a signal rocket went up about a mile and a half to starboard of us. Private signal for destroyers, sir, reported bunting. What is it? Join convoy, I think, sir, the man replied. Blake hurriedly opened the secret signal book, and found therein that the rocket was in immediate order for him to move the convoy on as quickly as possible in the prearranged course. Reluctantly enough, we steamed away to execute our orders, but the enemy had been busy among the colliers, having sunk or captured a large number of them already. A few, however, were tailing away to the northwards, and these we followed, and got away as fast as ever they could steam. At daybreak we made out the Fox and Edgar steaming after us, and lying by for them to come up, we learned more about the night's work. The enemy, ten cruiser strong, had suddenly come up from all quarters of the compass, and our ships, having delayed them sufficiently for some of the colliers to escape, had made off, leaving the enemy firing at each other. The Apollo and decoy had disappeared. They had supposed them to be with us, and not finding them in our company. There was but two good reason to fear that they had been sunk or captured. In any case, however, our sailing orders were too imperative for us to wait to look for them. We had been directed to get into the Baltic at all hazards, with as many colliers as might be able to escape from an attack. So, with nine colliers steaming as hard as ever they could, we hastened on to the Baltic, hoping against hope that the French astern would believe that they had sunk such steamers as they did not find amongst the captured, hoping too that we might be in time to replenish the empty bunkers of the British Baltic fleet. Apparently the French believed we were done for, as we were allowed to pursue our way in peace. Soon we were steaming over the still blue waters of the Baltic, heart-speeding high in the hope that after all we would relieve our countrymen in their dire necessity. Nine colliers did not carry very much coal, but they would bring enough to keep things going for a while. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane Chapter 8 England's Ejospotomy Some little time passed, and we sped along over those deserted waters, meeting no British cruisers as we had hoped to do, but since, when last heard of, some four days before our departure, the whole of the British Baltic fleet were skulking about in the Abope archipelago, this was not entirely a matter to be wondered at. We were steaming along one day off Danzig, spread out over the water, the better decide our friends, when we met a British catcher hotly pursued by Russian cruisers. The Edgar and Fox went to her assistance, whereupon the Russians retired. But more of their ships, coming up shortly afterwards, we all had to run for it, and we, getting separated from them, never saw either our cruisers or colliers again. For ourselves, we managed to shake off our pursuers and to edge round in the direction of the Finnish coast, where we expected to find our own ships. Find them we eventually did, for the next day we came upon a regular forest of ships' masts, standing above the sea where it was shallow along by the islands, and this was the British fleet. While we steamed cautiously among the sunken vessels, trying to recognize them by their rig, we were hailed from a little promontory that jutted seawards, and turning our glasses in that direction, noted some ragged-looking men in naval uniform chased by a mixed mob of Russian soldiers and peasantry. We lowered a boat and manned our guns in the hope that we might learn something from the fugitives if we succeeded in rescuing them. The men, plunging into the water, swam to our boat under a heavy fire from the soldiers on shore until we led into the pursuers with our QF guns, which quickly dispersed them. Here, too, we had imagined the runaways to be Russian deserters, but when the boat returned she had in her seven British sailors belonging to the Hau, and from them we gathered the first news of the disaster of Ebo, and the gruesome details of England's Aegispotomy. They told us how day after day the ships had laying concealed amongst the islands, scarce having coal enough left to keep the cruisers going to deceive the enemy as to the fleet's whereabouts, and how a few days before the cruisers had brought the intelligence that the celebrated Rurik had sited our battleships, and easily shown her heels to our swiftest vessels when they sought to capture her, ere she should convey the news of the British Admiral's position to the fleet that sought for him. Then came more of our cruisers with the news that the enemy were coming in overwhelming force, and all our ships got up steam as well as they could with the scrapings of the bunkers, woodwork, boats, and cabin furniture. Guns had been taken ashore, and the front of the position mined, and here, in a landlocked bay, the British waited for their doom. When the Russians first came up, sir, said one of the men, a leading seamen, narrating his version of the fight to Blake, they held off for a while on the horizon. Perhaps they wasn't quite certain of our strength. Maybe, too, they funked it a bit, thinking as how they'd gone and caught a tarter. The delay was no mannerer used to us, as we was fast-burning what fuel we