“Oh good!”
Captain Smallwood explained that it was impossible to predict exactly what course the battle would follow, but the Navy would be expected to surmount minor difficulties.
“The spirit of Nelson is what counts, gentlemen!”
“Hurrah for the Little Admiral!”
“Well said, Mr Parrett! Don’t do it again.”
“Sorry, sir.”
The seas off Heligoland were shrouded in fog.
“Apparently it’s not uncommon in the mornings at this time of year, sir.”
“Thank you for telling me that, Mr Dacres.”
The flotilla continued to make full speed.
“What’s that on the starboard bow?”
“A ship, sir.”
“I could see that for my bloody self! What ship, lookout?”
A hesitant reply came back from the bows.
“Destroyer, sir… Don’t think it’s one of ours, sir.”
“Make the challenge, Yeoman.”
A five inch shell screamed over their heads in response.
“Fire!”
The twelve pounder and after four inch, both ready for action, alert for trouble, responded. At the range of a cable, both hit immediately. The German ship turned away into the fog, was lost within seconds apart from the dull orange glow of a fire amidships.
The guns ceased fire.
Sheldrake spun on her heel and discovered the German destroyer was faster, jinking away under full helm. Within five minutes she was alone in a thick grey mist, unable to see anything at all.
“Put us on course for the island, Mr Dacres.”
“Steer oh-twenty degrees, helmsman. Should be about forty minutes at fifteen knots, sir.”
Fifteen knots was far too fast in fog.
“Make it so, Mr Dacres.”
An hour passed.
“Still in deep water, Mr Dacres.”
“Yes, sir. Not quite where I thought we were, sir.”
The fog eddied, opened a little.
“Ships to port beam, sir! Destroyers!”
“Full ahead. Hard to port!”
The fog closed in again and the destroyers were gone.
“What course were the destroyers on, lookout?”
“Northeast, sir.”
“Steer fifty degrees, Coxswain.”
A light cruiser appeared from nothing, fired at them, missed and disappeared.
“That was Arethusa, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain, sir.”
“Bloody fog! Slow ahead.”
There was silence except for the muted whine of the turbine.
“Hear something, sir. Reciprocating engines.”
Bigger than a destroyer, possibly an old battleship.
“Port bow, sir, on the quarter somewhere.”
“Torpedo tubes to port, Mr Harker.”
“Big ship, sir… Armoured cruiser, sir, port twenty, one mile.”
“Ready torpedoes, Mr Harker!”
“It’s Cressy, sir.”
“Belay, Mr Harker!”
The fog swirled thick about them again.
The big old cruiser continued her stately way, slowly disappearing. A stern six inch gun fired a single round. They neither saw nor heard the shellburst.
“To starboard, Coxswain. Course due east.”
Captain Smallwood thought there was a chance the cruiser might have seen them readying a torpedo attack. He preferred not to be identified.
“Gunfire, sir. Somewhere to starboard.”
“Steer towards.”
They spent four hours in the fog, chasing sound, spotting dark shapes they could not identify or locate a second time. They came close to running aground, presumably on Heligoland. Eventually the fog thinned and they heard the crashing of big ships’ guns.
“Flotilla leader in sight, sir.”
“Fearless signalling, join line, sir.”
Sheldrake slipped onto the tail of three destroyers of different classes following the leader.
“Port two miles, sir. Light cruiser, German, foundering, sir.”
“Fearless signalling course for Harwich, sir. Destroyers closing, sir.”
By mid-afternoon the flotilla had come together again and was en route for home.
The officers of the whole flotilla met next morning, in their own shore mess which was their depot so that they could sleep in comfort away from the cramped confines of the destroyers.
“What happened?”
“It was a cock-up!”
There was general agreement with that statement. They made a tally of all they had seen, jointly.
“Three light cruisers and one destroyer sunk. Definitely. Damaged, at least six other destroyers and two cruisers, one of them a heavy of some sort. Our damage – none sunk, Arethusa severely hit. Total dead, fewer than forty. Qualifies as a victory. Barman!”
The newspapers said the same.
Captain Smallwood gave the unofficial summation two days later.
“The German battlecruisers never appeared. Beatty sent three more to back up New Zealand and Invincible, so it’s a pity the Hun did not turn up. The submarines fired at six cruisers. Luckily, they missed, as the positions make it clear they targeted Arethusa and Fearless three times each. Cressy reported seeing torpedo tracks across her bows – from whom is unknown – it was almost us. The Germans lost more than a thousand men and their admiral, a bloke named Maas. A definite victory. The word is that the High Seas Fleet has now been ordered never to set sail without specific permission from Kaiser Bill himself. The effect is that we achieved the exact opposite of what we wanted – instead of drawing the Germans out, we have made sure they will stay at home.”
“What does Admiral Keyes have to say, sir? His submarines did not quite cover themselves in glory.”
“The Admiral is not best pleased, it would seem. He is no longer convinced that the submarines should try to work in conjunction with surface craft.”
Two days later and the destroyers were back at sea in their half sections, hunting small craft along the Belgian coast.
Dacres sat back in their wardroom, drinking tepid tea.
“Reports say armed trawlers in some numbers. Escorting small coasters bringing munitions along the coast. Where to is unclear. The whole situation is a mess. The German army has reached the Belgian coast in several places and has taken some ports to its own use, as we know. There are Belgian enclaves as yet unconquered but it is almost a certainty they will be unable to hold out. We are to assist Belgian troops to evacuate, if we locate any. Primarily, we must not allow any German vessels to penetrate to the Channel.”
The conclusion that they were losing the war seemed obvious.
“The Germans are going to get destroyers and cruisers into Belgian ports soon, sir. Then we will be in trouble.”
“Agreed, Mr Sturton. Probably destroyers only – too bit a risk for cruisers! Word is that the Dover Patrol is to be beefed up. Nothing bigger than a light cruiser, but a number of them. There is a plan to locate big guns on the white cliffs to prohibit the British half of the Channel, and others in France, if the Frogs will agree, to extend coverage to the whole. Old battleship twelve inchers will do the job. Plenty of them in the predreadnoughts and going spare. The Royal Naval Air Service is to be busy as well, though doing exactly what is unclear.”
“The German navy has been very slack, leaving the Channel unchallenged, sir.”
“The Kaiser’s personal policy, Sturton. He won’t risk his battleships at sea. They are the fleet in being – a threat rather than a reality.”
“Don’t understand it myself, sir. Glad he’s a fool, anyway.”
“Mr Sturton! The Kaiser is Queen Victoria’s grandson. He may be an enemy, but he can’t be a fool – that is official.”
“Blue blood can never be stupid, by order, sir.”
“Precisely. You should know – it runs in your veins.”
“Only very thinly, sir.”