The Invasion of 1910
The Invasion of 1910PREFACEBOOK I THE ATTACKCHAPTER I THE SURPRISECHAPTER II EFFECT IN THE CITYCHAPTER III NEWS OF THE ENEMYCHAPTER IV A PROPHECY FULFILLEDCHAPTER V OUR FLEET TAKEN UNAWARESCHAPTER VI FIERCE CRUISER BATTLECHAPTER VII CONTINUATION OF THE STRUGGLE AT SEACHAPTER VIII SITUATION IN THE NORTHCHAPTER IX STATE OF SIEGE DECLAREDCHAPTER X HOW THE ENEMY DEALT THE BLOWCHAPTER XI GERMANS LANDING AT HULL AND GOOLECHAPTER XII DESPERATE FIGHTING IN ESSEXCHAPTER XIII DEFENCE AT LASTCHAPTER XIV BRITISH SUCCESS AT ROYSTONCHAPTER XV BRITISH ABANDON COLCHESTERCHAPTER XVI FIERCE FIGHTING AT CHELMSFORDCHAPTER XVII IN THE ENEMY’S HANDSCHAPTER XVIII THE FEELING IN LONDONBOOK II THE SIEGE OF LONDONCHAPTER I THE LINES OF LONDONCHAPTER II REPULSE OF THE GERMANSCHAPTER III BATTLE OF EPPINGCHAPTER IV BOMBARDMENT OF LONDONCHAPTER V THE RAIN OF DEATHCHAPTER VI FALL OF LONDONCHAPTER VII TWO PERSONAL NARRATIVESCHAPTER VIII GERMANS SACKING THE BANKSCHAPTER IX WHAT WAS HAPPENING AT SEACHAPTER X SITUATION SOUTH OF THE THAMESCHAPTER XI DEFENCES OF SOUTH LONDONCHAPTER XII DAILY LIFE OF THE BELEAGUEREDCHAPTER XIII REVOLTS IN SHOREDITCH AND ISLINGTONBOOK III THE REVENGECHAPTER I A BLOW FOR FREEDOMCHAPTER II SCENES AT WATERLOO BRIDGECHAPTER III GREAT BRITISH VICTORYCHAPTER IV MASSACRE OF GERMANS IN LONDONCHAPTER V HOW THE WAR ENDEDCopyright
The Invasion of 1910
William Le Queux
PREFACE
“ I sometimes despair of the country ever becoming alive
to the danger of the unpreparedness of our present position until
too late to prevent some fatal catastrophe.”This was the keynote of a solemn warning made in the House of
Lords on July 10th of the present year by Earl Roberts. His
lordship, while drawing attention to our present inadequate forces,
strongly urged that action should be taken in accordance with the
recommendations of the Elgin Commission that “no military system
could be considered satisfactory which did not contain powers of
expansion outside the limit of the regular forces of the
Crown.”
“ The lessons of the late war appear to have been
completely forgotten.The one prevailing idea
seems to be,” said Earl Roberts, “to cut down our military
expenditure without reference to our increased responsibilities and
our largely augmented revenue. History tells us in the plainest
terms that an Empire which cannot defend its own possessions must
inevitably perish.” And with this view both Lord Milner and the
Marquis of Lansdowne concurred. But surely this is not enough. If
we are to retain our position as the first nation in the world we
must be prepared to defend any raid made upon our
shores.The object of this book is to illustrate our utter
unpreparedness for war, to show how, under certain conditions which
may easily occur, England can be successfully invaded by Germany,
and to present a picture of the ruin which must inevitably fall
upon us on the evening of that not far-distant day.Ever since Lord Roberts formulated his plans for the
establishment of rifle-clubs I have been deeply interested in the
movement; and after a conversation with that distinguished soldier
the idea occurred to me to write a forecast, based upon all the
available military and naval knowledge—which would bring home to
the British public vividly and forcibly what really would occur
were an enemy suddenly to appear in our midst. At the outset it was
declared by the strategists I consulted to be impossible. No such
book could ever be written, for, according to them, the mass of
technical detail was far too great to digest and present in an
intelligible manner to the public.Lord Roberts, however, gave me encouragement. The skeleton
scheme of the manner in which England could be invaded by Germany
was submitted to a number of the highest authorities on strategy,
whose names, however, I am not permitted to divulge, and after many
consultations, much criticism, and considerable difference of
opinion, the “general idea,” with amendment after amendment, was
finally adopted.That, however, was only a mere preliminary. Upon questions of
tactics each tactician consulted held a different view, and each
criticised adversely the other’s suggestions. With the invaluable
assistance of my friend Mr. H. W. Wilson, we had decided upon the
naval portion of the campaign; but when it came to the operations
on land, I found a wide divergence of opinion
everywhere.One way alone remained open—namely, to take the facts exactly
as they stood, add the additional strength of the opposing nations
as they will be in 1910, and then draw logical conclusions. This,
aided by experts, was done; and after many days of argument with
the various authorities, we succeeded at last in getting them in
accord as to the general practicability of an
invasion.Before putting pen to paper it was necessary to reconnoitre
carefully the whole of England from the Thames to the Tyne. This I
did by means of a motor-car, travelling 10,000 miles of all kinds
of roads, and making a tour extending over four months. Each town,
all the points of vantage, military positions, all the available
landing-places on the coast, all railway connections, and telephone
and telegraph communications, were carefully noted for future
reference. With the assistance of certain well-known military
experts, the battlefields were carefully gone over and the
positions marked upon the Ordnance map. Thus, through four months
we pushed on day by day collecting information and material,
sometimes in the big cities, sometimes in the quietest and remotest
hamlets, all of which was carefully tabulated for use.Whatever critics may say, and however their opinions may
differ, it can only be pointed out, first, that the “general idea”
of the scheme is in accordance with the expressed and published
opinions of the first strategists of to-day, and that, as far as
the forecast of events is concerned, it has been written from a
first-hand knowledge of the local colour of each of the scenes
described. The enemy’s Proclamations reproduced are practically
copies of those issued by the Germans during the war of
1870.That the experts and myself will probably be condemned as
alarmists and denounced for revealing information likely to be of
assistance to an enemy goes without saying. Indeed, on March 15th
last, an attempt was made in the House of Commons to suppress its
publication altogether. Mr. R. C. Lehmann, who asked a question of
the Prime Minister, declared that it was “calculated to prejudice
our relations with the other Powers,” while Sir H.