had. Wood we'd cut down ashore, or chairs and tables and cabin fixings. I was sent into the captain's cabin just before the action with a party to collect fuel, and we cleared out everything that would burn. We tore down all the wood panels, we carried off even books, bedding, clothes, and pictures. Everything that would burn was sent down to the stokehole. It burnt, Lord, how quick it went! And all this time the Russians were so hanging about in the orphan laughin' at us like. The Admiral made a signal. It were the last he ever made, and it read, England expects that every man will die like a true Briton, no surrender. We cheered and cheered again, and then out went our torpedo boats to try and move the Russians, but they never reached them, not they. Every blessive boat was sunk before they got within four cables of them, and then at last the Russians came at us. In front of their fleet was a lot of low-freeboard turret ships, gun boats, and packets of that sort. A stern of these came big ships in a regular cloud of torpedo boats. The sea was black with them, black as the Ace of Spades. The very first shell of what hit us, it must have been a mighty big one, pretty well did for the Howe. Hitting a square in the unprotected battery, it bust again the after funnel, killin' and woundin' every one at the six-inch guns. A lot of deck above was torn away, and half the QF guns on that deck were silenced, too. The wounded was all poisoned by the fumes of the explosive, and no one could even enter the battery for some while to come. Then, a few minutes later, the after Barbette's guns jammed, and we had nothing but the two big guns forward left to fight with. Presently another shell burst under the four Barbette, the turntable give way, and the big guns fallen, crashed right down through the armored deck and through the ship's bottom, so that she began to sink rapidly by the head. We were in shallow water, but the captain steamed yet nearer inshore, and there's the old Anyhow settle down, with her upper work still showin' and makin' such practice as she could with her hotch-kisses. This was in the very beginning of the fight, sir, and while the enemy wasn't comin' up to close quarters. Soon they was close, and blowin' us all the pieces bit by bit with their bigger quick-fire guns. Our mass came down with a crash, and in a very little while not forty of us was left on our legs. I was trying to do somethin' with one of the six pounders when I seized the Paymaster come up. Men, says he, I'm the only Orsifer left. Get out a boat and abandon ship. We'll see you damned first, I called out, unthinkin' like, what about the Admiral's signal? For we was all mad with him, a civilian Orsifer, wantin' us to cut and run. What about it, says he, smilin'? Why, can't we do more good in another ship? Come on, sharp! I begs his parting, then, thinkin' all same that, as we'd all got to be killed, I'd be lucky to get no court-martial, or ten-a, at least. There were a boat towing alongside under the ship's lee. The only one we hadn't burnt, cause she'd been fetchin' wood up to the time the battle begun. And into this we all tumbles. That is, all what were left of us by then, some five-and-twenty-od. Quite near us was the Magnificat, the new flagship, makin' fine fightin' of it. And we rode over to her and was took on board. They cheered us like blazes for comin', and we was soon at it again, as hard as ever. Luckily the Magnificat had some coal still left, and she was soon steamin' fast at the Rutions, and I now see'd why they put their worships forward. They had just gone to be blown up by our minds, and now their best ships come up closer. They rammed our side one after the other. Our fellows hadn't steam enough to get out of the way. And then what didn't get rammed ran ashore, and was finished off that way. Some of our ships torpedoed the Rutions, and some got torpedoed themselves, but mostly it was ram and gun what did it. And come some half-an-hour later, the Magnificat were the only ship left to float and fightin'. You see, sir, we'd a good nine inches of armor over most of our guns, and that kept off our power of a lot of shells. And what with that, and our still havin' a little coal, we was able to fight like ten ships. It weren't no matter of good, though, for all that. The armor couldn't stand batterin' forever. The coal was well nigh done, and our speed got less and less, while we fired so fast that ammunition soon began to run short too. He may wonderous how the Admiral didn't try to run for it at the last, but he hadn't the coal. And so he just kept on trying to do as much harm to the enemy as he could before we went under. Well, it weren't for long, sir. We'd nothing left to fire at their torpedo boats with, and a couple of the beggars sneaked up and fired all their torpedoes into us. The Magnificat went down with a regular rush in eight fathoms, her bilers bustin' as she did so, and those of us what was lucky swam ashore. We got into a little cave and watched the russians sendin' boats to haul down the white ensigns, what still flew from the British mastheads. And havin' done this, all their ironclads what was left formed up into line of breast, facin' the wrecks of our ships, and fired a salute, then they all dipped their ensigns and stood out to sea. "'Mortuis salutio,' said