Chapter XI: Part 11

The gallant Brandelaar must have found a very effective means of persuasion, for in less than ten minutes he was able to inform Edith that Van dem Bosch was ready to risk the journey on the terms offered. He said nothing more about the danger of the undertaking, as if he were afraid of frightening the young Englishwoman from her plan, so profitable to himself. From this moment nothing more was said about the matter. It was not far to the place where the cutter lay at anchor, and Edith struggled on bravely between the two men, who silently walked along by her side, in the face of the hurricane from the north, roaring in fitful gusts from the sea. They rowed across to the vessel in a yawl, and when Brandelaar returned to the quay he had his fifty pounds all right in his pocket.

“If the Herr major asks after me, you may tell him the whole truth with confidence,” Edith had said to him. “And greet him from me--greet him heartily. Don’t forget that, Brandelaar.”

. . . . . . .

The skipper’s two men, who had been lying fast asleep below deck in the cutter, were considerably astonished and certainly far from pleased at the idea of the nocturnal passage. But a few words from the skipper in a language unintelligible to Edith speedily removed their discontent. They now readily set to work to set sail and weigh anchor. The skipper’s powerful hands grasped the helm; the small, strongly-built vessel tacked a little and then, heeling over, shot out into the darkness.

It passed close by the Gefion, and had it by accident been shown up by the electric light which from time to time searched the disturbed surface of the water, the nocturnal trip would in any case have experienced a very disagreeable interruption. But chance favoured the rash undertaking. No signal was made, no shout raised from the guardship, and the lights of Flushing were soon lost in the darkness.

Since the start Edith had been standing by the mast, looking fixedly backwards to the place where she was leaving everything which had hitherto given all its value and meaning to her life. The skipper and his two men, whom the varying winds kept fully occupied with their sails, did not seem to trouble about her, and it was not till a suddenly violent squall came on that Van dem Bosch shouted to her that she had better go below, where she would at least be protected against the wind and weather.

But Edith did not stir. For her mind, racked by all the torments of infinite despair, the raging of the storm, the noise of the rain rattling down, and the hissing splash of the waves as they dashed against the planks of the boat, made just the right music. The tumult of the night around her harmonised so exactly with the tumult within her that she almost felt it a relief. The close confinement of a low cabin would have been unbearable. She could only hold out by drinking in deep draughts of air saturated with the briny odour of the sea, and by exposing her face to the storm, the rain, and the foam of the waves. It was a kind of physical struggle with the brute forces of Nature, and its stirring effect upon her nerves acted as a tonic to a mind lacerated with sorrow.

She had no thought for time or space. Only the hurricane-like rising of the storm, the increasingly violent breaking of the waves, and the wilder rocking of the boat, told her that she must be on the open sea. In spite of her oilskin cape, she was completely wet through, and a chill, which gradually spread over her whole body from below, numbed her limbs. Nevertheless, she never for a moment thought of retiring below. She had no idea of danger. She heard the sailors cursing, and twice the skipper’s voice struck her ears, uttering what seemed to be an imperious command. But she did not trouble herself about this. As if already set free from everything earthly, she remained completely indifferent to everything that was going on around her. The more insensible her body became, paralysed by the penetrating damp and chill, the more indefinite and dreamlike became all the impressions of her senses. She seemed to have lost all foothold, to be flying on the wings of the storm, free from all restrictions of corporeal gravity, through unlimited space. All the rushing, howling, rattling, and splashing of the unchained elements seemed to her to unite in one monotonous, majestic roar, which had no terrors for her, but a wonderfully soothing influence. As her senses slowly failed, the tumult became a lofty harmony; she felt so entirely one with mighty, all-powerful Nature that the last feeling of which she was conscious was a fervent, ardent longing to dissolve in this mighty Nature, like one of the innumerable waves, whose foam wetted her feet in passing.

. . . . . . .

A loud sound, like the sharp report of a gun, was heard above the confusion of noises--a loud crash--some wild curses from rough sailors’ throats! The boat suddenly danced and tossed upon the waves like a piece of cork, while the big sail flapped in the wind as if it would be torn the next minute into a thousand pieces.

The peak-halyard was broken, and the gaff, deprived of its hold, struck with fearful force downwards. With all the might of his arms, strong as those of a giant, the skipper pulled at the helm to bring the vessel to the wind. The two other men worked desperately to make the sail fast.

In these moments of supreme danger none of the three gave a thought to the disguised woman in the oilskin cape, who had stood so long motionless as a statue by the mast. Not till their difficult task was successfully finished did they notice that she had disappeared. They looked at each other with troubled faces. The skipper at the helm said--

“She has gone overboard. The gaff must have hit her on the head. There is no more to be done. Why would she stay on deck?”

He cleared his throat and spat into the sea, after the fashion of sailors.

The other two said nothing. Silently they obeyed the orders of the skipper, who made for the mouth of the Schelde again.

They made no attempt to save her. It would have been a useless task.