Campbell-Bannerman, in a subsequent letter apologising to me for
condemning in the House a work he had not read, repeated that it
was likely to “produce irritation abroad and might conceivably
alarm the more ignorant public at home.”Such a reflection, cast by the Prime Minister upon the
British nation, is, to say the least, curious, yet it only confirms
the truth that the Government are strenuously seeking to conceal
from our people the appalling military weakness and the consequent
danger to which the country is constantly open.Mr. Haldane’s new scheme has a number of points about it
which, at first sight, will perhaps commend themselves to the
general public, and in some cases to a proportion of military men.
Foremost among these are the provision made for training the
Militia Artillery in the use of comparatively modern field-guns,
and the institution of the County Associations for the
administration of the Volunteers and the encouragement of the local
military spirit. Could an ideal Association of this kind be evolved
there is little doubt that it would be capable of doing an immense
amount of good, since administration by a central staff, ignorant
of the widely differing local conditions which affect the several
Volunteer corps, has already militated against getting the best
work possible out of their members. But under our twentieth-century
social system, which has unfortunately displaced so many
influential and respected county families—every one of which had
military or naval members, relations or ancestors—by wealthy
tradesmen, speculators, and the like, any efficient County
Association will be very hard to create. Mr. Haldane’s scheme is a
bold and masterly sketch, but he will find it very hard to fill in
the details satisfactorily. Unfortunately, the losses the Army must
sustain by the reduction of so many fine battalions are very real
and tangible, while the promised gains in efficiency would appear
to be somewhat shadowy and uncertain.To be weak is to invite war; to be strong is to prevent
it.To arouse our country to a sense of its own lamentable
insecurity is the object of this volume, and that other nations
besides ourselves are interested in England’s grave peril is proved
by the fact that it has already been published in the German,
French, Spanish, Danish, Russian, Italian, and even Japanese
languages.William Le Queux.
BOOK I THE ATTACK
CHAPTER I THE SURPRISE
Two of the myriad of London’s night-workers were walking down
Fleet Street together soon after dawn on Sunday morning, 2nd
September.The sun had not yet risen. That main artery of London
traffic, with its irregular rows of closed shops and newspaper
offices, was quiet and pleasant in the calm, mystic light before
the falling of the smoke-pall.Only at early morning does the dear old City look its best;
in that one quiet, sweet hour when the night’s toil has ended and
the day’s has not yet begun. Only in that brief interval at the
birth of day, when the rose tints of the sky glow slowly into gold,
does the giant metropolis repose—at least, as far as its business
streets are concerned—for at five o’clock the toiling millions
begin to again pour in from all points of the compass, and the
stress and storm of London life at once recommences.And in that hour of silent charm the two grey-bearded
sub-editors, though engaged in offices of rival newspapers, were
making their way homeward to Dulwich to spend Sunday in a
well-earned rest, and were chatting “shop” as Press men
do.
“ I suppose you had the same trouble to get that Yarmouth
story through?” asked Fergusson, the news-editor of theWeekly Dispatch, as they crossed
Whitefriars Street. “We got about half a column, and then the wire
shut down.”
“ Telegraph or telephone?” inquired Baines, who was four or
five years younger than his friend.
“ We were using both—to make sure.”
“ So were we. It was a rattling good story—the robbery was
mysterious, to say the least—but we didn’t get more than half of
it. Something’s wrong with the line, evidently,” Baines said. “If
it were not such a perfect autumn morning, I should be inclined to
think there’d been a storm somewhere.”
“ Yes—funny, wasn’t it?” remarked the other. “A shame we
haven’t the whole story, for it was a first-class one, and we
wanted something. Did you put it on the
contents-bill?”
“ No, because we couldn’t get the finish. I tried in every
way—rang up the Central News, P.A., Exchange Telegraph Company,
tried to get through to Yarmouth on the trunk, and spent half an
hour or so pottering about, but the reply from all the agencies,
from everywhere in fact, was the same—the line was
interrupted.”
“ Just our case. I telephoned to the Post Office, but the
reply came back that the lines were evidently down.”
“ Well, it certainly looks as though there’d been a storm,
but——” and Baines glanced at the bright, clear sky overhead, just
flushed by the bursting sun—“there are certainly no traces of
it.”
“ There’s often a storm on the coast when it’s quite still in
London, my dear fellow,” remarked his friend wisely.
“ That’s all very well. But when all communication with a big
place like Yarmouth is suddenly cut off, as it has been, I can’t
help suspecting that something has happened which we ought to
know.”
“ You’re perhaps right after all,” Fergusson said. “I wonder
if anythinghashappened. We
don’t want to be called back to the office, either of us. My
assistant, Henderson, whom I’ve left in charge, rings me up over
any mare’s nest. The trunk telephones all come into the Post Office
exchange up in Carter Lane. Why not look in there before we go
home? It won’t take us a quarter of an hour, and we have several
trains home from Ludgate Hill.”Baines looked at his watch. Like his companion, he had no
desire to be called back to his office after getting out to
Dulwich, and yet he was in no mood to go making reporter’s
inquiries.
“ I don’t think I’ll go. It’s sure to be nothing, my dear
fellow,” he said. “Besides, I have a beastly headache. I had a
heavy night’s work. One of my men is away ill.”
“ Well, at any rate, I think I’ll go,” Fergusson said. “Don’t
blame me if you get called back for a special edition with a
terrible storm, great loss of life, and all that sort of thing. So
long.” And, smiling, he waved his hand and parted from his friend
in the booking-office of Ludgate Hill Station.Quickening his pace, he hurried through the office and,
passing out by the back, ascended the steep, narrow street until he
reached the Post Office telephone exchange in Carter Lane, where,
presenting his card, he asked to see the
superintendent-in-charge.Without much delay he was shown upstairs into a small private
office, into which came a short, dapper, fair-moustached man with
the bustle of a person in a great hurry.
“ I’ve called,” the sub-editor explained, “to know whether
you can tell me anything regarding the cause of the interruption of
the line to Yarmouth a short time ago. We had some important news
coming through, but were cut off just in the midst of it, and then
we received information that all the telephone and telegraph lines
to Yarmouth were interrupted.”
“ Well, that’s just the very point which is puzzling us at
this moment,” was the night-superintendent’s reply. “It is quite
unaccountable. Our trunk going to Yarmouth seems to be down, as
well as the telegraphs. Yarmouth, Lowestoft, and beyond Beccles
seem all to have been suddenly cut off. About eighteen minutes to
four the operators noticed something wrong, switched the trunks
through to the testers, and the latter reported to me in due
course.”
