CHAPTER XIII
The Attack on the Mole
"It all depends upon the weather," remarked Lieutenant-CommanderFarnborough. "This is absolutely the best we've had, and our thirdattempt--three for luck."
It was a quarter to five on the afternoon of Monday, the 22nd ofApril. The main force of the vessels operating against Zeebrugge andOstend were on the point of starting from the concentration base,upon their hazardous enterprise.
The composition of the operating craft was of a truly diverse nature.Off the Goodwins came the old _Vindictive_, disguised almost out ofknowledge. Her mainmast was down, the massive spar being fashionedinto a huge "bumpkin" to fend her stem off the masonry of the Mole.On her foremast and above her conning-tower were box-like structurescontaining flame-projecting apparatus, Lewis-guns, and other devicesconjured up by the Great War. Along her sides were large "brows" organgways, together with a formidable array of hawsers and chainsterminating in specially constructed grapnels.
Astern and in tow of her were _Iris_ and _Daffodil_, twoferry-steamers well known to the inhabitants of Liverpool andBirkenhead, and now carrying passengers of a very different sort fromthose to which they were accustomed. Following were the block-ships_Thetis_, _Intrepid_, _Iphigenia_, _Sirius_, and _Brilliant_, thepaddle mine-sweeper _Lingfield_, and five M.-L.'s.
The starboard column was composed of _Warwick_, flying the flag ofVice-admiral Keyes, _Phoebe_, _North Star_, _Trident_, and_Mansfield_, the two latter towing two obsolete submarines of the "C"class. In the port column were destroyers, every vessel towing one ormore coastal motor-boats, while between the columns were about fiftyor sixty M.-L.'s.
M.-L. No. 4452 was told off to operate with the artificialfog-producing craft. It was to be by no means an uninteresting task,for, not only was it fraught with danger, but it required great skilland sound judgment on the part of the small craft concerned toliberate the thick pall of smoke at the opportune moment and exactlyin the required spot.
Both Farnborough and Branscombe had urgently requested permission tobe allowed to take their M.-L. into the harbour to rescue the crewsof the block-ships; but since practically every M.-L. skipper hadmade a similar submission it was obvious that there were to be manydisappointed aspirants to the honour--amongst them the officercommanding M.-L. 4452.
Cautiously the strange medley of naval vessels proceeded. Severalhours of daylight yet remained--a period during which the flotillawas in more danger of submarine attack than during the night. Therewas also the risk of running over an enemy mine-field, for the Huns,anticipating naval operations against their Belgian fortresses, hadbeen known to make lavish use of their mine-laying submarines.Another factor, which subsequently proved to be a very vital one, wasthe position of the buoys. These had been carefully observed byBritish air-craft, and, as far as could be judged, were all in theirpositions on the morning of the 22nd.
Orders had been given to dispense with wireless signals, while theuse of flags as a means of communication was reduced to a minimum.But one signal and its reply were fated to be recorded in the pagesof history.
From the Admiral's ship came the stirring message, a clarion call towhich Englishmen had oft-times rallied before: "St. George forEngland".
Promptly came the forcible and appropriate rejoinder, "And may wegive the Dragon's Tail a jolly good twist".
Guarded by destroyers and M.-L.'s the _Vindictive_ and theblock-ships proceeded, arriving at a certain rendezvous just asdarkness was setting in. Here the principal actors separated, the_Sirius_ and _Brilliant_ making towards Ostend, while the others heldon for Zeebrugge.
"How do you feel, old son?" inquired Lieutenant-Commander Farnboroughof his Sub-lieutenant.
"Can hardly describe it," replied Branscombe. "Almost believe I'vegot cold feet, but I wouldn't be out of the show for anything."
Branscombe's description of his condition was a figure of speech.Actually his throat was hot, his tongue was dry, and he could hardlyspeak a word in reply to his commander. His heart was thumpingheavily, while his pulse was throbbing at a rate that would have madea medical man, unacquainted with the circumstances, look astonished.It was a series of sensations akin to those experienced during thelast five minutes before "Going over the Top".
A few minutes after scheduled time the monitors began theirpreliminary "hate", and almost immediately the German guns replied.It was a preliminary operation only, with a view to distracting theattention of the Huns from the _Vindictive_ and the block-ships.
Both Farnborough and his Sub were consulting their wristlet watchesalmost every fifteen seconds. They wore their watches outside theirthick gloves, for officers and men had to be as fully protected aspossible against the highly-injurious effects of mustard gas.Together with shrapnel helmets and gas-masks the "get-up" was asunlike that of the Royal Navy as could be readily imagined.