XXXI

THE STOLEN DOCUMENT

The last ordinary train to Antwerp had gone long before Heideck reached the station. But a short interview with the railway commissioner sufficed, and an engine was at once placed at the Major’s disposal. When he had mounted to the stoker’s place the station-master saluted and signalled to the driver to start. For a moment Heideck felt a sharp pain in his heart like a knife when the grinding engine started. It was his life’s happiness that he was leaving behind him for ever. A dull, paralysing melancholy possessed his soul. He seemed to himself to be a piece of lifeless mechanism, like the engine puffing ceaselessly onwards, subject and blindly obedient to the will of another. All his actions were decided, no longer by his own resolutions, but by an inexorable, higher law--by the iron law of duty. He was no longer personally free nor personally responsible. The way was marked out for him as clearly and distinctly as the course of the engine by the iron lines of rails. With tightly compressed lips he looked fixedly before him. What lay behind was no longer any concern of his. Only a peremptory “Forward” must henceforth be his watchword.

About six o’clock in the morning he stood before the royal castle on the Place de Meix, where the Prince-Admiral had fixed his quarters, King Leopold having offered him the castle to reside in.

In spite of the early hour Heideck was at once conducted to the Prince’s study.

“Your Royal Highness,” said Heideck, “I have a report of the utmost importance to make. These orders of the English Admiralty have fallen into my hands.”

The Prince motioned him to a seat by his desk. “Be good enough to read the orders to me, Herr major.”

Heideck read the important document, which ran as follows:--

“The Lords of the Admiralty think it desirable to attack the German fleet first, as being the weaker. This attack must be carried out before the Russian fleet is in a position to go to its assistance in Kiel harbour. Therefore a simultaneous attack should be made on the two positions of the German fleet on the 15th of July.”

“On the 15th of July?” repeated the Prince, who had risen in great excitement. “And it is the 11th to-day! How did you get possession of these orders, Herr major? What proof have you that this document is genuine?”

“I have the most convincing reasons for believing it genuine, your Royal Highness. You can see for yourself that the orders are written on the blue stamped paper of the English Admiralty.”

“Very well, Herr major! But that would not exclude the idea of a forgery. How did you come into possession of this paper?”

“Your Royal Highness will excuse my entering into an explanation.”

“Then read on.”

Heideck continued--

“On the day mentioned the Copenhagen fleet has to attack Kiel harbour. Two battleships will take up a position before the fortress of Friedrichsort and Fort Falkenstein on the west side, two more before the fortifications of Labo and Moltenort on the east side of Kiel inlet; they will keep up so hot a fire on the fortifications that the rest of the fleet will be able to enter the harbour behind them under their protection.

“In the harbour of Kiel there are about a hundred transports and some older ironclads and cruisers, which cannot offer a serious resistance to our fleet. All these ships must be attacked with the greatest rapidity and vigour. It is of the utmost importance to send a battleship to the entrance of the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal, in order to cut off the retreat of the German ships. All the German ships in the harbour are to be destroyed. The attack is to be commenced by some cruisers from the rest of the fleet, which will enter the inlet in advance, without any consideration of the chance of their being blown up by mines. These vessels are to be sacrificed, if necessary, in order to set the entrance free.

“For the attack on the German fleet in the Schelde, which must also take place on the 15th of July, Vice-Admiral Domvile will form a fleet of two divisions from the Channel squadrons and the cruiser fleet.

“The first division will be formed of the following battleships: Bulwark (Vice-Admiral Domvile’s flagship), Albemarle, Duncan, Montagu, Formidable, Renown, Irresistible, and Hannibal.

“The cruisers Bacchante (Rear-Admiral Walker), Gladiator, Naiad, Hermione, Minerva, Rainbow, Pegasus, Pandora, Abukir, Vindictive, and Diana.

“The destroyers Dragon, Griffin, Panther, Locust, Boxer, Mallard, Coquette, Cygnet, and Zephyr.

“Two torpedo flotillas.

“Two ammunition ships, two colliers, and a hospital ship are to be allotted to the division.

“The second division will be formed of the following battleships: Majestic (Vice-Admiral Lord Beresford), Magnificent (Rear-Admiral Lambton), Cornwallis, Exmouth, Russell, Mars, Prince George, Victorious, and Caesar.

“The cruisers St. George (Captain Winsloe), Sutlej, Niobe, Brilliant, Doris, Furious, Pactolus, Prometheus, Juno, Pyramus, and Pioneer.

“The destroyers Myrmidon, Chamois, Flying Fish, Kangaroo, Desperate, Fawn, Ardent, Ariel, and Albatross.

“Two torpedo flotillas.

“Two ammunition ships, two colliers, and a hospital ship are to be alloted to the division.

“A squadron under Commodore Prince Louis of Battenberg (flagship, Implacable) will remain in reserve to watch for the possible approach of a French fleet. In case one is seen, the first division is to unite with this reserve squadron under the supreme command of Vice-Admiral Domvile, and to attack the French fleet vigorously, it being left to the second division to give battle to the German fleet. The general orders given to the fleet for the attack will then only apply to the second division. His Majesty’s Government expects that the division will be able to defeat the enemy, even without the help of the first division. As soon as the scouts of the second division have driven the German guardships from the mouth of the West Schelde, the left wing of the fighting ships will open fire on Flushing, the right on the land fortifications of the south bank. The wings are not to stop, but to advance with the rest of the fleet, and the entire division will press on to Antwerp or until it meets the German fighting fleet, which must be attacked with the greatest vigour.

“The precise details of the manner of attack are left to Vice-Admiral Domvile.

