Kitabı oku: «The Invasion of 1910», sayfa 26
The question produced the utmost sensation. The House during the whole afternoon had been in breathless anxiety as to what was actually happening in London; but the Government held the telegraphs and telephone, and the only private despatches that had come to Bristol were the two received by some roundabout route known only to the ingenious journalists who had despatched them. Indeed, the despatches had been conveyed the greater portion of the way by motor-car.
A complete silence fell. Every face was turned towards the War Minister, who, seated with outstretched legs, was holding in his hand a fresh despatch he had just received.
He rose, and, in his deep bass voice, said —
“In reply to the honourable member for South-East Brixton, the statement he makes appears, from information which has just reached me, to be correct. The Germans are, unfortunately, bombarding London. Von Kronhelm, it is reported, is at Hampstead, and the zone of the enemy’s artillery reaches, in some cases, as far south as the Thames itself. It is true, as the honourable member asserts, an enormous amount of damage has already been done to various buildings, and there has undoubtedly been great loss of life. My latest information is that the non-combatant inhabitants – old persons, women, and children – are in flight across the Thames, and that the barricades in the principal roads leading in from the north are held strongly by the armed populace, driven back into London.”
He sat down without further word.
A tall, thin, white-moustached man rose at that moment from the Opposition side of the House. Colonel Farquhar, late of the Royal Marines, was a well-known military critic, and represented West Bude.
“And this,” he said, “is the only hope of England! The defence of London by an armed mob, pitted against the most perfectly equipped and armed force in the world! Londoners are patriotic, I grant. They will die fighting for their homes, as every Englishman will when the moment comes; yet, what can we hope, when patriotism is ranged against modern military science? There surely is patriotism in the savage negro races of Central Africa, a love of country perhaps as deep as in the white man’s heart; yet a little strategy, a few Maxims, and all defence is quickly at an end. And so it must inevitably be with London. I contend, Mr. Speaker,” he went on, “that by the ill-advised action of the Government from the first hour of their coming into power, we now find ourselves conquered. It only remains for them now to make terms of peace as honourable to themselves as the unfortunate circumstances will admit. Let the country itself judge their actions in the light of events of to-day, and let the blood of the poor murdered women and children of London be upon their heads. (Shame.) To resist further is useless. Our military organisation is in chaos, our miserably weak army is defeated, and in flight. I declare to this House that we should sue at this very moment for peace – a dishonourable peace though it be; but the bitter truth is too plain – England is conquered!”
As he sat down amid the “hear, hears” and loud applause of the Opposition there rose a keen-faced, dark-haired, clean-shaven man of thirty-seven or so. He was Gerald Graham, younger son of an aristocratic house, the Yorkshire Grahams, who sat for North-East Rutland. He was a man of brilliant attainments at Oxford, a splendid orator, a distinguished writer and traveller, whose keen brown eye, lithe upright figure, quick activity, and smart appearance rendered him a born leader of men. For the past five years he had been marked out as a “coming man.”
As a soldier he had seen hard service in the Boer War, being mentioned twice in despatches; as an explorer he had led a party through the heart of the Congo and fought his way back to civilisation through an unexplored land with valiant bravery that had saved the lives of his companions. He was a man who never sought notoriety. He hated to be lionised in society, refused the shoals of cards of invitation which poured in upon him, and stuck to his Parliamentary duties, and keeping faith with his constituents to the very letter.
As he stood up silent for a moment, gazing around him fearlessly, he presented a striking figure, and in his navy serge suit he possessed the unmistakable cut of the smart, well-groomed Englishman who was also a man of note.
The House always listened to him, for he never spoke without he had something of importance to say. And the instant he was up a silence fell.
“Mr. Speaker,” he said, in a clear, ringing voice, “I entirely disagree with my honourable friend the member for West Bude. England is not conquered! She is not beaten!”