At 11.40 to the minute--for everything depended upon the operationsbeing carried out "according to plan"--the coastal motor-boats dashedin towards the low, flat, sandy shore, and proceeded to lay floats onwhich the fog-producing plant was lashed. As the dense black pall ofvapour rose, Fritz opened a heavy fire. Anxious foreboding wastelling upon him. His nerves were very much on edge that night.
Several of the floats were observed to be sunk, while, as ill-luckwould have it, the light wind, hitherto favourable to the enterprise,changed in direction. Nevertheless, the dauntless little craft wentabout their work, nothing but their small size and handiness savingthem from annihilation by the terrifically hot fire maintained by theenemy.
Sixteen minutes later the _Vindictive_, emerging from thesmoke-screen, sighted the head of the Mole, bearing one and a halfcables on the port-bow. Gathering increased way until her engineswere working at full speed, she steered straight for her appointedberthing-place, her guns literally belching fire as she forgedthrough the shell-torn water. It was a gallant sight. Marvellous itwas that the old cruiser was not sent to the bottom, so violent wasthe cannonade directed towards her.
St. George's Day, 1918, was but a minute old when, with the shockpractically absorbed by her massive fenders, the _Vindictive_ struckthe Mole a glancing blow. Although her decks were shambles, she wasnow fairly protected from the German fire by the masonry of the loftybreakwater, but by this time her funnels, upper-works, andflame-projecting huts were riddled.
In the midst of a truly deafening din men dashed from cover to hurlthe grapnels across the parapet of the Mole. At first the attempt wasa failure, for the set of the tide and the scend of the sea causedthe _Vindictive_ first to grind heavily and then swing slightly awayfrom the wall. To add to the difficulty of the storming-party most ofthe "brows" had been shattered by shell-fire. Two only could be runout, and along them literally lurched the seamen and marines. Sweptby machine-gun fire the passage of the storming-party along thosefrail gangways was a heroic one. In cold blood a man would have beenpardoned for hesitating to essay the task. Should any of the men slipand fall--and several of them did--a hideous death awaited thembetween the grinding hull of the ship and the seaweed-covered masonryof the Mole.
Encumbered though they were with Lewis-guns, bombs, ammunition, andexplosive charges, and carrying rifles and bayonets, thestorming-party continued, one after another, to gain the top of theparapet, whence a drop of fully fifteen feet had to be risked beforethey could reach the fairly broad but much obstructed roadway on theinner side of the breakwater.
Meanwhile, not only had the _Vindictive_ put alongside the Molefarther from the mole-head than had been intended, but sheobstinately refused to range alongside. It was the little _Daffodil_that saved the situation. Bows on, and with her engines continuouslygoing ahead, the Liverpool ferry-boat forced her big consort upagainst the Mole, and thus enabled the rest of the storming- anddemolition-party to land.
A few yards ahead of the now secured _Vindictive_ came the _Iris_. Inthe heavy ground-swell she bumped heavily against the hard granite.Most of her scaling-ladders were smashed to matchwood, and those thatremai
ned were almost too insecure to attempt to use. Yet, in spite ofhostile fire and the hazardous means of ascent, men were not wantingto risk and give their lives for King and Country.
One of the first to ascend was Lieutenant Claude Hawkings. For abrief instant he stood upon the parapet, silhouetted against theglare of the star-shells and the flashes of the guns, striving toengage one of the large grapnels flung from the deck of the _Iris_.The next instance he was shot and fell upon the stonework.
Almost simultaneously Lieutenant-Commander G. N. Bradford worked hisway to the top of a derrick used for lifting out a large mole-anchor.From this precarious perch he leapt down, alighting on all fours onthe parapet. Without an instant's delay he was on his feet again andtugging furiously at the anchor to secure it. This he did, and in themoment of success he, too, was shot, his body falling into the waterbetwixt the ship and the Mole.
Unfortunately the mole-anchors refused to obtain a grip. Grinding andbumping, the _Iris_ was unable to land her men. Reluctantly it wasrealized that any further attempt at that spot would mean a needlessloss of life, so the cable was slipped and the little ferry-boat ranalongside the _Vindictive_, where she was able to land the survivorsof her seamen and Royal Marines across the deck of the cruiser.
By this time the storming- and demolition-parties were hard at it,clearing the head of the Mole and making a mess of German personneland material generally. With Lewis-guns and bombs they worked theirway along, destroying wireless stations, clearing out machine-gunnests, and hurling deadly explosive missiles upon the decks of theGerman torpedo-craft lying alongside.