“If, contrary to expectation, the German fleet, at the beginning of the attack in the mouth of the Schelde, should decide upon an advance, the admiral commanding must act upon his own judgment, according to circumstances; but, above all, it should be remembered that it is of more importance to capture as many German ships as possible than to destroy them, so that the captured ships may be used by us during the further course of the war.”

The Prince-Admiral had listened in silence while Heideck was reading. The excitement which what he had heard had caused him was plainly reflected in his features.

“There seems a strong internal probability that these orders are genuine,” he said thoughtfully; “but I should like to have further and more positive proof of it; for it is quite possible that it is intentionally designed to mislead us. Where does this document come from, Herr major?”

“I have already most humbly reported to your Royal Highness that I have induced the skipper Brandelaar, whom I arrested as an English spy, to act for the future in our interest. Brandelaar’s boat brought this order.”

“Where is this man?”

“His boat lies in Flushing harbour.”

“And how did Brandelaar get possession of it?”

“I did not get it from Brandelaar himself, but from a lady, an Englishwoman, who crossed with him from Dover. My honour imposes silence upon me. I must not mention this lady’s name, but I am firmly convinced and believe that I can guarantee that the document in Admiral Hollway’s office has been copied word for word.”

“We can soon find means of convincing ourselves whether the British fleet is preparing to carry out these orders. Then at last the time for energetic action would have arrived. His Majesty has foreseen some such advance on the part of the British fleet, and we have now to carry out the plan of the supreme commander. I thank you, Herr major!”

Heideck bowed and turned to go. He felt that he could endure it no longer, and it was only with an effort that he maintained his erect, military bearing.

When he reached the threshold, the Prince turned to him again, and said, “I think I shall be doing you an honour, Herr major, if I give you the opportunity of witnessing, by my side, the events of that great and glorious day in the life of our youthful fleet. Report yourself to me on the morning of the 15th of July on board my flagship. I will see that your present post is provided for.”

“Your Royal Highness is very gracious.”

“You have a claim on my thanks. Au revoir, then, Herr major.”

The Prince immediately summoned the adjutant on duty, and ordered him to have several copies of the English naval plan of attack prepared at once.

One of these was intended for the admiral in command of the French fleet at Cherbourg. The Prince gave the imperial messenger, who was to convey the document to him, an autograph letter in which he urged upon the admiral to do his utmost to reach Flushing on the morning of the 15th with as strong a fighting fleet as possible, so as to assist the German fleet in its engagement with the numerically superior fleet of the English.

XXXII

NEWS OF AN OLD FRIEND

“Dear Friend and Comrade,--Although it is still painful for me to write, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of being the first to congratulate you on receiving the Order of St. Vladimir. A friend in the War Office has just informed me that the announcement has appeared in the Gazette. I hope that this decoration, which you so fully earned by your services at the occupation of Simla, will cause you some satisfaction. You are aware that the Vladimir can only be bestowed on Russians or foreigners in the service of Russia, and thus you will be one of the few German officers whose breast is adorned with this mark of distinction so highly prized in this country.

“You will be surprised that my congratulations are sent from St. Petersburg; no doubt you thought of me as still in sunny India, the theatre of our mutual adventures in the war. I should certainly have remained there till the end of the campaign, had not an English bullet temporarily put an end to my military activity--all too soon for my ambition, as you can imagine. Uninjured in two great battles and a number of trifling skirmishes, I was unhappily destined to be incapacitated in quite an unimportant and inglorious encounter. Had I not been saved by an heroic woman, you would have heard no more of your old friend Tchajawadse, except that he was one of those who had remained on the field of honour.

“Can you guess the name of this woman, comrade? I do not think you can have entirely forgotten my supposed page Georgi, and I am telling you nothing new to-day in lifting the veil of the secrecy, with which for obvious reasons I was obliged to shroud his relations to me in India. Georgi was a girl, and for years she has been dearer to me than anyone else. She was of humble birth, and possessed little of what we call culture. But, nevertheless, she was to me the dearest creature that I have ever met on my wanderings through two continents; a wonderful compound of savagery and goodness of heart, of ungovernable pride and unselfish, devoted affection--a child and a heroine. She had given herself to me, and followed me on my journeys from pure inclination, not for the sake of any advantage. It had been her own wish to play the part of a servant. I do not, however, mean to say that she never made use of the power she possessed over me, for she was proud, and knew how to govern.

“Once, at the beginning of our Indian journey, extremely irritated by her obstinate pride, I raised my hand against her. One look from her brought me to my senses before the punishment followed. Afterwards, when my blood had long cooled, she said to me, her eyes still blazing with anger, ‘If you had really struck me I should have left you at once, and no entreaties would ever have induced me to return to you.’ I laughed at her words, but from that time exercised more control over myself. We lived in perfect harmony till the day when Georgi saved your life in Lahore, my valued comrade. It was she who brought me the terrible news that you were being led away to death. I had never seen the girl so fearfully excited before. Her eyes glistened and her whole frame trembled. It seemed as if she would have driven me forward with the lash, that I might not be too late. I myself was too anxious to worry my head much about the girl’s singular excitement. But after you were happily saved, when you were concealed in my tent, and I looked for Georgi to tell her of the result of my intervention, she fell into such a paroxysm of joy that my jealous suspicions were aroused. Carried away by excitement I flung an insult at her, and then, when she answered me defiantly--to her misfortune and mine I had my riding-whip in my hand--I committed a hateful act, which I would rather have recalled than any of my other numerous follies. She received the blow in silence. The next moment she had disappeared, and I waited in vain for her return. Till we left Simla I had her searched for everywhere, but no trace of her could be found. I myself then gave her up for lost. After our return to Lahore, when we were marching on to Delhi, I occasionally heard of a girl wearing Indian dress who had appeared in the neighbourhood of our troop and resembled my lost page Georgi. But as soon as I made inquiries after this girl it seemed as if the earth had swallowed her up, and under the rapidly changing impressions of the war her image gradually faded from my mind.