“ That’s strange! Did they all break down
together?”
“ No. The first that failed was the one that runs through
Chelmsford, Colchester, and Ipswich up to Lowestoft and Yarmouth.
The operator found that he could get through to Ipswich and
Beccles. Ipswich knew nothing, except that something was wrong.
They could still ring up Beccles, but not beyond.”As they were speaking, there was a tap at the door, and the
assistant night-superintendent entered, saying—
“ The Norwich line through Scole and Long Stratton has now
failed, sir. About half-past four Norwich reported a fault
somewhere north, between there and Cromer. But the operator now
says that the line is apparently broken, and so are all the
telegraphs from there to Cromer, Sheringham, and
Holt.”
“ Another line has gone, then!” exclaimed the
superintendent-in-charge, utterly astounded. “Have you tried to get
on to Cromer by the other routes—through Nottingham and King’s
Lynn, or through Cambridge?”
“ The testers have tried every route, but there’s no
response.”
“ You could get through to some of the places—Yarmouth, for
instance—by telegraphing to the Continent, I suppose?” asked
Fergusson.
“ We are already trying,” responded the assistant
superintendent.
“ What cables run out from the east coast in that
neighbourhood?” inquired the sub-editor quickly.
“ There are five between Southwold and Cromer—three run to
Germany, and two to Holland,” replied the assistant. “There’s the
cable from Yarmouth to Barkum, in the Frisian Islands; from
Happisburg, near Mundesley, to Barkum; from Yarmouth to Emden; from
Lowestoft to Haarlem, and from Kessingland, near Southwold, to
Zandyport.”
“ And you are trying all the routes?” asked his
superior.
“ I spoke to Paris myself an hour ago and asked them to cable
by all five routes to Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Kessingland, and
Happisburg,” was the assistant’s reply. “I also asked Liverpool
Street Station and King’s Cross to wire down to some of their
stations on the coast, but the reply was that they were in the same
predicament as ourselves—their lines were down north of Beccles,
Wymondham, East Dereham, and also south of Lynn. I’ll just run
along and see if there’s any reply from Paris. They ought to be
through by this time, as it’s Sunday morning, and no traffic.” And
he went out hurriedly.
“ There’s certainly something very peculiar,” remarked the
superintendent-in-charge to the sub-editor. “If there’s been an
earthquake or an electrical disturbance, then it is a most
extraordinary one. Every single line reaching to the coast seems
interrupted.”
“ Yes. It’s uncommonly funny,” Fergusson remarked. “I wonder
what could have happened. You’ve never had a complete breakdown
like this before?”
“ Never. But I think——”The sentence remained unfinished, for his assistant returned
with a slip of paper in his hand, saying—
“ This message has just come in from Paris. I’ll read it.
‘Superintendent Telephones, Paris, to Superintendent Telephones,
London.—Have obtained direct telegraphic communication with
operators of all five cables to England. Haarlem, Zandyport,
Barkum, and Emden all report that cables are interrupted. They can
get no reply from England, and tests show that cables are damaged
somewhere near English shore.’ ”
“ Is that all?” asked Fergusson.
“ That’s all. Paris knows no more than we do,” was the
assistant’s response.
“ Then the Norfolk and Suffolk coasts are completely
isolated—cut off from post office, railways, telephones, and
cables!” exclaimed the superintendent. “It’s mysterious—most
mysterious!” And, taking up the instrument upon his table, he
placed a plug in one of the holes down the front of the table
itself, and a moment later was in conversation with the official in
charge of the traffic at Liverpool Street, repeating the report
from Paris, and urging him to send light engines north from
Wymondham or Beccles into the zone of mystery.The reply came back that he had already done so, but a
telegram had reached him from Wymondham to the effect that the
road-bridges between Kimberley and Hardingham had apparently fallen
in, and the line was blocked by débris. Interruption was also
reported beyond Swaffham, at a place called Little
Dunham.
“ Then even the railways themselves are broken!” cried
Fergusson. “Is it possible that there’s been a great
earthquake?”
“ An earthquake couldn’t very well destroy all five cables
from the Continent,” remarked the superintendent
gravely.The latter had scarcely placed the receiver upon the hook
when a third man entered—an operator who, addressing him,
said—
“ Will you please come to the switchboard, sir? There’s a man
in the Ipswich call office who has just told me a most
extraordinary story. He says that he started in his motor-car alone
from Lowestoft to London at half-past three this morning, and just
as it was getting light he was passing along the edge of Henham
Park, between Wangford village and Blythburgh, when he saw three
men apparently repairing the telegraph wires. One was up the pole,
and the other two were standing below. As he passed he saw a flash,
for, to his surprise, one of the men fired point-blank at him with
a revolver. Fortunately, the shot went wide, and he at once put on
a move and got down into Blythburgh village, even though one of his
tyres went down. It had probably been pierced by the bullet fired
at him, as the puncture was unlike any he had ever had before. At
Blythburgh he informed the police of the outrage, and the
constable, in turn, woke up the postmaster, who tried to telegraph
back to the police at Wrentham, but found that the line was
interrupted. Was it possible that the men were cutting the wires,
instead of repairing them? He says that after repairing the
puncture he took the village constable and three other men on his
car and went back to the spot, where, although the trio had
escaped, they saw that wholesale havoc had been wrought with the
telegraphs. The lines had been severed in four or five places, and
whole lengths tangled up into great masses. A number of poles had
been sawn down, and were lying about the roadside. Seeing that
nothing could be done, the gentleman remounted his car, came on to
Ipswich, and reported the damage at our call office.”
“ And is he still there?” exclaimed the superintendent
quickly, amazed at the motorist’s statement.
“ Yes. I asked him to wait for a few moments in order to
speak to you, sir.”
“ Good. I’ll go at once. Perhaps you’d like to come also, Mr.
Fergusson?”And all four ran up to the gallery, where the huge
switchboards were ranged around, and where the night operators,
with the receivers attached to one ear, were still at
work.In a moment the superintendent had taken the operator’s seat,
adjusted the ear-piece, and was in conversation with Ipswich. A
second later he was speaking with the man who had actually
witnessed the cutting of the trunk line.While he was thus engaged an operator at the farther end of
the switchboard suddenly gave vent to a cry of surprise and
disbelief.
“ What do you say, Beccles? Repeat it,” he asked
excitedly.Then a moment later he shouted aloud—
“ Beccles says that German soldiers—hundreds of them—are
pouring into the place! The Germans have landed at Lowestoft, they
think.”All who heard those ominous words sprang up dumbfounded,
staring at each other.The assistant-superintendent dashed to the operator’s side
and seized his apparatus.