Blake gravely, as the man finished his tale. Well, he added, after a lengthy pause, are you the only survivors. I can't say, sir, plenty of us got ashore, but the islands was full of soldiers who'd been landed some time before to capture our shore-guns, and they took scores of men prisoners as they swam to land. We'd durs and venture out of the cave till nightfall, and then, nigh-dead from cold and hunger, we haunted along the beach for limpets and things to eat. There were a little stream what trickled down by the cave, so we had plenty of water, and we hung about there, a dozen or more of us, till to-day, when one of our A.B.'s was full enough to yell to a girl who was pickin' up seaweed on the beach. She ran off like a mad thing, so I says, clear out while we can, and we all got out over the cliff and into some long grass on top. Then we sighted your ship, sir, and we was wavin' to you when you up-come the soldiers, and we cut and run for it till you come to the rescue, for which we thanks you kindly, sir. We hung about the coast, looking for further survivors, but we found none, and several Russian warships appearing on the horizon we made off in another direction at full speed. We must find our colliers, said Blake, after hearing the engineer's report, for we havin' enough coal to take us back under easy steam, let alone the risk of capture by so doing. My great grief is that the co-workers of England don't live by the seashore, for by heaven, if they did, I'd make for the place and shell it till there wasn't a man left alive, or stone remains standing. It is this coal strike that has ruined England. All we can do now is to try and cripple the enemy in small ways. The day for another Trafalgar is past forever. Yes, it was past. Past even more certainly than we then dreamed of. For that very night it came about that England no longer possessed a fleet. A foggy afternoon, with our ironclads blowing their sirens, a fleet of French torpedo boats guided and attracted by the sound, were the two leading points of that practically unprevetable catastrophe that paralyzed the empire and scattered panic broadcast through the land. The story of this week of disaster is too well known to need repetition in these pages. History is full of it, and full too of our last despairing cry to Germany, on whose alliance the nation had reckoned so vainly. CHAPTER IX. HOW WE ESCAPED. Whether we should find our colliers at all was a good deal open to question. Since by destroying them the enemy could make pretty sure of getting possession of any British warships left in the Baltic. Without the precious black diamonds ships were only so many useless hulks. As it turned out we never met the colliers. The sea was deserted of everything save a few German men of war, which have been gaining cheap naval knowledge by watching the fighting. I think, sir, said my fellow sub to Blake, I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to run alongside one of these German packets and take his coal from him by force. On the grounds that the end justifies the means, Aethorn? No, that won't do it all. For we should either have to stand the brunt of, Lord knows what, for doing it, or else sink the German with all hands so that no one should lay a complaint against us. And I suppose you'd hardly advocate that, replied the skipper with a grim laugh. Perhaps they give us some on the quiet in a friendly sort of way, I suggested. You do, do you? said Blake. Well, it's a pity you haven't read the newspapers a bit more. I think that's a North German Lloyd over there in the fog. We'll overhaul her and test your idea of doing things in a friendly sort of way. In a short while we were within hailing distance of the steamer. German, ahoy! called the skipper, then turning to us, what the deuce is the German for coal? Neither of us knew, though Thorne volunteered quite a dictionary of German swear words. Probably he knows English, sir, try him in that, said I. Ahoy! came the answering hail from the German. Have you any coal to spare? We want coal! we yelled in unison. Yah! Yah! he replied, but kept on his way, just the same. We hailed him again and again, and after a bit a stout red-bearded tootin got on the edge of the bridge and made a speech in our direction. But the purport of his words we could not catch. At the risk of collision we got close alongside, so close that her sides towered high above us, and we could hear the sneering personalities of the passengers who had crowded to the side to gaze at us. Some lumpy German girls on the promenade deck leveled heavy witticisms at our battle-worn uniforms, but there was no reply to our request. Can you spare us any coal? hailed our skipper again. Nine! nine! is he contraband of war? No matter, we must have it. Charge what money you will for it, we must have it. Nine, my friend! You English are no longer ZC bully. You are extinguished, and your von Liedl ship will soon join the others. You will not have the time for to burn it! And then he laughed, and said something in German that seemed to mightily amuse the rest of them. The plight we were in was bad enough, but to be taunted with it by a German merchant skipper, Blake kept his temper outwardly, however, as he replied, And suppose we take it from you by force? For answer the red-bearded one pointed to