“During a reconnaissance near Lucknow, which I had undertaken with my regimental staff and a small escort, my own carelessness led us into an ambuscade set by the English, which cost most of my companions their lives. At the beginning of the encounter a shot in the back had unhorsed me. I was taken for dead, and those few of my companions who were able to save themselves by flight had no time to take the fallen with them. After lying for a long time unconscious, I saw, on awaking, a number of armed Indians plundering the dead and wounded. One of the brown devils approached me. When he saw me lifting myself up to grasp my revolver, he rushed upon me brandishing his sword. I parried the first thrust at my head with my right arm. Defenceless as I was, I was already prepared for the worst. But at the moment, when the rascal was lifting up his arm for another thrust, he reeled backwards and collapsed without uttering a sound. It was Georgi, who had saved my life by a well-directed shot.

“She had accompanied the dragoons sent from our camp to recover the dead and wounded, and had got considerably in advance of the horsemen. Hence it had been possible for her to save me.

“I was too weak to ask her many questions, and my memory is a blank as to the few moments of this meeting.

“For a week I lay between life and death. Then my iron constitution triumphed. You can imagine, my dearest friend, how great my desire was to see Georgi again. But she was no longer in the camp, and no one could tell me where she was. She disappeared again as suddenly as she had appeared on that day. This time I must make up my mind to the conviction that I have lost her for ever. While on my sick bed I received a command to repair to St. Petersburg. At the same time I was highly flattered to learn that I had been promoted, and as soon as my condition permitted it, I started on my journey.

“Pardon me, dear friend, for lingering so long over a personal matter, which, after all, can have very little interest for you.

“You are as well informed as myself of the manifold changes of this war, which has already destroyed the value of untold millions, and has cost hundreds of thousands of promising human lives. I could almost envy you for being still spared to be an eyewitness of the great events, while I am condemned to the role of an inactive spectator. But I do not believe the struggle will last much longer. The sacrifices which it imposes on the people are too great to be endured many months longer. Everything is pressing to a speedy and decisive result, and I have no doubt what that result will be. For although the defeats and losses sustained by the English are partly compensated by occasional successes, one great naval victory of the allies would finally decide the issue against Great Britain. Hitherto, both sides have hesitated to bring about this decisive result, but all here are convinced that the next few weeks will at last bring those great events on the water, so long and so eagerly expected.

“To my surprise, I see that our treaty of peace with Japan is still the subject of hostile criticism in the foreign Press. Certainly, in the second phase of the campaign, the fortune of war had turned in our favour, but the struggle for India was so important for Russia that she was unwilling to divide her forces any longer. Hence we were able to build a golden bridge for Japan, and hence the peace of Nagasaki. The German Imperial Chancellor is highly popular in Russia also, owing to the part he took in the conclusion of the peace.

“Have you had the opportunity of approaching the Imperial Chancellor? This Baron Grubenhagen must be a man of strong personality.

“I am sending this letter to you by way of Berlin, for I do not know where you are at this moment. I hope it will reach you, and that you will occasionally find time to gladden your old friend Tchajawadse by letting him know that you are still alive.”

Heideck had glanced rapidly through the Prince’s letter, written in French, which he had found waiting for him after his return from Antwerp. Not even the news of the honourable distinction conferred by the bestowal of the Russian order had been able to evoke a sign of joy on his grave countenance. The amiable Russian Prince and his beautiful page were to him like figures belonging to a remote past, that lay an endless distance behind him. The events of the last twenty-four hours had shaken him so violently that what might perhaps a few days before have aroused his keenest interest now seemed a matter of indifference and no concern of his.

At this moment the orderly announced a man in sailor’s dress, and Heideck knew that it could only be Brandelaar. The skipper had already given the information which he had brought from Dover to the officer on duty who had taken Heideck’s place. If they were not exactly military secrets which by that means became known to the German military authorities, some items of the various information might prove of importance as affecting the Prince-Admiral’s arrangements.

Heideck assumed that Brandelaar had now come for his promised reward. But as the skipper, after receiving the money, kept turning his hat between his fingers, like a man who does not like to perform a painful errand or make a disagreeable request, Heideck asked in astonishment: “Have you anything else to say to me, Brandelaar?”

Only after considerable hesitation he replied, “Yes, Herr major, I was to bring you a greeting--you will know who sent it.”

“I think I can guess. You have seen the lady again since yesterday evening?”

“The lady came to me last night at the inn and demanded to be taken back to Dover at once. But I thought you would not like it.”

“So then you refused?”

Brandelaar continued to stare in front of him at the floor.

“The lady would go--in spite of the bad weather. And she would not be satisfied till I had persuaded my friend Van dem Bosch to take her in his cutter to Dover?”

“This was last night?”

“Yes--last night.”