The great hall rang with loud and vociferous cheers from both sides of the House. Then, when quiet was restored by the Speaker’s stentorian “Order-r-r! Order!” he continued —
“London may be invested and bombarded. She may even be sacked, but Englishmen will still fight for their homes, and fight valiantly. If we have a demand for indemnity, let us refuse to pay it. Let us civilians – let the civilians in every corner of England – arm themselves and unite to drive out the invader! (Loud cheers.) I contend, Mr. Speaker, that there are millions of able-bodied men in this country who, if properly organised, will be able to gradually exterminate the enemy. Organisation is all that is required. Our vast population will rise against the Germans, and before the tide of popular indignation and desperate resistance the power of the invader must soon be swept away. Do not let us sit calmly here in security, and acknowledge that we are beaten. Remember, we have at this moment to uphold the ancient tradition of the British race, the honour of our forefathers, who have never been conquered. Shall we acknowledge ourselves conquered in this the twentieth century?”
“No!” rose from hundreds of voices, for the House was now carried away by young Graham’s enthusiasm.
“Then let us organise!” he urged. “Let us fight on. Let every man who can use a sword or gun come forward, and we will commence hostilities against the Kaiser’s forces that shall either result in their total extermination or in the power of England being extinguished. Englishmen will die hard. I myself will, with the consent of this House, head the movement, for I know that in the country we have millions who will follow me and will be equally ready to die for our country if necessary. Let us withdraw this statement that we are conquered. The real, earnest fight is now to commence,” he shouted, his voice ringing clearly through the hall. “Let us bear our part, each one of us. If we organise and unite, we shall drive the Kaiser’s hordes into the sea. They shall sue us for peace, and be made to pay us an indemnity, instead of us paying one to them. I will lead!” he shouted; “who will follow me?”
In London the Lord Mayor’s patriotic proclamations were now obliterated by a huge bill bearing the German Imperial arms, the text of which told its own grim tale. It is reproduced on next page, and at its side was printed a translation in German text.
In the meantime the news of the fall of London was being circulated by the Germans to every town throughout the kingdom, their despatches being embellished by lurid descriptions of the appalling losses inflicted upon the English. In Manchester, a great poster, headed by the German Imperial arms, was posted up on the Town Hall, the Exchange, and other places, in which Von Kronhelm announced the occupation of London; while in Leeds, Bradford, Stockport, and Sheffield, similarly worded official announcements were also posted. The Press in all towns occupied by the Germans had been suppressed, papers only appearing in order to publish the enemy’s orders. Therefore, this official intelligence was circulated by proclamation, calculated to impress upon the inhabitants of the country how utterly powerless they were.
While Von Kronhelm sat in that large sombre room in the War Office, with his telegraph instrument to Potsdam ever ticking, and the wireless telegraphy constantly in operation, he wondered, and still wondered, why the English made no response to his demands. He was in London. He had carried out his Emperor’s instructions to the letter, he had received the Imperial thanks, and he held all the gold coin he could discover in London as security. Yet, without some reply from the British Government, his position was an insecure one. Even his thousand and one spies who had served him so well ever since he had placed foot upon English soil could tell him nothing. The deliberations of the House of Commons at Bristol were a secret.
In Bristol the hot, fevered night had given place to a gloriously sunny morning, with a blue and cloudless
NOTICE AND ADVICE
—
TO THE CITIZENS OF LONDON
—
I ADDRESS YOU SERIOUSLY.
We are neighbours, and in time of peace cordial relations have always existed between us. I therefore address you from my heart in the cause of humanity.
Germany is at war with England. We have been forced to penetrate into your country.
But each human life spared, and all property saved, we regard as in the interests of both religion and humanity.
We are at war, and both sides have fought a loyal fight.
Our desire is, however, to spare disarmed citizens and the inhabitants of all towns and villages.
We maintain a severe discipline, and we wish to have it known that punishment of the severest character will be inflicted upon any who are guilty of hostility to the Imperial German arms, either open or in secret.
To our regret any incitements, cruelties, or brutalities we must judge with equal severity.
I therefore call upon all local mayors, magistrates, clergy, and schoolmasters to urge upon the populace, and upon the heads of families, to urge upon those under their protection, and upon their domestics, to refrain from committing any act of hostility whatsoever against my soldiers.
All misery avoided is a good work in the eye of our Sovereign Judge, who sees all men.
I earnestly urge you to heed this advice, and I trust in you.
Take notice!
VON KRONHELM,Commanding the Imperial German Army.