a German ironclad looming up through the mist, a four-funneled monster that no one could mistake, and then he laughed long and heartily. Dammy, have a good mind to blow the fellow out of the water! growled Blake. The ironclad and steamer had been busy exchanging signals. The former now drew nearer, dipping her flag to us, ironically enough no doubt. As she did so, and we punctiliously returned the salute, while our late acquaintance went on her way, the laughter of passengers and crew still ringing over the water. The ironclad seemed disposed to be nasty, and after all it was small wonder. I owned to a sensation something like what I experienced when caught by the farmer and an orchard in my Britannia days, and I think we all felt that way, more or less. Both vessels were lying alongside, blowing off steam. It was no use our trying to run away from right under her guns. The only thing to do was to brazen it out as best we might. The long and the short of it was that she sent a boat to us, and a very dapper officer, in striking contrast to our shabby war-worn uniforms and filthy decks, came on board us. I understand, sir, said he to Blake in excellent English, that you had been trying to take coal from our merchant ship yonder. I sympathize with the downfall of your nation's sea empire, but I do not think that it justifies piracy on the high seas, which, to put it plainly, is what your attempt would have unmounted to had you been able to carry it out. Look here, sir, said the skipper, facing him squarely. I acknowledged that, but for your arrival we should have taken what we required, though we should have paid for it. I regret the incident, but it was unavoidable. The issues depending on our return are so momentous that any course is justifiable. Put yourself in our place. The German made no answer for a while, seemingly turning the matter over in his own mind. Then rather to our surprise, he said, In your place, Mr. Englishman, I think I should have tried to do the same thing. I regret our inability to help you. For that matter, I regret that our ships are not fighting side by side with yours. But regrets only, Arvain. Should you by chance find a couple of our boats loose with coal in them? Well, you know your English proverb about finding being keeping. Should you do so, please return the boats. And then he took his leave. Following in his wake an hour or so later, we sure enough came across a couple of large boats crammed with sacks of coal. These last we got into our bunkers, and having neatly folded the sacks, returned them and the boats to the ironclad with many thanks. The Germans' good offices did not end even here, for he held on the same course as ourselves till we were clear of the Baltic, and, keeping close on his offside, we managed to pass unobserved a Russian ship or two that, had they seen us, would doubtless have managed to cut us off in the straits. The Baltic Sea Canal had of course been closed to all belligerent warships. We had precious little coal, however, and were pottering along in the North Sea very slowly, when, by great good fortune, we came across the Elizabeth E. Greenwood, a big American collier flying a French flag, and of her we made a bogus capture. As she was fitted with the temporally transporter, we culled from her then and there, and for a consideration that must have cost Blake no end of money, her skipper, a character named a Sinbad N. Rock, consented to accompany us on our fateful mission. Our coal difficulty being thus over, we went on at fifteen knots, which was the utmost the Elizabeth E. Greenwood could manage, and in due course, without meeting either friend or foe, we arrived at Aberdeen, whence Blake dispatched various letters and telegrams that had to do with the great scheme. Here, too, we filled up with coal, so as to keep our supplies in the Yankee for another day, and this done we made south until night, when we doubled round, and thence at easy speed, keeping well out to sea round the north of Scotland, and then southward again till we came by night off the westcote of Arran. Blake's first care on arriving there was to land with half a dozen blue jackets and march across country to Lamblash, which he reached in the early morning before anyone was a stir. This little expedition cut the telegraph wires and destroyed the instruments, to prevent the possibility of any news of our presence being sent to the mainland by that means, and Thorn and I then brought the rattlesnake round to Lamblash Harbor with the Collier in tow. The steamers from Androson and Glasgow had ceased to run since the early days of the coal strike, and we found the harbor deserted, save for a few fishing boats and a trading sloop. These we scuttled, lest their crews, putting to sea, should reveal our presence, and after that we felt safer. There was some excitement and consternation when the good folk of Lamblash awoke to find us lying in the harbor, close in shore. We flew no colors, and were at first taken for foes. Rumors of disaster perturbed even this secluded spot. Until we had steamed round the island again, and destroyed or captured every boat we could find in creeks or inlets, we let them think what they pleased of us, and by the time we returned found some preparations for defense going on, if the gathering together of a small