“ Halloa—halloa, Beccles! Halloa—halloa—halloa!”The response was some gruff words in German, and the sound of
scuffling could distinctly be heard. Then all was
silent.Time after time he rang up the small Suffolk town, but in
vain. Then he switched through to the testers, and quickly the
truth was plain.The second trunk line to Norwich, running from Ipswich by
Harleston and Beccles, had been cut farther towards
London.But what held everyone breathless in the trunk telephone
headquarters was that the Germans had actually effected the
surprise landing that had so often in recent years been predicted
by military critics; that England on that quiet September Sunday
morning had been attacked. England was actually invaded. It was
incredible!Yet London’s millions in their Sunday morning lethargy were
in utter ignorance of the grim disaster that had suddenly fallen
upon the land.Fergusson was for rushing at once back to theWeekly Dispatchoffice to get out an
extraordinary edition, but the superintendent, who was still in
conversation with the motorist, urged judicious
forethought.
“ For the present, let us wait. Don’t let us alarm the public
unnecessarily. We want corroboration. Let us have the motorist up
here,” he suggested.
“ Yes,” cried the sub-editor. “Let me speak to
him.”Over the wire Fergusson begged the stranger to come at once
to London and give his story, declaring that the military
authorities would require it. Then, just as the man who had been
shot at by German advance spies—for such they had undoubtedly
been—in order to prevent the truth leaking out, gave his promise to
come to town at once, there came over the line from the coastguard
at Southwold a vague, incoherent telephone message regarding
strange ships having been seen to the northward, and asking for
connection with Harwich; while King’s Cross and Liverpool Street
Stations both rang up almost simultaneously, reporting the receipt
of extraordinary messages from King’s Lynn, Diss, Harleston,
Halesworth, and other places. All declared that German soldiers
were swarming over the north, that Lowestoft and Beccles had been
seized, and that Yarmouth and Cromer were isolated.Various stationmasters reported that the enemy had blown up
bridges, taken up rails, and effectually blocked all communication
with the coast. Certain important junctions were already held by
the enemy’s outposts.Such was the amazing news received in that high-up room in
Carter Lane, City, on that sweet, sunny morning when all the great
world of London was at peace, either still slumbering or
week-ending.Fergusson remained for a full hour and a half at the
Telephone Exchange, anxiously awaiting any further corroboration.
Many wild stories came over the wires telling how panic-stricken
people were fleeing inland away from the enemy’s outposts. Then he
took a hansom to theWeekly Dispatchoffice, and proceeded to prepare a special edition of his
paper—an edition containing surely the most amazing news that had
ever startled London.Fearing to create undue panic, he decided not to go to press
until the arrival of the motorist from Ipswich. He wanted the story
of the man who had actually seen the cutting of the wires. He paced
his room excitedly, wondering what effect the news would have upon
the world. In the rival newspaper offices the report was, as yet,
unknown. With journalistic forethought he had arranged that at
present the bewildering truth should not leak out to his rivals,
either from the railway termini or from the telephone exchange. His
only fear was that some local correspondent might telegraph from
some village or town nearer the metropolis which was still in
communication with the central office.Time passed very slowly. Each moment increased his anxiety.
He had sent out the one reporter who remained on duty to the house
of Colonel Sir James Taylor, the Permanent Under-Secretary for War.
Halting before the open window, he looked up and down the street
for the arriving motor-car. But all was quiet.Eight o’clock had just boomed from Big Ben, and London still
remained in her Sunday morning peace. The street, bright in the
warm sunshine, was quite empty, save for a couple of
motor-omnibuses and a sprinkling of gaily dressed holiday-makers on
their way to the day excursion trains.In that centre of London—the hub of the world—all was
comparatively silent, the welcome rest after the busy turmoil that
through six days in the week is unceasing, that fevered throbbing
of the heart of the world’s great capital.Of a sudden, however, came the whirr-r of an approaching car,
as a thin-faced, travel-stained man tore along from the direction
of the Strand and pulled up before the office. The fine car, a
six-cylinder “Napier,” was grey with the mud of country roads,
while the motorist himself was smothered until his goggles had been
almost entirely covered.Fergusson rushed out to him, and a few moments later the pair
were in the upstairs room, the sub-editor swiftly taking down the
motorist’s story, which differed very little from what he had
already spoken over the telephone.Then, just as Big Ben chimed the half-hour, the echoes of the
half-deserted Strand were suddenly awakened by the loud, strident
voices of the newsboys shouting—
“ Weekly Dispatch, spe-shall! Invasion
of England this morning! Germans in Suffolk! Terrible panic!
Spe-shall!Weekly Dispatch,
Spe-shall!”As soon as the paper had gone to press Fergusson urged the
motorist—whose name was Horton, and who lived at Richmond—to go
with him to the War Office and report. Therefore, both men entered
the car, and in a few moments drew up before the new War Office in
Whitehall.
“ I want to see somebody in authority at once!” cried
Fergusson excitedly to the sentry as he sprang out.
“ You’ll find the caretaker, if you ring at the side
entrance—on the right, there,” responded the man, who then marched
on.
“ The caretaker!” echoed the excited sub-editor bitterly.
“And England invaded by the Germans!”He, however, dashed towards the door indicated and rang the
bell. At first there was no response. But presently there were
sounds of a slow unbolting of the door, which opened at last,
revealing a tall, elderly man in slippers, a retired
soldier.
“ I must see somebody at once!” exclaimed the journalist.
“Not a moment must be lost. What permanent officials are
here?”
“ There’s nobody ’ere, sir,” responded the man in some
surprise at the request. “It’s Sunday morning, you
know.”
“ Sunday! I know that, but I must see someone. Whom can I
see?”
“ Nobody, until to-morrow morning. Come then.” And the old
soldier was about to close the door when the journalist prevented
him, asking—
“ Where’s the clerk-in-residence?”
“ How should I know? Gone up the river, perhaps. It’s a nice
mornin’.”
“ Well, where does he live?”
“ Sometimes ’ere—sometimes in ’is chambers in Ebury Street,”
and the man mentioned the number.
“ Better come to-morrow, sir, about eleven. Somebody’ll be
sure to see you then.”
“ To-morrow!” cried the other. “To-morrow! You don’t know
what you’re saying, man! To-morrow will be too late. Perhaps it’s
too late now. The Germans have landed in England!”