It was by no means a one-sided affair. Caught like rats in a trap theHuns on the seaward end of the Mole put up a plucky and stubbornfight, doubtless relying upon the chance of receiving reinforcementsfrom the shore.
The expected reinforcements never arrived. To enable German troops togain the stone portion of the Mole they must needs cross an iron pierconnecting the stonework with the mainland. Bodies of troops wereactually on the way, when it was noticed that a submarine wasapproaching at a distance of a mile and a half. Lit up by the glareof the star-shells the coming submarine presented a tempting target.Hun 4-inch guns promptly opened fire upon her, but unswervingly thesubmarine held on.
This puzzled Fritz completely. Then it occurred to him that theBritish submarine was out of her course and that, if she carried on,she would run aground and become an easy capture. So orders weregiven to cease fire and to train two search-lights upon the doomedcraft in order to baffle still further her navigating officer.
But C 3 was not out of her course, nor was her lieutenant in commandat all hazy as to his position. The submarine was laden withexplosives in order to demolish the only means of communicationbetween the Mole and the shore. It was deemed a task that entailedthe sacrifice of C 3's officers and men; yet, in the hope that aslight chance of escape offered, the vessel was provided with a motordinghy. From the conning-tower the officers could see the viaductdistinctly, as it stood out against the glare. On it were hundreds ofGerman troops, many dancing and waving their arms with delight at thethought of making an easy capture of the bewildered Englishmen.
Now, at a distance of less than a hundred yards, success looked likebecoming realization. Altering helm slightly C 3 charged the viaductat full speed, hitting it fairly at right angles. The blunt nose ofthe submarine glinted over a horizontal girder, lifting the hullquite two feet out of the water. Still carrying way, C 3 lurchedforward until the base of her conning-tower brought up against themassive iron braces of the pier. There she remained hard and fast,save for the quivering movement imparted by the ground-swell.
Overhead were hundreds of Huns still delirious with glee at theireasy victory; underneath, a handful of cool and resolute Britonsdetermined to do the job thoroughly and efficiently.
C 3 had been fitted with gyro steering-gear, a device similar to thatof the Whitehead torpedo, to enable her to steer automatically forher goal after her crew had abandoned her. But, taking no risks onthat score, Lieutenant Sandford, the officer in command, had resortedto the ordinary methods of steering until the submarine was securelywedged under the viaduct.
Before the actual impact C 3's crew mustered on deck. In that exposedposition they remained within full view of the enemy; yet, confidentthat the submarine's crew would speedily be made prisoners, theGermans forbore to fire.
The order was then given to ignite the fuses. Having made sure thatthe desired explosion would take place, Lieutenant Sandford gave theword for all hands to embark on the skiff.
Then the disconcerting discovery was made that the skiff's propellerhad received damage. The little motor was useless. All that could bedone was to make use of oars in a race against time. It was a hardtussle, with the tide boring against the deeply-laden boat. Unless acertain distance was covered before the explosion took place the menwould share the fate in store for the Huns.
To add to the difficulties the Germans, on finding that the dinghywas leaving the submarine, opened a furious fire with pom-poms,machine-guns, and rifles. It was indeed a mystery how the skiffsurvived the ordeal. Holed many times, her officer in command twicewounded, and several of her crew hit, she struggled manfully againstthe current, her pumps going all the time to keep the inrush of waterunder control.
Yard by yard the little boat drew away from the abandoned C 3. Fritz,wild with rage at being baulked of the capture of the crew, redoubledhis fire, more men and more machine-guns being brought up to harassthe elusive skiff-dinghy.
By dint of strenuous exertions the boat gained a distance of abouttwo hundred yards through the bullet-flecked water when, with atremendous report, the explosive cargo of C 3 detonated.
In an instant the viaduct went up in a cloud of flame-torn smoke,taking with it men, guns, and search-lights. The air was full offalling debris, a great quantity dropping into the water all aroundthe skiff.
There was not the slightest doubt that C 3's work was accomplished,while the chances of her crew surviving their hazardous task rosewith a bound.
In the lull that followed, the men made good use of their oars, andpresently, to their relief, the picquet-boat told off to attempttheir rescue was sighted. Quickly the heroic men were taken off andtransferred to comparative safety on board H.M.T.B.D. _Phoebe_.Meanwhile the demolition-parties on the Mole were hard at work withFritz's little contraptions, while the block-ships were preparing fortheir _magnum opus_ within the gates of the Huns' stronghold.