“And what more?” persisted Heideck.

“He came back at noon to-day. They had a misfortune on the way.”

Heideck’s frame shook convulsively. A fearful suspicion occurred to him. He needed all his strength of will to control himself.

“And the lady?”

“Herr major, it was the lady who met with an accident. She fell overboard on the journey.”

Heideck clasped the back of the chair before him with both hands. Every drop of blood had left his face.

“Fell--overboard? Good God, man--and she was not saved?”

Brandelaar shook his hand.

“No, Herr major! She would stay on deck in spite of the storm, though Van dem Bosch kept asking her to go below. When a violent squall broke the halyard, she was knocked overboard by the gaff. As the sea was running high, there was no chance of saving her.”

Heideck had covered his face with his hand. A dull groan burst from his violently heaving breast and a voice within him exclaimed--

“The guilt is yours. She sought death of her own accord, and it was you who drove her to it!”

His voice sounded dry and harsh when he turned to the skipper and said--

“I thank you for your information, Brandelaar. Now leave me alone.”

XXXIII

THE LANDING IN SCOTLAND

The ninth and tenth army corps had collected at the inlet of Kid harbour. The town of Kiel and its environs resounded with the clattering of arms, the stamping of horses and the joyful songs of the soldiers, who, full of hope, were expecting great and decisive events. But no one knew anything for certain about the object of the impending expedition.

From the early hours of the morning of the 13th of July an almost endless stream of men, horses, and guns poured over the landing-bridges, which connected the giant steamers of the shipping companies with the harbour quays. Other divisions of troops were taken on board in boats, and on the evening of the 14th the whole field army, consisting of 60,000 men, was embarked.

Last of all, the general commanding, accompanied by the Imperial Chancellor, proceeded in a launch on board the large cruiser Konig Wilhelm, which lay at anchor in the Bay of Holtenall. Immediately afterwards, three rockets, mounting brightly against the dark sky, went up from the flagship. At this signal, the whole squadron started slowly in the direction of the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal.

The transport fleet consisted of about sixty large steamers, belonging to the North-German Lloyd, the Hamburg-America, and the Stettin companies. They were protected by the battleships Baden, Wurttemberg, Bayern, and Sachsen, the large cruisers Kaiser and Deutschland, the small cruisers Gazelle, Prinzess Wilhelm, Irene, Komet, and Meteor, and the torpedo divisions D 5 and D 6, accompanied by their torpedo-boat divisions.

The last torpedo-boat had long left the harbour, when, about eleven o’clock in the forenoon of the 15th of July, the dull thunder of the English ironclads resounded before the fortifications of the inlet of Kiel, answered by the guns of the German fortress.

Bright sunshine was breaking through the light clouds when the Konig Wilhelm entered the Elbe at Brunsbuttel. The boats of the torpedo division, hastening forward, reported the mouth of the river free from English warships, and a wireless message was received from Heligoland in confirmation of this.

The squadron proceeded at full speed to the north-west. The torpedo division D 5 reconnoitred in advance, the small, swift boats being followed by the cruisers Prinzess Wilhelm and Irene, which from their high rigging were especially adapted for scouting operations and carried the necessary apparatus for wireless telegraphy. The rest of the fleet, whose speed had to be regulated by that of the Konig Wilhelm, followed at the prescribed intervals.

When the sharp outlines of the red cliffs of Heligoland appeared, the German cruiser Seeadler came from the island to meet the squadron and reported that the coast ironclads Aegir and Odin, the cruisers Hansa, Vineta, Freya, and Hertha, together with the torpedo-boats, had set out from Wilhelmshaven during the night and had seen nothing of the enemy. The sea appeared free. All the available English warships of the North Sea squadron had advanced to attack Antwerp.

Since the transport fleet did not appear to need reinforcements, it proceeded on its way west-north-west with its attendant warships, the Wilhelmshaven fleet remaining at Heligoland.

What was its destination?

Only a few among the many thousands could have given an answer, and they remained silent. The red cliffs of Heligoland had long since disappeared in the distance. Hours passed, but nothing met the eyes of the eagerly gazing warriors, save the boundless, gently rippling sea and the crystal-clear blue vault of heaven, stretched above it like a huge bell.

“What is our destination?”

It could not be the coast of England, which would have been reached long ago. But where was the landing to take place, if not there? To what distant shore was the German army being taken, the largest whose destinies had ever been entrusted to the treacherous waves of the sea?

When daylight again brought a report from the scouts that the enemy’s ships were nowhere to be seen, the Commander-in-Chief of the army could not help expressing his surprise to the Admiral that the English had apparently entirely neglected scouting in the North Sea, and further, that they did not even see any merchant vessels.

“The explanation of this apparently surprising fact is not very remote, Your Excellency,” replied the Admiral. “We should hardly sight any merchantmen, since maritime trade is now almost entirely at a standstill, owing to the insecurity of the seas. We have not met a flotilla of fishing-boats, since in this part of the North Sea there are no fishing-grounds. We see none of the enemy’s ships, since the English have most likely calculated every other possibility except our attempting to land in Scotland.”

“Your explanation is obvious, Herr Admiral; nevertheless, it seems to me that our enemy must have neglected to take the necessary precautions in keeping a look-out.”