body of men armed with sporting guns can be so styled. They were glad enough to learn our nationality and readily supplied us with provisions of which fortunately they had no lack, though the prices charged were, as was perhaps natural enough, exorbitant. This business of catering fell mostly to me, and glad I was of an opportunity to stretch my legs on land again. Though I went ashore in plain clothes, I was, as a stranger, quickly noticed. And innumerable were the questions put to me, questions to which I returned as evasive answers as possible. Even here it was best to be as secret as possible over our plans, and this Blake had impressed upon me again and again before I departed on my mission. It was as well that he had warned me, for the destruction of the telegraph, now universally known, had raised curiosity as to our motives in the minds of the most thoughtless, and do what I would, I was simply besieged with questions. At last, finding that I was taciturn, whenever my back was turned they set to work to cross-question the blue-jacket I had brought with me to carry my purchases, and gladly enough I let them do so. The blue-jacket, knowing nothing of Blake's scheme, could not accidentally reveal anything, nor was he likely to surmise ought that would not with equal probability occurred to his questioners. My purchases completed. I was returning along the lengthy village street when a couple of men, evidently tourists, came out from a hotel near the landing-place. Excuse me, sir, said one of them, addressing himself to me with a smile doubtless intended to be ingratiating. But I understand you are an officer of the warship and the harbor. I told him that I was. In that case, he went on, you will perhaps forgive some pardonable curiosity on my part, on the part of both of us, in fact. These wild reports of a disaster to our fleet in the Baltic, have they any foundation, in fact? The whole fleet is destroyed, I answered, somewhat curtly, I'm afraid, but somehow I did not like the man or his way of asking. Deucet, unfortunate! Sorry, I'm sure. Might have been worse, though. He continued in a half a side to his companion. You are quite sure that no vessels escaped, enough to join with the ships left and win a battle? He went on to me. As I told you before, the whole fleet is destroyed, so far as I know, and to the best of my belief, ours is the only British ship that got out of the Baltic, I replied. And your ship, is she likely to do anything? questioned the other. I cannot really say, time will show. Then, remembering Blake's horror of newspaper men getting hold of any information whatever, I suddenly asked them what papers they represented. Oh, that's it, is it? The first speaker remarked, with a smile, and fumbling in his pocket he produced a card, setting forth that he was one green, having something or other to do with the stock exchange. My friend here, he continued, is also a stockbroker, mentioning his name. Mr. Fergus, very well known and respected in the city, I assure you, were both heavily interested in the war. Heavily interested? It was terribly unfortunate for us to get stranded here so long. No steamers. Still, we managed fairly well with the telegraph. Now, however, that your captain has seen fit to destroy the wires which were so important to us. I trust that he'll be willing to run us over to Glasgow as a slight recompense. We'll be prepared to pay handsomely for the passage, of course. You'd better come on board and suggest it to him yourself, said I, smiling inwardly as I thought of the reception such a speech would be likely to meet with from Blake. Thanks, I'm sure, he drawled. Well, I fear we detain you. I'm glad this baltic news didn't come a few days sooner. Very glad. Good day to you, and thanks again. Good afternoon, I answered more curtly than ever, and continued my way to the landing stage where the boat awaited me. It took some little while to get all my purchases properly stored, and while this was being seen to, I had leisure to observe my late acquaintances. They were busy bargaining for the use of one of this few small pleasure boats that Blake had left in the harbour. All the larger boats were hitched up to the groggy lizard, as our blue-jackets termed the Yankee Collier. The one who had done most of the talking to me, a red-headed person with small, beady eyes close together and an enormous mustache, was endeavouring to overcome the objections of the boatman to venturing near the rattlesnake. So, at least, I judged from their gesticulations. His companion, a dark, ordinary enough looking man, was taking no part in the conversation, but watching our boat as though speculating whether it would be any use to beg a trip off from me. Having no desire to be bothered with them again, I expedited our departure, and was soon on board ship once more, telling Blake of our probable visitors, but concealing their intended request, as I didn't want to spoil sport. Blake, however, listened to my tale very seriously. Indeed, he made me repeat it, somewhat to my astonishment, as to me the incident seemed trivial enough. I thought them most splendid examples of your theories as to the patriotism of the average modern Britain, sir, self-first and country afterwards, I said. Unfortunately, it doesn't end there in this case, I'm thinking. We'll