German Military Headquarters,
Whitehall, London, September 20, 1910.
sky. Above Leigh Woods the lark rose high in the sky, trilling his song, and the bells of Bristol rang out as merrily as they ever did, and above the Colston Hall still floated the Royal Standard – a sign that the House had not yet adjourned.
While Von Kronhelm held London, Lord Byfield and the remnant of the British Army, who had suffered such defeat in Essex and north of London, had, four days later, retreated to Chichester and Salisbury, where reorganisation was in rapid progress. One division of the defeated troops had encamped at Horsham. The survivors of those who had fought the battle of Charnwood Forest, and had acted so gallantly in the defence of Birmingham, were now encamped on the Malvern Hills, while the defenders of Manchester were at Shrewsbury. Speaking roughly, therefore, our vanquished troops were massing at four points, in an endeavour to make a last attack upon the invader. The Commander-in-Chief, Lord Byfield, was near Salisbury, and at any hour he knew that the German legions might push westward from London to meet him and to complete the coup.
The League of Defenders formed by Gerald Graham and his friends was, however, working independently. The wealthier classes, who, driven out of London, were now living in cottages and tents in various parts of Berks, Wilts, and Hants, worked unceasingly on behalf of the League, while into Plymouth, Exmouth, Swanage, Bristol, and Southampton more than one ship had already managed to enter laden with arms and ammunition of all kinds, sent across by the agents of the League in France. The cargoes were of a very miscellaneous character, from modern Maxims to old-fashioned rifles that had seen service in the war of 1870. There were hundreds of modern rifles, sporting guns, revolvers, swords – in fact, every weapon imaginable, modern and old-fashioned. These were at once taken charge of by the local branches of the League, and to those men who presented their tickets of identification the arms were served out, and practice conducted in the open fields. Three shiploads of rifles were known to have been captured by German warships, one off Start Point, another a few miles outside Padstow, and a third within sight of the coastguard at Selsey Bill. Two other ships were blown up in the Channel by drifting mines. The running of arms across from France and Spain was a very risky proceeding; yet the British skipper is nothing if not patriotic, and every man who crossed the Channel on those dangerous errands took his life in his hand.
Into Liverpool, Whitehaven, and Milford weapons were also coming over from Ireland, even though several German cruisers, who had been up at Lamlash to cripple the Glasgow trade, had now come south, and were believed still to be in the Irish Sea.
CHAPTER IX
WHAT WAS HAPPENING AT SEA
Our fleet, however, was not inactive. The Germans had mined the Straits of Dover, and one of the turbine Channel steamers had been sunk with great loss of life. They had bombarded Brighton, mined Portsmouth, and made a raid on the South Wales coal ports.
How these raiders were pursued is best described in the official history of the invasion, as follows: —
The Trevose wireless station signalled that the Germans were off Lundy about 2 p.m., steaming west with fourteen ships of all kinds, some moving very slowly. The Lion and Kincardineshire at once altered course to the north, so as to intercept them and draw across their line of retreat. At the same time they learnt that two British protected cruisers had arrived from Devonport off the Longships, and were holding the entrance to the English Channel, and moving slowly north behind them.
About 3.30 the wireless waves came in so strongly from the north-east that the captain of the Lion, who was in charge of the cruiser division, became certain of the proximity of the German force. The signals could not be interpreted, as they were tuned on a different system from the British. The Germans must have also felt the British signals, since about this time they divided, the three fast liners increasing speed and heading west, while the rest of the detachment steered north-west. The older German vessels were delayed some fifteen minutes by the work of destroying the four colliers, which they had carried off forcibly with them from Cardiff, and removing their crews. Delay at such a moment was most dangerous.
Soon after 3.45 p.m. the lookout on board the Lion reported from the masthead, smoke on the horizon right ahead. The Lion’s head was set towards the smoke, which could be only faintly seen, and her speed was increased to twenty-one knots. The Kincardineshire altered course simultaneously – she was ten miles away on the port beam of the Lion, and in constant communication by wireless with the Selkirk, which was still farther out. Ten minutes later the Selkirk signalled that she saw smoke, and that with the ten destroyers accompanying her she was steering towards it. Her message added that the Irish Sea destroyers were in sight, coming in very fast from the north, nine strong, with intervals of two miles between each boat, still keeping their speed of thirty knots.