“Your Excellency must not draw an offhand comparison between operations on land and on sea. The conditions in the latter are essentially different. I do not doubt for a moment that there is a sufficient number of English scouts in the North Sea; if we have really escaped their notice, the fortune of war has been favourable to us. I may tell Your Excellency that, even during our manoeuvres in the Baltic, where we know the course as well as the speed and strength of the marked enemy, he has sometimes succeeded in making his way through, unseen by our scouts. Perhaps this will mitigate your judgment of this apparent want of foresight on the part of the English.”

At last, on the evening of the 16th of July, land was reported by the Konig Wilhelm. The end of the journey was in sight, and the news spread rapidly that it was the coast of Scotland rising from the waves.

“We are going to enter the Firth of Forth,” was the general opinion. Even the brave soldiers, who perhaps heard the name for the first time in their lives, repeated the word with as important an air as if all the secrets of the military staff had been all at once revealed to them.

In the red light of the setting sun both shores appeared tinged with violet from the deep-blue sky and the grey-blue sea, the north shore being further off than the south. Favoured by a calm sea, the squadron, extended in close order to a distance of about five knots, made for the entrance of the Firth of Forth.

Full of expectation, the expeditionary army saw the vast, bold undertaking develop before its eyes. For nine hundred years no hostile army had landed on the coast of England. Certainly, in ancient times Britain had had to fight against invading enemies: Julius Caesar had entered as a conqueror, Canute the Great, King of Denmark, had subdued the country. The Angles and Saxons had come over from Germany, to make themselves masters of the land. Harold the Fairhaired, King of Norway, had landed in England. But since the time of William of Normandy, who defeated the Saxons at Hastings and set up the rule of the Normans in England, not even her most powerful enemies, neither Philip of Spain nor the great Napoleon, had succeeded in landing their troops on the sea-girt soil of England.

Would a German army now succeed?

The outlines of the country became clearer and clearer; some even believed they could see the lofty height of Edinburgh Castle on the horizon. But soon the distant view was obscured and darkness slowly came on.

Hitherto not a single hostile ship had been seen. But now, when the greater part of the squadron had already entered the bay, the searchlights discovered two English cruisers whose presence had already been reported by the advance boats of the torpedo division.

In view of our great superiority, these cruisers declined battle, and by hauling down their flag, signified their readiness to surrender. From the sea, nothing remained to hinder the landing of the troops. The transports approached the south shore of the bay, on which Edinburgh and the harbour town of Leith are situated; and, after casting anchor, landed the troops in boats by the electric light. The infantry immediately occupied the positions favourable to meet any attack that might be made. But nothing happened to prevent the landing. The Scottish population remained perfectly calm, so that the disembarkation was completed without disturbance.

The population of Leith and the inhabitants of Edinburgh, who had hurried up full of curiosity, beheld, to their boundless astonishment, a spectacle almost incomprehensible to them, carried out with admirable precision under the bright electric light from the German ships.

The people had taken the keenest interest in the great war of England against the allied Powers--Germany, France, and Russia--but with a feeling that it was a matter which chiefly concerned the Government, the Army, and the Navy. They were painfully aware that things were going worse and worse for them, but were convinced that the Government would soon overthrow the enemy. Everyone knew that the Russians had penetrated into India, but the great mass of the people did not trouble about that. It could only be a passing misfortune, and trade, which was at present ruined, would soon revive and be all the more flourishing. But the idea that an enemy, a continental army, could land on the coast of Great Britain, that German or French soldiers could ever set foot on British soil, had seemed to Scotsmen so remote a contingency that they now appeared completely overcome by the logic of accomplished facts.

About noon on the following day the two army corps were already south of Leith. A brigade had been pushed forward towards the south; the rest of the troops had bivouacked, that the men might recuperate after their two days’ sea journey.

The quartermasters had purchased provisions for ready money in the town, the villages, and the scattered farmhouses. The warships filled their bunkers from the abundant stock of English coal, guardships being detached to ensure the safety of the squadron. The Admiral had ordered that, after coaling, the warships should take up a position at the entrance to the bay, the transports remaining in the harbour. In the possible event of the appearance of a superior English squadron the whole fleet was to leave the Firth of Forth as rapidly as possible and disperse in all directions. Certainly in that case the army would be deprived of the means of returning, but the military authorities were convinced that the appearance of an army of 60,000 German troops on British soil would practically mean the end of the war, especially as an equally strong French corps was to land in the south. The military authorities consequently thought they need not trouble themselves further about the possibility of the troops having to return.

The garrison of Edinburgh had surrendered without resistance, since it would have been far too weak to offer any opposition to the invading army. Accordingly the German officers and soldiers could move about in the town without hindrance. A number of despatches and fresh war bulletins were found which threw some light upon the strategic position, although they were partly obscure, and partly contained obvious falsehoods.

A great naval battle was said to have taken place off Flushing on the 15th of July, ending in the retreat of the German and French fleets with heavy losses. It was further reported that the British fleet had destroyed Flushing and bombarded several of the Antwerp forts. Lastly, according to the newspapers, the English fleet which had been stationed before Copenhagen had entered Kid harbour and captured all the German ships inside, the loss of the English battleships at the Kieler Fohrde being admitted. The German officers were convinced that only the report of the loss of the two battleships deserved credit, since the English would hardly have invented such bad news. Everything else, from the position of things, bore the stamp of improbability on the face of it.