“ Oh, ’ave they?” exclaimed the caretaker, regarding both men
with considerable suspicion. “Our people will be glad to know that,
I’m sure—to-morrow.”
“ But haven’t you got telephones, private telegraphs, or
something here, so that I can communicate with the authorities?
Can’t you ring up the Secretary of State, the Permanent Secretary,
or somebody?”The caretaker hesitated a moment, his incredulous gaze fixed
upon the pale, agitated faces of the two men.
“ Well, just wait a minute, and I’ll see,” he said,
disappearing into a long cavernous passage.In a few moments he reappeared with a constable whose duty it
was to patrol the building.The officer looked the strangers up and down, and then
asked—
“ What’s this extraordinary story? Germans landed in
England—eh? That’s fresh, certainly!”
“ Yes. Can’t you hear what the newsboys are crying? Listen!”
exclaimed the motorist.
“ H’m. Well, you’re not the first gentleman who’s been here
with a scare, you know. If I were you I’d wait till to-morrow,” and
he glanced significantly at the caretaker.
“ I won’t wait till to-morrow!” cried Fergusson. “The country
is in peril, and you refuse to assist me on your own
responsibility—you understand?”
“ All right, my dear sir,” replied the officer, leisurely
hooking his thumbs in his belt. “You’d better drive home, and call
again in the morning.”
“ So this is the way the safety of the country is neglected!”
cried the motorist bitterly, turning away. “Everyone away, and this
great place, built merely to gull the public, I suppose, empty and
its machinery useless. What will England say when she learns the
truth?”As they were walking in disgust out from the portico towards
the car, a man jumped from a hansom in breathless haste. He was the
reporter whom Fergusson had sent out to Sir James Taylor’s house in
Cleveland Square, Hyde Park.
“ They thought Sir James spent the night with his brother up
at Hampstead,” he exclaimed. “I’ve been there, but find that he’s
away for the week-end at Chilham Hall, near Buckden.”
“ Buckden! That’s on the Great North Road!” cried Horton.
“We’ll go at once and find him. Sixty miles from London. We can be
there under two hours!”And a few minutes later the pair were tearing due north in
the direction of Finchley, disregarding the signs from police
constables to stop, Horton wiping the dried mud from his goggles
and pulling them over his half-closed eyes.They had given the alarm in London, and theWeekly Dispatchwas spreading the
amazing news everywhere. People read it eagerly, gasped for a
moment, and then smiled in utter disbelief. But the two men were on
their way to reveal the appalling truth to the man who was one of
the heads of that complicated machinery of inefficient defence
which we so proudly term our Army.Bursting with the astounding information, they bent their
heads to the wind as the car shot onward through Barnet and
Hatfield, then, entering Hitchin, they were compelled to slow down
in the narrow street as they passed the old Sun Inn, and afterwards
out again upon the broad highway with its many telegraph lines,
through Biggleswade, Tempsford, and Eaton Socon, until, in Buckden,
Horton pulled up to inquire of a farm labourer for Chilham
Hall.
“ Oop yon road to the left, sir. ’Bout a mile Huntingdon
way,” was the man’s reply.Then away they sped, turning a few minutes later into the
handsome lodge-gates of Chilham Park, and running up the great elm
avenue, drew up before the main door of the ancient hall, a quaint
many-gabled old place of grey stone.
“ Is Sir James Taylor in?” Fergusson shouted to the liveried
man who opened the door.
“ He’s gone across the home farm with his lordship and the
keepers,” was the reply.
“ Then take me to him at once. I haven’t a second to lose. I
must see him this instant.”Thus urged, the servant conducted the pair across the park
and through several fields to the edge of a small wood, where two
elderly men were walking with a couple of keepers and several dogs
about them.
“ The tall gentleman is Sir James. The other is his
lordship,” the servant explained to Fergusson; and a few moments
later the breathless journalist, hurrying up, faced the Permanent
Under-Secretary with the news that England was invaded—that the
Germans had actually effected a surprise landing on the east
coast.Sir James and his host stood speechless. Like others, they at
first believed the pale-faced, bearded sub-editor to be a lunatic,
but a few moments later, when Horton briefly repeated the story,
they saw that whatever might have occurred, the two men were at
least in deadly earnest.
“ Impossible!” cried Sir James. “We should surely have heard
something of it if such were actually the case! The coastguard
would have telephoned the news instantly. Besides, where is our
fleet?”
“ The Germans evidently laid their plans with great
cleverness. Their spies, already in England, cut the wires at a
pre-arranged hour last night,” declared Fergusson. “They sought to
prevent this gentleman from giving the alarm by shooting him. All
the railways to London are already either cut, or held by the
enemy. One thing, however, is clear—fleet or no fleet, the east
coast is entirely at their mercy.”Host and guest exchanged dark glances.
“ Well, if what you say is the actual truth,” exclaimed Sir
James, “to-day is surely the blackest day that England has ever
known.”
“ Yes, thanks to the pro-German policy of the Government and
the false assurances of the Blue Water School. They should have
listened to Lord Roberts,” snapped his lordship. “I suppose you’ll
go at once, Taylor, and make inquiries?”