have trouble with these fellows if we don't look sharp. Trouble in what ways, sir? Many ways. Still, it may be mere fancy on my part. But, all the same, I'm glad they are coming on board. If they strike me as at all suspicious, I'll keep them here, though I can't say I feel anxious for the society of these sorts of bounders. What possible harm these fellows could do or why they should wish to do any to us was beyond me. Still, I didn't argue the point with the skipper. He's been getting devilish fidgety of late, I confided to Thorne, who remarked in return that he'd noticed the same thing, too. It's the disadvantage of not being only a sub, said he, and we thought no more about it. The enterprise upon which we were now embarked was as serious as could well be, and looking back at it now after the lapse of years, I wonder at the easy devil-may-care sort of way in which Thorne and I took things all through. We were very young, both of us, and to the young nothing is serious, and that, I suppose, is the real reason why we never troubled over the probable fact, if indeed it occurred to us, that our friends and relations would, by this, had given us up as dead, for Blake had refused to allow us to post any letters during our call at Aberdeen, and the last they had heard of us would be our trip on convoy duty to the Baltic. As a matter of fact, the news of the rattlesnake's arrival at Aberdeen had been communicated to the papers. We couldn't keep that visit secret. Fortunately for Blake, unfortunately for our friends, the papers, a day or two later, contained a brief report of how, putting south from the Scotch port, the rattlesnake had been attacked and sunk by French cruisers, all on board being lost. This, however, I did not hear of till long afterwards. I thought when I heard it, and still think, that Blake himself was in some way responsible for this report getting afloat. Though in what fashion he managed it, I cannot surmise. CHAPTER X We wished to see the captain. The red-headed one cried as soon as they were within hail. I am the captain, replied Blake politely. What can I do for you? Oh, we'll get on the ship and tell you presently. The remark was off-hand enough, and doubtless due to their noticing Blake's war-worn uniform, we were certainly, all of us, a disreputable lot to look at. War service and a destroyer is bad for clothes. The skipper allowed them to come on board down into the wardroom where they sat down and soon made themselves at home. My name is Green, said the red-headed one patronizingly, as I thought. And my friend here is called Fergus, a very well-known man of the city, very well-known. Indeed, I may say we are both men of substance there, commanding as we do a large amount of capital. My name is Blake, and my friend here is called Bovery, replied the skipper. I believe he was half inclined to add, very well known on board the rattlesnake, but checked himself. Blake, remarked Mr. Fergus, I seem to know the name. Had a clerk of that name once? Very smart fellow. Any relation? I'm afraid I haven't the honour, Blake answered with a slight cough. Well, what do you want of me? My time just now is rather occupied, so if you will kindly state your business, it will be a convenience, he continued. Ah, yes, said Green, just so. Well, the fact of the matter is that my friend Mr. Fergus and myself are much incommodated by the fashion in which you have destroyed the telegraph here. Which, you know, is public property. However, we are willing to believe that you did it with some reason that may explain it satisfactorily. Quite satisfactorily. So if you can see your way to just running us over to Glasgow or Ardreson at your earliest convenience, well, we will promise that you will get into no trouble over it on our account. Well, if you want to go over to Glasgow, why don't you go? Asked the skipper with an assumption of innocence that amuse me mightily. Go? Why, because we can't, that's why. You appear to have stolen, but, I mean, all the boats in the place, which was a clever move, very clever, and I'm sure we admire it. However, you can name your own terms, you know. I expected to see Blake turn purple with rage, but he controlled himself well. I don't quite follow you, he said, but I'm afraid it will be quite three weeks before you can leave, Aaron. You may as well out with it green, put in Mr. Fergus. The fact is, Mr. Blake, you're one too many for us. However, you've got your exclusive information and have, of course, sold accordingly ere this, but it's a little hard that you should keep us from it, too. It doesn't make any odds to you, you know. Not the slightest was the reply. However, I'm quite sure that you won't be able to leave Lamblash for quite three weeks or more. Moreover, any attempt to leave the island would result in your getting shot. Good day. You're an unprincipled scoundrel, that's what you are, cried green, completely losing his temper, and by heaven I'll be even with you yet. The country hasn't got to quite such a state that a man can steal boats, destroy government property, and threaten murder, actually murder, with impunity. This from a public servant who runs away from his fleet in order to rig the money market. They may well say the country is going to the devil, they may. But here, Fergus, who seemed the more level-headed