The trumpets blew, the soldiers grasped their arms, the battalions began their march. The batteries clattered along with a dull rumble. In four columns, by four routes, side by side the four divisions started for the south.

XXXIV

THE BATTLE OF FLUSHING

The strategy of red tape, by which the Commander-in-Chief’s hands were tied, was destined, as in so many previous campaigns, to prove on this occasion also a fatal error to the English.

Sir Percy Domvile, the British admiral, had received with silent rage the order of battle communicated to him from London--the same order that had fallen into the hands of the Germans. More than once already he had attempted to show the Lords of the Admiralty what injury might be caused by being tied to strict written orders in situations that could not be foreseen. He now held in his own hands the proof how little the officials, pervaded by the consciousness of their own importance and superior wisdom, were disposed to allow themselves to be taught. But he was too much of a service-man not to acquiesce in the orders of the supreme court with unquestioning obedience. Certainly, if he had been able to gauge in advance the far-reaching consequences of the mistake already committed, he would probably, as a patriot, rather have sacrificed himself than become the instrument for carrying out the fundamentally erroneous tactics of the plan of battle communicated to him. For more was now at stake than the proud British nation had ever risked before in a naval engagement. It was a question of England’s prestige as the greatest naval power in the world, perhaps of the final issue of this campaign which had been so disastrous for Great Britain. All-powerful Albion, the dreaded mistress of the seas, was now fighting for honour and existence. A great battle lost might easily mean a blow from which the British lion, wounded to death, would never be able to recover.

. . . . . . .

At the time when the Konig Wilhelm entered the Kaiser Wilhelm Canal at the head of the German transport fleet, the Prince-Admiral, who had hoisted his flag on the Wittelsbach, led the fighting fleet from the harbour of Antwerp into the Zuid Bevelanden Canal, which connects the East and West Schelde, and separates the island of Walcheren from Zuid Bevelanden. Anchor was then cast.

His squadron consisted of the battleships of the Wittelsbach class--Mecklenburg, Schwaben, Zahringen, Wettin, and Wittelsbach (the flagship of the Prince-Admiral), and the battleships of the Kaiser class--Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, Barbarossa, Karl der Grosse, Wilhelm II., and Friedrich III.

These ironclads were accompanied by the large cruisers Friedrich Karl, Prinz Adalbert, Prinz Heinrich, Furst Bismarck, Viktoria Luise, Kaiserin Augusta, and the small cruisers Berlin, Hamburg, Bremen, Undine, Arcona, Frauenlob, and Medusa.

The torpedo flotilla at the Prince’s disposal consisted of the torpedo-boats S 102 to 107, G 108 to 113, S 114 to 125, with the division boats D 10, D 9, D 7, and D 8, built on the scale of destroyers.

The three fast cruisers Friedrich Karl, Prinz Adalbert and Kaiserin Augusta, with the torpedo-boats S 114 to 120, had been sent on as scouts, to announce the approach of the enemy in good time. The cruisers had been ordered to post themselves thirty knots west-north-west of Flushing at intervals of five knots, while the torpedo-boats patrolled on all sides to keep a look-out. After having reported the approach of the English fleet to the main squadron by wireless telegraphy, the scouts were to retire before the enemy out of range into the West Schelde, and at the same time to keep up such a fire in their boilers that the clouds of thick smoke might deceive the enemy as to the size and number of the retiring ships. When out of sight of the English, they were to wheel round and show themselves, and, if circumstances permitted, take up the positions previously assigned them; otherwise they were to act according to circumstances.

The object of this manoeuvre, calculated to mislead the enemy, was completely attained.

A signal informed the Prince-Admiral that the English were in sight, and a torpedo-boat detached from the scouting squadron brought more exact information as to the number and formation of the enemy’s ships--information which exactly corresponded with the instructions given in the order of battle, and was a fresh proof that it was intended to adhere to them.

This provided a sure foundation for the tactical operations of the German fleet. No alteration was necessary in the course of action decided upon at the council of war on the previous day, and no fresh instructions had to be issued to individual commanders.

The order of battle settled at this council of war ran, in the main, as follows:--

“The squadron will lie at anchor off Zuid-Beveland, fires banked, so that they can get up steam in a quarter of an hour. The battleships will anchor in double line, according to their tactical numbers. The cruisers between Nord-Beveland and Zuid-Beveland. The torpedo-boats with their division boats behind.

“At the signal ‘weigh anchor’ the ships carry out the order according to their tactical number; the battleships through the Roompot; the cruisers will re-enter the West Schelde through the canal and lie off Flushing athwart.

“The two other torpedo-boat divisions will accompany the squadron.”

The course of events developed exactly in accordance with these dispositions.

When the approach of the enemy’s ships was announced, the Prince-Admiral’s flaghip signalled: “Weigh anchor! hoist top pennants! clear for action! follow in the Admiral’s wake! cruiser division and torpedo-boats execute orders!”

Keeping close under the coast of Walcheren, the German squadron, full steam up, advanced to meet the enemy.

Meanwhile the approaching English, having left their hospital and munition ships and colliers in the open under the protection of the cruisers and taken up their appointed positions, opened fire at a distance of about 6,000 yards on Flushing and Fort Frederik Hendrik.