“ Of course,” responded the Permanent Secretary. And a
quarter of an hour later, accepting Horton’s offer, he was sitting
in the car as it headed back towards London.Could the journalist’s story be true? As he sat there, with
his head bent against the wind and the mud splashing into his face,
Sir James recollected too well the repeated warnings of the past
five years, serious warnings by men who knew our shortcomings, but
to which no attention had been paid. Both the Government and the
public had remained apathetic, the idea of peril had been laughed
to scorn, and the country had, ostrich-like, buried its head in the
sand, and allowed Continental nations to supersede us in business,
in armaments, in everything.The danger of invasion had always been ridiculed as a mere
alarmist’s fiction; those responsible for the defence of the
country had smiled, the Navy had been reduced, and the Army had
remained in contented inefficiency.If the blow had really been struck by Germany? If she had
risked three or four, out of her twenty-three, army corps, and had
aimed at the heart of the British Empire? What then? Ay! what
then?As the car swept down Regent Street into Pall Mall and
towards Whitehall, Sir James saw on every side crowds discussing
the vague but astounding reports now published in special editions
of all the Sunday papers, and shouted wildly
everywhere.Boys bearing sheets fresh from the Fleet Street presses were
seized, and bundles torn from them by excited Londoners eager to
learn the latest intelligence.Around both War Office and Admiralty great surging crowds
were clamouring loudly for the truth. Was it the truth, or was it
only a hoax? Half London disbelieved it. Yet from every quarter,
from the north and from across the bridges, thousands were pouring
in to ascertain what had really occurred, and the police had the
greatest difficulty in keeping order.In Trafalgar Square, where the fountains were plashing so
calmly in the autumn sunlight, a shock-headed man mounted the back
of one of the lions and harangued the crowd with much
gesticulation, denouncing the Government in the most violent terms;
but the orator was ruthlessly pulled down by the police in the
midst of his fierce attack.It was half-past two o’clock in the afternoon. The Germans
had already been on English soil ten hours, yet London was in
ignorance of where they had actually landed, and utterly
helpless.All sorts of wild rumours were afloat, rumours that spread
everywhere throughout the metropolis, from Hampstead to Tooting,
from Barking to Hounslow, from Willesden to Woolwich. The Germans
were in England!But in those first moments of the astounding revelation the
excitement centred in Trafalgar Square and its vicinity. Men
shouted and threatened, women shrieked and wrung their hands, while
wild-haired orators addressed groups at the street
corners.Where was our Navy? they asked. Where was our “command of the
sea” of which the papers had always talked so much? If we possessed
that, then surely no invader could ever have landed? Where was our
Army—that brave British Army that had fought triumphantly a hundred
campaigns, and which we had been assured by the Government was
always ready for any emergency? When would it face the invader and
drive him back into the sea?When?And the wild, shouting crowds looked up at the many windows
of the Admiralty and the War Office, ignorant that both those huge
buildings only held terrified caretakers and a double watch of
police constables.Was England invaded? Were foreign legions actually
overrunning Norfolk and Suffolk, and were we really helpless
beneath the iron heel of the enemy?It was impossible—incredible! England was on the most
friendly terms with Germany. Yet the blow had fallen, and London—or
that portion of her that was not enjoying its Sunday afternoon nap
in the smug respectability of the suburbs—stood amazed and
breathless, in incredulous wonder.
CHAPTER II EFFECT IN THE CITY
Monday, 3rd September 1910, was indeed Black Monday for
London.By midnight on Sunday the appalling news had spread
everywhere. Though the full details of the terrible naval disasters
were not yet to hand, yet it was vaguely known that our ships had
been defeated in the North Sea, and many of them sunk.Before 7 a.m. on Monday, however, telegrams reaching London
by the subterranean lines from the north gave thrilling stories of
frightful disasters we had, while all unconscious, suffered at the
hands of the German fleet.With London, the great cities of the north, Liverpool,
Manchester, Sheffield, and Birmingham, awoke utterly dazed. It
seemed incredible. And yet the enemy had, by his sudden and
stealthy blow, secured command of the sea and actually
landed.The public wondered why a formal declaration of war had not
previously been made, ignorant of the fact that the declaration
preceding the Franco-German War was the first made by any civilised
nation prior to the commencement of hostilities for one hundred and
seventy years. The peril of the nation was now recognised on every
hand.Eager millions poured into the City by every train from the
suburbs and towns in the vicinity of the metropolis, anxious to
ascertain the truth for themselves, pale with terror, wild with
excitement, indignant that our land forces were not already
mobilised and ready to move eastward to meet the
invader.As soon as the banks were opened there was a run on them, but
by noon the Bank of England had suspended all specie payments. The
other banks, being thus unable to meet their engagements, simply
closed the doors, bringing business to an abrupt standstill.
Consols stood at 90 on Saturday, but by noon on Monday were down to
42—lower even than they were in 1798, when they stood at 47¼.
Numbers of foreigners tried to speculate heavily, but were unable
to do so, for banking being suspended they could not obtain
transfers.On the Stock Exchange the panic in the afternoon was
indescribable. Securities of every sort went entirely to pieces,
and there were no buyers. Financiers were surprised that no warning
in London had betrayed the position of affairs, London being the
money centre of the world. Prior to 1870 Paris shared with London
the honour of being the pivot of the money market, but on the
suspension of cash payments by the Bank of France during the
Franco-German War, Paris lost that position. Had it not been that
the milliards comprising the French War indemnity were intact in
golden louis in the fortress of Spandau, Germany could never have
hoped to wage sudden war with Great Britain before she had made
Berlin independent of London in a money sense, or, at any rate, to
accumulate sufficient gold to carry on the war for at least twelve
months. The only way in which she could have done this was to raise
her rate so as to offer better terms than London. Yet directly the
Bank of England discovered the rate of exchange going against her,
and her stock of gold diminishing, she would have responded by
raising the English bank-rate in order to check the flow. Thus
competition would have gone on until the rates became so high that
all business would be checked, and people would have realised their
securities to obtain the necessary money to carry on their affairs.
Thus, no doubt, the coming war would have been forecasted had it
not been for Germany’s already prepared war-chest, which the
majority of persons have nowadays overlooked. Its possession had
enabled Germany to strike her sudden blow, and now the Bank of
England, which is the final reserve of gold in the United Kingdom,
found that as notes were cashed so the stock of gold diminished
until it was in a few hours compelled to obtain from the Government
suspension of the Bank Charter. This enabled the Bank to suspend
cash payment, and issue notes without a corresponding deposit of
the equivalent in gold.The suspension, contrary to increasing the panic, had,
curiously enough, the immediate effect of somewhat allaying it.