The cordon was now complete, and the whole force of twenty-two cruisers and torpedo craft turned in towards the spot where the enemy was located. At 4.5 the lookout on the Lion reported a second cloud of smoke on the horizon, rather more to starboard than the one first seen, which had been for some minutes steadily moving west. This second cloud was moving very slowly north-westwards.
The captain of the Lion determined to proceed with his own ship towards this second cloud, and directed the Kincardineshire, which was slightly the faster cruiser, to follow the movements of the first-seen smoke and support the Selkirk in attacking the ships from which it proceeded.
The enemy’s fleet soon came into view several miles away. Three large steamers were racing off towards the Atlantic and the west; seven smaller ships were steaming slowly north-west. In the path of the three big liners were drawn up the Selkirk and the ten destroyers of the Devonport flotilla, formed in line abreast, with intervals of two miles between each vessel, so as to cover as wide an extent of sea as possible. The Kincardineshire was heading fast to support the Selkirk and attack the three large German ships. Farther to the north, but as yet invisible to the Lion, and right in the path of the squadron of old German ships, were nine destroyers of the Irish Sea flotilla, vessels each of 800 tons and thirty-three knots, also drawn up in line abreast, with intervals of two miles to cover a wide stretch of water.
The moment the Germans came into view the two protected cruisers at Land’s End were called up by wireless telegraphy, and ordered to steam at nineteen knots towards the Selkirk. The two Devonport battleships, which had now reached Land’s End, were warned of the presence of the enemy.
Sighting the ten Devonport destroyers and the Selkirk to the west of them, the three fast German liners, which were the Deutschland, Kaiser Wilhelm II., and Kronprinz Wilhelm, all three good for twenty-three knots in any weather, made a rush for the gap between the Devonport destroyers and the Kincardineshire. Perceiving their intention, the Kincardineshire turned to cut them off, and the ten destroyers and the Selkirk headed to engage them. In danger of all being brought to action and destroyed if they kept together, the German liners scattered at 4.15: the Deutschland steered south-east to pass between the Kincardineshire and the Lion; the Kaiser Wilhelm steered boldly for a destroyer which was closing in on her from the starboard bow; and the Kronprinz Wilhelm ran due north.
The Deutschland, racing along at a tremendous speed, passed between the Kincardineshire and the Lion. The Lion at long range put three 9.2-inch shells into her without stopping her; the Kincardineshire gave her a broadside from her 6-inch guns at about 5000 yards, and hit her several times. But the British fire did not bring her to, and she went off to the south-west at a great pace, going so fast that it was clear the armoured cruisers would stand little chance of overhauling her.
The Kaiser Wilhelm charged through the line of destroyers, receiving a heavy fire from the 6-inch weapons of the Selkirk and Kincardineshire, and in her turn pouring a rapid fire upon two of the Devonport destroyers, which attempted to torpedo her, and missed her at about 900 yards. The Selkirk, however, was close astern of her, and with her engines going twenty-three knots, which was just a fraction less than what the German engineers were doing, concentrated upon her a very heavy fire from all her 6-inch guns that would bear.
The fore-turret with its two 6-inch weapons in two minutes put twenty shells into the German stern. One of these projectiles must have hit the steering gear, for suddenly and unexpectedly the Kaiser Wilhelm came round on a wide circle, and as she wheeled, the broadside of the British cruiser came into action with a loud crash, and at 3000 yards rained 100-lb. and 12-lb. shells upon the liner. The beating of the pom-poms in the Selkirk could be heard above the roar of the cannonade; and seeing that the liner was now doomed, the British destroyers drew off a little.
Under the storm of shells the German crew could not get the steering gear in working order. The great ship was still turning round and round in a gigantic circle, when the Lion came into action with her two 9·2’s and her broadside of eight 6-inch weapons. Round after round from these was poured into the German ship. The British gunners shot for the water-line, and got it repeatedly. At 4.40, after a twenty minutes’ fight, the white flag went up on board the Kaiser Wilhelm, and it was seen that she was sinking. Her engines had stopped, she was on fire in twenty places, and her decks were covered with the dying and the dead. The first of the raiders was accounted for.