of the two, interrupted him. Don't be a fool, green. You'll be getting chucked overboard or something of that sort if you don't take care. He added in a half a side. Blake and I burst out laughing. We really couldn't help it. I'm not sure that they wouldn't have preferred us to be indignant, but the whole thing was such an absurd farce. It was impossible to get angry about it, or treat it seriously. Bitting us a stiff good day, they went off, and we saw no more of them for a while. Dash, those idiots, said Blake when his merriment had subsided. It's all very well to laugh at them, as we've got them boxed up in the island. But all the same, they'd smash up all our plans for the sake of their infernal stocks and shares if they got but half a chance. However, since they can't, let them sit and curse us all day long if it pleases them. The next day, the third after our arrival, smoke was visible on the horizon beyond King's Cross, and by and by the Niger, with two torpedo boats in tow, came into harbour. In the course of the next day or so we were joined by several more catchers, destroyers, and torpedo boats, all of which had deserted as soon as practicable after the receipt of Blake's telegrams, and one of the destroyers, the Hornet, brought a welcome addition in the shape of the Collier Lily, which it had been her duty to escort somewhere or other. The indignation of Captain Higgs of the Lily had at first been intense, but later, on learning what was in the wind, he had come to, like the patriotic Britain that he was, and refused to take any compensation for the great inconvenience Blake's plan compelled him to undergo. Although we were safe at Lamblash, so far as news of our whereabouts being carried dense was concerned, we were daily exposed to the danger of discovery by a hostile cruiser, or even by an English one not in the secret. To minimize this danger, our ships were disguised as much as possible, and anchored in very irregular fashion. But our skipper, or Commodore, as I should now call him, was anxious to mine the entrances to the harbour, which would guard us safely from any foe, and better still, enable us to save coal by drawing fires. Hither, too, we had lain with steam up, and there seemed little prospect of our being able to discontinue it, for we needed the explosive in our torpedoes for its own work, and such gunpowder as we were able to collect ashore was totally insufficient for our purposes. We got what protection we could by putting our torpedo boats at the entrances, but there was always the risk that a cruiser, seeing them, would either be able to sink them before they could get within striking distance, or else turn tail and be off to get her friends the moment she spotted them, and the enemy were well able to bring up enough ships to shut us in altogether had they wished to. All together we were at our wit's end, and then it was that Captain Higgs proved himself of inestimable service. Running over in his collier to Glasgow, where he was well known, he managed somehow to obtain a quantity of dynamite and blasting powder, as well as a few other things we needed. Returning by a roundabout course so as to avoid suspicion, he brought the news that the city was in a panic. Business was practically suspended. Visits from enemy's cruisers were hourly expected. He also brought us newspapers, wherefrom we learned how a French army corps had landed on the south coast, and taking Portsmouth in the rear, transformed it into a naval and military base for further operations and all the other events that I need not recapitulate here. Captain Higgs did us another service, too, by giving out to the Glasgow folk that a French cruiser had been at lamblash and bombarded the place. This explained the destruction of telegraphic communication and prevented any attempt to repair it for fear the enemy was still lying there. The dynamite was gladly welcomed by Blake, and soon we had electrically fitted mines at both ends of Holy Island, worked from a camera obscura situated on the top of the hill, and after this we felt safer. We were none too soon with our mines for ere we had everything complete, a French cruiser making in the direction of Glasgow headed for our harbour. Training our guns and torpedo tubes in her direction, we waited breathlessly for results. She seemed in no hurry whatever she was at, and after steaming to within a few yards of our outermost mines, withdrew again. Had anything suspicious been noted, and was she going off to alarm her consorts? After a wait that seemed to last for hours, but cannot really have been very long, back she came again, steaming slowly and cautiously. Lieutenant Orchardston, who had charge of the minefield, eagerly watching the plate of our extempore camera obscura, saw the pictured warship pass phantom-like over one of the circles marked thereon to indicate the radius of destruction, and as she did so he pressed a button. A huge column of water enveloped the enemy, with it came a wave that rolled all our vessels till the sea broke over their decks, and when we looked again, there was nothing but troubled water left where the cruiser had been. The Dasher, which alone of us had steam up, went out to the spot, but no survivors were found. The annihilation of the enemy had been as complete as it had been instantaneous.