Plenty of people in the City were confident that the blow aimed
could not prove an effective one, and that the Germans, however
many might have landed, would quickly be sent back again. Thus many
level-headed business men regarded the position calmly, believing
that when our command of the sea was again re-established, as it
must be in a day or two, the enemy would soon be
non-existent.Business outside the money market was, of course, utterly
demoralised. The buying of necessities was now uppermost in
everyone’s mind. Excited crowds in the streets caused most of the
shops in the City and West End to close, while around the Admiralty
were great crowds of eager men and women of all classes, tearful
wives of bluejackets jostling with officers’ ladies from Mayfair
and Belgravia, demanding news of their loved ones—inquiries which,
alas! the casualty office were unable to satisfy. The scene of
grief, terror, and suspense was heartrending. Certain ships were
known to have been sunk with all on board after making a gallant
fight, and those who had husbands, brothers, lovers, or fathers on
board wept loudly, calling upon the Government to avenge the
ruthless murder of their loved ones.In Manchester, in Liverpool, indeed all through the great
manufacturing centres of the north, the excitement of London was
reflected.In Manchester there was a panic “on ’Change,” and the crowd
in Deansgate coming into collision with a force of mounted police,
some rioting occurred, and a number of shop windows broken, while
several agitators who attempted to speak in front of the Infirmary
were at once arrested.Liverpool was the scene of intense anxiety and excitement,
when a report was spread that German cruisers were about the
estuary of the Mersey. It was known that the coal staithes, cranes,
and petroleum tanks at Penarth, Cardiff, Barry, and Llanelly had
been destroyed; that Aberdeen had been bombarded; and there were
rumours that notwithstanding the mines and defences of the Mersey,
the city of Liverpool, with all its crowd of valuable shipping, was
to share the same fate.The whole place was in a ferment. By eleven o’clock the
stations were crowded by women and children sent by the men away
into the country—anywhere from the doomed and defenceless city. The
Lord Mayor vainly endeavoured to inspire confidence, but telegrams
from London announcing the complete financial collapse, only
increased the panic. In the Old Hay Market and up Dale Street to
the landing-stages, around the Exchange, the Town Hall, and the
Custom House, the excited throng surged, talking eagerly, terrified
at the awful blow that was prophesied. At any moment the grey hulls
of those death-dealing cruisers might appear in the river; at any
moment the first shell might fall and burst in their
midst.Some—the wiseacres—declared that the Germans would never
shell a city without first demanding an indemnity, but the majority
argued that as they had already disregarded the law of nations in
attacking our fleet without provocation, they would bombard
Liverpool, destroy the shipping, and show no quarter.Thus during the whole of the day Liverpool existed in hourly
terror of destruction.London remained breathless, wondering what was about to
happen. Every hour the morning newspapers continued to issue
special editions, containing all the latest facts procurable
regarding the great naval disaster. The telegraphs and telephones
to the north were constantly at work, and survivors of a destroyer
who had landed at St. Abb’s, north of Berwick, gave thrilling and
terrible narratives.A shilling a copy was no unusual price to be paid in
Cornhill, Moorgate Street, Lombard Street, or Ludgate Hill for a
halfpenny paper, and the newsboys reaped rich harvests, except
when, as so often happened, they were set upon by the excited
crowd, and their papers torn from them.Fleet Street was entirely blocked, and the traffic stopped by
crowds standing before the newspaper offices waiting for the
summary of each telegram to be posted up upon the windows. And as
each despatch was read, sighs, groans, and curses were heard on
every hand.The Government—the sleek-mannered, soft-spoken,
self-confident Blue Water School—were responsible for it all, was
declared on every hand. They should have placed the Army upon a
firm and proper footing; they should have encouraged the
establishment of rifle clubs to teach every young man how to defend
his home; they should have pondered over the thousand and one
warnings uttered during the past ten years by eminent men,
statesmen, soldiers, and writers: they should have listened to
those forcible and eloquent appeals of Earl Roberts, England’s
military hero, who, having left the service, had no axe to grind.
He spoke the truth in the House of Lords in 1906 fearlessly, from
patriotic motives, because he loved his country and foresaw its
doom. And yet the Government and the public had disregarded his
ominous words.And now the blow he prophesied had fallen. It was too
late—too late! The Germans were upon English soil.What would the Government now do? What, indeed, could it
do?There were some who shouted in bravado that when mobilised
the British troops would drive the invader into the sea; but such
men were unaware of the length of time necessary to mobilise our
Army for home defence—or of the many ridiculous regulations which
appear to be laid down for the purpose of hindering rather than
accelerating the concentration of forces.All through the morning, amid the chaos of business in the
City, the excitement had been steadily growing, until shortly after
three o’clock theDaily Mailissued a special edition containing a copy of a German
proclamation which, it was said, was now posted everywhere in East
Norfolk, East Suffolk, and in Maldon in Essex, already occupied by
the enemy.The original proclamation had been found pasted by some
unknown hand upon a barn door near the town of Billericay, and had
been detached and brought to London in a motor-car by theMail’scorrespondent.It showed plainly the German intention was to deal a hard and
crushing blow, and it struck terror into the heart of London, for
it read as will be seen on next page.Upon the walls of the Mansion House, the Guildhall, outside
the Bank of England, the Royal Exchange, and upon the various
public buildings within the City wards a proclamation by the Lord
Mayor quickly appeared. Even upon the smoke-blackened walls of St.
Paul’s Cathedral, where, at that moment, a special service was
being held, big posters were being posted and read by the assembled
thousands.There was a sullen gloom everywhere as the hours went slowly
by, and the sun sank into the smoke haze, shedding over the giant
city a blood-red afterglow—a light that was ominous in those
breathless moments of suspense and terror.Westward beyond Temple Bar proclamations were being posted.