The English Admiral adhered so strictly to his instructions that, with an incomprehensible carelessness, he neglected to search the East Schelde with his second squadron, or even with his scouts. The entry of the German ships which had been sent back from the open into the West Schelde, evidently appeared to Sir Percy Domvile a sufficient confirmation of the assumption that the whole German fleet was in this arm of the river’s mouth, for the clouds of smoke which they emitted rendered an accurate computation of their strength impossible.

Thus, the Prince-Admiral’s squadron was enabled to approach the enemy so far unobserved that it would be able to take the British fleet in the flank, when it had reached the west point of Walcheren.

At the signal: “Full steam ahead!” the German ships in the formation agreed steamed against the surprised English, and opened fire from their bow-guns. Naturally, the English Admiral at once ordered the first squadron to take up its position behind the second, turned left with both, and went to meet the enemy in double line.

This was the opportune moment, foreseen in the Prince’s plan of battle, for the advance of the cruisers lying in the West Schelde. In order to deceive the enemy as to their number, they rapidly approached, accompanied by the torpedo-boats which again sent up their clouds of smoke. The English Admiral, completely surprised by the double attack, was obliged to divide his attention.

Certainly this torpedo attack was still a hazardous undertaking, under existing conditions. The English shot well, and two German boats were sunk by the enemy’s shells. Three others, however, hit their mark, damaging three of the English ships so severely that they were incapable of manoeuvring.

It was especially disadvantageous to the English that their torpedo-boats, owing to the unforeseen change in the formation of the battleships, were deprived of the necessary protection. The German destroyers were not slow to make full use of this favourable situation, and began to chase them. In this engagement, which the speed of the little vessels rendered especially exciting for those who took part in it, the pursuers succeeded in destroying four English torpedo-boats without themselves suffering any damage worth mentioning. The others escaped, and, for the time, might be regarded as out of action.

The enemy having altered his front, the Prince-Admiral had turned right about, so that he might enter into action with all the guns of one side. The English Admiral also doubled, but the manoeuvre proved the cause of a fatal misfortune. Whether the disturbance of the tactical unity by the loss of the three torpedoed vessels was the cause of it, or whether the first and second divisions were unaccustomed to manoeuvre together, the Formidable carried out orders so clumsily, that she was rammed amidships by her neighbour the Renown, and immediately heeled over and sunk in a few minutes, carrying hundreds of brave English sailors with her into the deep.

The Renown herself, whose ram had caused the fearful disaster, had not escaped without severe injury in the collision, which had shattered the mighty floating fortress in all its joints. The two first fore compartments, as the bulkheads did not hold together, had filled with water. This caused the vessel to heel over; her value as a fighting instrument was thereby sensibly diminished.

Thus the first great catastrophe in the battle was caused, not by the power of the enemy, but by the clumsy manoeuvring of a friendly ship. This naturally caused many of the spectators, deeply affected by the sinking of the magnificent vessel and her gallant crew, to ask themselves whether the great perfection attained in the construction of modern ships of war was not to a great extent counterbalanced by the defects that were combined with the increasing size and fighting strength of these gigantic ironclads. No ship of the line, no frigate, not even the little gunboat of earlier times could have disappeared from the line of battle so speedily and without leaving a trace behind as the Formidable, built of mighty dimensions and equipped with all the appliances of naval technique. No doubt her armour-plate and steel turrets would have been able successfully to resist a hail of the heaviest projectiles, but a misunderstood steering order had been sufficient to send her to the bottom. Neither the double bottoms nor the division of the bulkheads, which should have prevented the inrush of an excessive amount of water, had been able to avert the fate which threatens every modern ironclad when severely damaged below the water-line. The wooden ship of former times might have been riddled like a sieve without sinking. But the stability of a modern ironclad could be endangered by a single leak, whether caused by a torpedo or a ram, to such an extent that the gigantic mass of iron would be drawn down into the depths by its own weight in a few minutes.

A running fire now went on at a distance of about 2,000 yards, in which the superiority of the Krupp guns was as clearly manifested as the admirable training of the German artillerists, in which the English were far inferior. Certainly, the German ships also suffered various injuries, but no serious damage had as yet occurred.

The three torpedoed and helpless English warships offered especially favourable targets to the German cruisers. The latter, taking up positions at a suitable distance, kept up such a heavy fire upon the vessels, which could scarcely move, that their surrender was inevitable. But before deciding on this, the English offered an heroic resistance, and many of their shots took effect. The conning tower of the Friedrich Karl was pierced by a shell, and the brave commander with those around him found a glorious soldier’s death. Other more or less serious injuries were sustained, and it was almost a miracle that no vital damage was done to any part of the ships’ hulls.

After the three English ships had been put out of action, it was unnecessary for the cruiser division to remain any longer in this quarter of the scene of action. They accordingly proceeded with the utmost despatch to where the Prince-Admiral was engaged in the main fight with the battleships. Here, indeed, assistance was needed. For, although four of the enemy’s ships were lost, the superiority in numbers still remained with the English, especially as the Mecklenburg had been obliged to sheer off, her steering gear having been shot to pieces.

When the English Admiral saw the cruisers approaching, so that they could bring all their bow-guns to bear at once, he recognised that the decisive moment was at hand.

The cruisers’ guns inflicted severe damage on the English, for the crews had practised shooting rapidly at a gradually diminishing distance. The high deck structures of the battleships offered an admirable target, so that in the extended English line of battle nearly every shot took effect.