The Great War in England in 1897. Le Queux William
was indescribable, over a hundred steerage passengers being killed or mutilated by the shells from the bow guns of the cruiser, and the captain himself being blown to atoms by an explosion which occurred when a shot struck and carried away the forward funnel. After an exciting chase, the Carpathian was sunk near Start Point, and of the five hundred passengers and crew scarcely a single person survived.
This terrible work of destruction accomplished, the Russian cruiser turned westward again to await further prey. As she steamed away, however, another ship rounded the Start following at full speed in her wake. This vessel, which was flying the British flag, was the barbette-ship Centurion. Already her captain had witnessed the attack and sinking of the Carpathian, but from a distance too great to enable him to assist the defenceless liner, and he was now on his way to attack the Tsar's cruiser. Almost immediately she was noticed by the enemy. Half an hour later she drew within range, and soon the two ships were engaged in a most desperate encounter. The gunners on the Centurion, seeing the Russian cross flying defiantly, and knowing the frightful havoc already wrought on land by the enemy, worked with that pluck and indomitable energy characteristic of the Britisher. Shot after shot was exchanged, but hissed and splashed without effect until the ships drew nearer, and then nearly every shell struck home. The rush of flame from the quick-firing guns of the Centurion was continuous, and the firing was much more accurate than that of her opponent, nevertheless the latter was manipulated with remarkable skill.
The roar of the guns was deafening. Clouds of smoke rose so thickly that the vessels could scarcely distinguish each other. But the firing was almost continuous, until suddenly a shell struck the Centurion abaft the funnel, and for a moment stilled her guns.
This, however, was not for long, for in a few moments she recovered from the shock, and her guns were again sending forth shells with regularity and precision. Again a shell struck the Centurion, this time carrying away one of her funnels and killing a large number of men.
The British captain, still as cool as if standing on the hearthrug of the smoking-room of the United Service Club, took his vessel closer, continuing the fire, heedless of the fact that the Russian shells striking his ship were playing such fearful havoc with it. Every preparation had been made for a desperate fight to the death, when suddenly a shot struck the vessel, causing her to reel and shiver.
So well had the Russians directed their fire that the British vessel could not reply. One of her 29-tonners had been blown completely off its carriage, and lay shattered with men dead all around, while two of her quick-firing broadside guns had been rendered useless, and she had sustained other injuries of a very serious character, besides losing nearly half her men.
She was silent, riding to the swell, when wild exultant shouts in Russian went up from the enemy's ship, mingling with the heavy fire they still kept up.
At that moment, however, even while the victorious shouts resounded, the captain of the Centurion, still cool and collected, swung round his vessel, and turning, touched one of the electric knobs at his hand. As he did so a long silvery object shot noiselessly from the side of the ship, and plunged with a splash into the rising waves.
Seconds seemed hours. For a whole three minutes the captain waited; then, disappointed, he turned away with an expression of impatience. The torpedo had missed its mark, and every moment lost might determine their fate. With guns still silent he again adroitly manœuvred his ship. Once again he touched the electric knob, and again a torpedo, released from its tube, sped rapidly through the water.
Suddenly a dull and muffled explosion from the Russian cruiser sounded. Above the dense smoke a flame shot high, with great columns of spray, as the guns suddenly ceased their thunder.
There was a dead stillness, broken only by the wash of the sea.
Then the smoke clearing showed the débris of the Gerzog Edinburskij fast sinking beneath the restless waters. Some splinters precipitated into the air had fallen with loud splashes in every direction, and amid the victorious shouts of the British bluejackets the disabled ship, with its fluttering Russian cross, slowly disappeared for ever, carrying down every soul on board.
The torpedo, striking her amidships, had blown an enormous hole right through her double bottom, and torn her transverse bulkheads away so much that her watertight doors were useless for keeping her afloat, even for a few minutes.
Partially crippled as she was, the Centurion steamed slowly westward, until at noon on the following day she fell in with a division of the Coastguard Squadron, which, acting under the fictitious telegraphic orders of the French spy, had been to Land's End, but which, now the enemy had landed, had received genuine orders from the Admiralty.
Compared with the number and strength of the French and Russian vessels mustered in the Channel, this force was so small as to appear ludicrous. To send this weak defending division against the mighty power of the invaders was sheer madness, and everybody on board knew it. The vessels were weaker in every detail than those of the enemy.
At full speed the British vessels steamed on throughout that day, until at 8 P.M., when about twenty miles south of Selsey Bill, they were joined by forces from the Solent. These consisted of the turret-ship Monarch, the turret-ram Rupert, the barbette-ship Rodney, the belted cruiser Aurora, and the coast defence armour-clads Cyclops and Gorgon, together with a number of torpedo boats. The night was calm, but moonless, and without delay the vessels all continued the voyage up Channel silently, with lights extinguished.
Two hours later the officers noticed that away on the horizon a light suddenly flashed twice and then disappeared.
One of the enemy's ships had signalled the approach of the defenders!
This caused the British Admiral to alter his course slightly, and the vessels steamed along in the direction the light had shown.
In turrets and in broadside batteries there was a deep hush of expectation. Officers and men standing at their quarters scarcely spoke. All felt the fight must be most desperate.
Presently, in the far distance a small patch of light in the sky showed the direction of Brighton, and almost immediately the Admiral signalled to the cruisers Aurora, Galatea, and Narcissus, and the new battleship Hannibal, built under the 1894 programme, to detach themselves with six torpedo boats, and take an easterly course, in order to carry out instructions which he gave. These tactics caused considerable comment.
The orders were to make straight for Eastbourne, and to suddenly attack and destroy any of the hostile transports that were lying there, the object being twofold – firstly, to cut off the enemy's line of retreat, and secondly, to prevent the vessels from being used for the purpose of landing further reinforcements.
Soon after 2 A.M. this gallant little division had, by careful manoeuvring, and assisted by a slight mist which now hung over the sea, rounded Beachy Head without being discovered, and had got outside Pevensey Bay about eight miles from land. Here a number of Russian transports and service steamers were lying, among them being the Samojed and Olaf, Krasnaya Gorka and Vladimir, with two smaller ones – the Dnepr and the Artelscik.
Silently, and without showing any lights, a British torpedo boat sped quickly along to where the dark outline of a ship loomed through the mist, and, having ascertained that it was the Olaf, drew up quickly.
A few minutes elapsed, all being quiet. Then suddenly a bright flash was followed by a fearful explosion, and the bottom of the Tsar's vessel being completely ripped up by the torpedo, she commenced to settle down immediately, before any of those on board could save themselves. The enemy had scarcely recovered from their surprise and confusion when three other loud explosions occurred, and in each case transport vessels were blown up. British torpedo boats, darting hither and thither between the Russian ships, were dealing terrible blows from which no vessel could recover. So active were they, indeed, that within the space of fifteen minutes six transports had been blown up, as well as the first-class torpedo boat Abo. The loss of life was terrible.
Simultaneously with the first explosion, the guns of the Aurora, Galatea, and Narcissus thundered out a terrible salute. The bright search-lights of the Russian