Meantime, the Kronprinz Wilhelm had with equal swiftness dashed north, receiving only a few shots from the Selkirk, as she passed her, 8000 yards away. The British armoured cruiser Kincardineshire followed in the German ship’s wake ten miles astern and quite out of range. The German liner was seen by the ocean-going destroyers of the Irish Sea flotilla, which headed after her, and four of them going thirty knots easily drew ahead of her. To attack such a vessel with the torpedo was an undertaking which had no promise of success.
The British destroyer officers, however, were equal to the occasion. They employed skilful tactics to effect their object. The four big destroyers took station right ahead of the German ship and about 1500 yards away from her. In this direction none of her guns would bear. From this position they opened on her bows with their sternmost 13-pounders, seeking to damage the bow of the Kronprinz Wilhelm, breach the forward compartments, and so delay the ship. If she turned or yawed, her turn must give time for the Kincardineshire to get at her.
The gunners in the four destroyers shot magnificently. Their projectiles were small, but for fifteen minutes they made incessant hits upon the German ship’s bow. At last their punishment had the desired effect upon her. Angry at the attack of these puny little antagonists, the German captain turned to bring his broadside to bear. As he did so, the destroyers quickened to thirty knots, and altered course. Though the German guns maintained a rapid fire upon them, they were going so fast that they escaped out of effective range without any serious damage, regained their station on their enemy’s bow, and then reduced speed till they were within easy range for their little guns. But in the interval the Kincardineshire had perceptibly gained on the German ship, and was now within extreme range. About 5.50 p.m. she fired a shot from her fore-turret, and, as it passed over the German ship, opened a slow but precise fire from all her 6-inch guns that would bear at about 9000 yards range.
The small shells of the destroyers were beginning to have some effect. The fore-compartment of the Kronprinz Wilhelm was riddled, and water was pouring into it at such a pace that the pumps could not keep the inrush down. The trim of the ship altered slightly, and with this alteration of trim her speed fell by nearly a knot. The Kincardineshire began to gain visibly, and her fire to tell more and more. At 6.50 she was only 7000 yards off the German ship, and her 6-inch guns began to make many hits on the enemy’s stern.
To increase his speed to the utmost the captain of the Kincardineshire set all his spare hands at work to jettison coal, and flung overboard every bit of lumber. The spare water in his tanks shared the fate of his surplus fuel. At the same time the stokers in the engine-rooms were told that the ship was closing the enemy, and worked with a redoubled will. Large parties of bluejackets led by lieutenants were sent down to pass coal from the bunkers; in the engine-rooms the water was spouting from half a dozen hoses upon the bearings. The engineer-lieutenants, standing in a deluge of spray, kept the pointer of the stokehold telegraphs always at “more steam.” Smoke poured from the funnels, for no one now cared about the niceties of naval war.
The ship seemed to bound forward, and with a satisfied smile the engineer-captain came down into the turmoil to tell his men that the cruiser was going twenty-four knots, her speed on her trials nearly six years before. Five minutes later the shock and heavy roar of firing from twenty guns told the men below that the broadside battery was coming into action, and that the race was won.
At 7.25 the Kincardineshire had closed the German ship within 5000 yards. About this time the Kronprinz Wilhelm’s speed seemed markedly to decline, and the big armoured cruiser gained upon her rapidly, spouting shell from all her guns that would bear.
At 7.40 the British warship was only 3000 yards off, and slightly altered course to bring her enemy broader on the beam and get the broadside into battle. Five minutes later a succession of 6-inch hits from the British guns caused a great explosion in the German ship, and from under the base of her fourth funnel rose a dense cloud of steam, followed by the glow of fire through the gathering darkness.
A minute later the Kronprinz Wilhelm stopped, and the chase was over. She hoisted the white flag, while her captain opened her sea-valves, to send her to the bottom. But the British destroyers were too quick for him; a boarding party dashed on board from the Camelopard, and closed the Kingston valves before enough water had been taken into the double bottom to endanger the liner.
In this brief action between two very unequally matched ships, the Germans suffered very severely. They had fifty officers and men killed or wounded out of a crew of 500, while in the British cruiser and the destroyers only fifteen casualties were recorded. The Kincardineshire stood by her valuable prize to secure it and clear the vessel of the German crew. The Kronprinz Wilhelm was on fire in two places, and was badly damaged by the British shells. One of her boilers had exploded, and her fore-compartment was full of water. But she was duly taken into Milford next morning, to be repaired at Pembroke Dockyard, and hoist the British flag.
Meantime, the Lion had been attending to the other German vessels. After taking part in the destruction of the Kaiser Wilhelm she had turned north and chased them, aided by the Selkirk. Five of the ocean-going destroyers and the ten Devonport destroyers had already proceeded to keep them under observation and harry them to the utmost.
They were still going north-west, and had obtained about twenty-five miles’ start of the two big British cruisers. But as they could only steam twelve or thirteen knots, while the British ships were good for twenty-one, they had little chance of escape, the less so as the 14,000-ton-protected cruiser Terrific, the flagship of the torpedo flotilla, was fast coming up at twenty knots from Kingstown, and at 6 p.m. had passed the Smalls, reporting herself by wireless telegraphy, and taking charge of the operations in virtue of the fact that she carried a rear-admiral’s flag.
The approach of this new antagonist must have been known to the Germans by the indications which her wireless waves afforded. On the way she had received the news of a serious British defeat in the North Sea, and her Admiral was smarting to have some share in reversing that great calamity.
Before dusk she was in sight of the seven German ships, with their attendant British destroyers. The Germans once more scattered. The Gefion, which was the only really fast ship, made off towards the west, but was promptly headed off by the Terrific and driven back. The Pfeil headed boldly towards Milford, and as the batteries at that place were not yet manned, caused some moments of great anxiety to the British. Two of the fast ocean-going destroyers were ordered to run in between her and the port and to torpedo her if she attempted to make her way in through the narrow entrance. Observing their manœuvre, the German captain once more turned south. The other five German ships kept in line, and attemped to pass between the Smalls and the Welsh coast.
The Terrific had now closed the Gefion sufficiently to open fire with her 9·2’s and 6-inch guns. The fight was so unequal that it could not be long protracted. With every disadvantage of speed, protection, and armament, the German cruiser was shattered by a few broadsides, and, in a sinking condition, surrendered just after dark.
The Selkirk and Lion passed her and fired a few shots at her just before she struck, but were ordered by the Rear-Admiral to attend to the other German ships. Five shots from the Lion’s bow 9·2-inch gun settled the Pfeil, which beached herself in Freshwater Bay, where the crew blew up the ship, and were captured a few hours later. Thus four of the ten raiders were disposed of, and there now remained only five within reach of the British ships clearing the Bristol Channel.
It was 9 p.m. before the Lion and Selkirk had closed on the remnant of the German squadron which had raided the South Wales ports sufficiently to engage it. The five German ships had passed through the dangerous passage between the Smalls and the mainland without misadventure, and were slightly to the north-west of St. David’s Head.
Right ahead of them were the British destroyers, ready to co-operate in the attack as soon as the big cruisers came up; abreast of the German line were the two large British armoured cruisers; well astern of them was the Terrific, heading to cut off their retreat. The German ships were formed up with the Cormoran at the head, and astern of her in line the Sperber, Schwalbe, Meteor, and Falke. None of these poor old vessels mounted anything larger than a 4-inch gun, and none of them could steam more than twelve knots. The only course remaining for them was to make some show of fight for the honour of the German flag, and to their credit be it said that they did this.
The task of the British cruisers was a simple one. It was to destroy the German vessels with their powerful ordnance, keeping at such a distance that the German projectiles could do them no serious damage. At 9.10 the fight began, and the Lion and Selkirk opened with their entire broadsides upon the Cormoran and Falke. The Germans gallantly replied to the two great cruisers, and for some minutes kept up a vigorous fire.
Then the Cormoran began to burn, and a few minutes later the Falke was seen to be sinking. The British ships turned all their guns upon the three remaining vessels. The Meteor blew up with a terrific crash, and went to the bottom; the Sperber and Schwalbe immediately after this hoisted the white flag and made their surrender. The battle, if it could be called a battle, was over before ten, and the officers and men of the British ships set to work to rescue their enemies. The British casualties were again trifling, and the German list a heavy one. Of the officers and men in the five German cruisers over a hundred were drowned, killed, or wounded.