Indeed, upon all the hoardings in Greater London appeared various
broadsheets side by side. One by the Chief Commissioner of Police,
regulating the traffic in the streets, and appealing to the public
to assist in the preservation of order; another by the
MayorPROCLAMATION.WE, GENERAL COMMANDING THE 3rd GERMAN
ARMY,HAVING SEEN the proclamation of His Imperial Majesty the
Emperor William, King of Prussia, Chief of the Army, which
authorises the generals commanding the different German Army Corps
to establish special measures against all municipalities and
persons acting in contradiction to the usages of war, and to take
what steps they consider necessary for the well-being of the
troops,HEREBY GIVE PUBLIC NOTICE:(1) THE MILITARY JURISDICTION is hereby established. It
applies to all territory of Great Britain occupied by the German
Army, and to every action endangering the security of the troops by
rendering assistance to the enemy. The Military Jurisdiction will
be announced and placed vigorously in force in every parish by the
issue of this present proclamation.(2) ANY PERSON OR PERSONS NOT BEING BRITISH SOLDIERS, or not
showing by their dress that they are soldiers:(a) SERVING THE ENEMY as
spies;(b) MISLEADING THE
GERMAN TROOPS when charged to serve as guides;(c) SHOOTING, INJURING,
OR ROBBING any person belonging to the German Army, or forming part
of its personnel;(d) DESTROYING BRIDGES
OR CANALS, damaging telegraphs, telephones, electric light wires,
gasometers, or railways, interfering with roads, setting fire to
munitions of war, provisions, or quarters established by German
troops;(e) TAKING ARMS against
the German troops,WILL BE PUNISHED BY DEATH.IN EACH CASE the officer presiding at the Council of War will
be charged with the trial, and pronounce judgment. Councils of War
may not pronounce ANY OTHER CONDEMNATION SAVE THAT OF
DEATH.THE JUDGMENT WILL BE IMMEDIATELY EXECUTED.(3) TOWNS OR VILLAGES in the territory in which the
contravention takes place will be compelled to pay indemnity equal
to one year’s revenue.(4) THE INHABITANTS MUST FURNISH necessaries for the German
troops daily as follows:—1 lb. 10 oz. bread.13 oz. meat.3 lb. potatoes.1 oz. tea.1½ oz. tobacco or 5 cigars.½ pint wine.1½ pints beer, or 1wine-glassful ofbrandy or whisky.The ration for each horse:—13 lb. oats.3 lb. 6 oz. hay.3 lb. 6 oz. straw.(ALL PERSONS WHO PREFER to pay an indemnity in money may do
so at the rate of 2s. per day per man.)(5) COMMANDERS OF DETACHED corps have the right to
requisition all that they consider necessary for the well-being of
their men, and will deliver to the inhabitants official receipts
for goods so supplied.WE HOPE IN CONSEQUENCE that the inhabitants of Great Britain
will make no difficulty in furnishing all that may be considered
necessary.(6) AS REGARDS the individual transactions between the troops
and the inhabitants, we give notice that one German mark shall be
considered the equivalent to one English shilling.The General Commanding the Ninth German Army
Corps,VON KRONHELM.Beccles,September the Third,
1910.of Westminster, couched in similar terms to that of the Lord
Mayor; and a Royal Proclamation, brief but noble, urging every
Briton to do his duty, to take his part in the defence of King and
country, and to unfurl the banner of the British Empire that had
hitherto carried peace and civilisation in every quarter of the
world. Germany, whose independence had been respected, had attacked
us without provocation; therefore hostilities were, alas,
inevitable.When the great poster printed in big capitals and headed by
the Royal Arms made its appearance it was greeted with wild
cheering.It was a message of love from King to people—a message to the
highest and to the lowest. Posted in Whitechapel at the same hour
as in Whitehall, the throngs crowded eagerly about it and sang “God
Save our Gracious King,” for if they had but little confidence in
the War Office and Admiralty, they placed their trust in their
Sovereign, the first diplomat in Europe. Therefore the loyalty was
spontaneous, as it always is. They read the royal message, and
cheered and cheered again.As evening closed in yet another poster made its appearance
in every city, town, and village in the country, a poster issued by
military and police officers and naval officers in charge of
dockyards—the order for mobilisation.The public, however, little dreamed of the hopeless confusion
in the War Office, in the various regimental dépôts throughout the
country, at headquarters everywhere, and in every barracks in the
kingdom. The armed forces of England were passing from a peace to a
war footing; but the mobilisation of the various units—namely, its
completion in men, horses, and material—was utterly impossible in
the face of the extraordinary regulations which, kept a strict
secret by the Council of Defence until this moment, revealed a
hopeless state of things.The disorder was frightful. Not a regiment was found fully
equipped and ready to march. There was a dearth of officers,
equipment, horses, provisions, of, indeed, everything. Some
regiments simply existed in the pages of the Army List, but when
they came to appear on parade they were mere paper phantoms. Since
the Boer War the Government had, with culpable negligence,
disregarded the needs of the Army, even though they had the
object-lesson of the struggle between Russia and Japan before their
eyes.In many cases the well-meaning efforts on the part of
volunteers proved merely a ludicrous farce. Volunteers from Glasgow
found themselves due to proceed to Dorking, in Surrey; those from
Aberdeen were expected at Caterham, while those from Carlisle made
a start for Reading, and found themselves in the quiet old city of
Durham. And in a hundred cases it was the same. Muddle, confusion,
and a chain of useless regulations at Aldershot, Colchester, and
York all tended to hinder the movement of troops to their points of
concentration, bringing home to the authorities at last the ominous
warnings of the unheeded critics of the past.In that hour of England’s deadly peril, when not a moment
should have been lost in facing the invader, nothing was ready. Men
had guns without ammunition; cavalry and artillery were without
horses; engineers only half-equipped; volunteers with no transport
whatever; balloon sections without balloons, and searchlight units
vainly trying to obtain the necessary instruments.Horses were being requisitioned everywhere. The few horses
that, in the age of motor-cars, now remained on the roads in London
were quickly taken for draught, and all horses fit to ride were
commandeered for the cavalry.During the turmoil daring German spies were actively at work
south of London. The Southampton line of the London and
South-Western Railway was destroyed—with explosives placed by
unknown hands—by the bridge over the Wey, near Weybridge, being
blown up, and again that over the Mole, between Walton and Esher,
while the Reading line was cut by the great bridge over the Thames
at Staines being destroyed. The line, too, between Guildford and
Waterloo was also rendered impassable by the wreck of the midnight
train, which was blown up half-way between Wansborough and
Guildford, while in several other places nearer London bridges were
rendered unstable by dynamite, the favourite method apparently
being to blow the crown out of an arch.The well-laid plans of the enemy were thus quickly revealed.
Among the thousands of Germans working in London, the hundred or so
spies, all trusted soldiers, had passed unnoticed, but, working in
unison, each little group of two or three had been allotted its
task, and had previously thoroughly reconnoitred the position and
studied the most rapid or effective means.The railways to the east and north-east coasts all reported
wholesale damage done on Sunday night by the advance agents of the
enemy, and now this was continued on the night of Monday in the
south, the objective being to hinder troops from moving north from
Aldershot. This was, indeed, effectual, for only by a longdétourcould the troops be moved to the
northern defences of London, and while many were on Tuesday
entrained, others were conveyed to London by the motor-omnibuses
sent down for that purpose.Everywhere through London and its vicinity, as well as in
Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Coventry, Leeds, and Liverpool,
motor-cars and motor-omnibuses from dealers and private owners were
being requisitioned by the military authorities, for they would, it
was believed, replace cavalry to a very large extent.Wild and extraordinary reports were circulated regarding the
disasters in the north. Hull, Newcastle, Gateshead, and Tynemouth
had, it was believed, been bombarded and sacked. The shipping in
the Tyne was burning, and the Elswick works were held by the enemy.
Details were, however, very vague, as the Germans were taking every
precaution to prevent information reaching London.
CHAPTER III NEWS OF THE ENEMY
Terror and excitement reigned everywhere. The wildest rumours
were hourly afloat. London was a seething stream of breathless
multitudes of every class.On Monday morning the newspapers throughout the kingdom had
devoted greater part of their space to the extraordinary
intelligence from Norfolk and Suffolk and Essex and other
places.That we were actually invaded was plain, but most of the
newspapers happily preserved a calm, dignified tone, and made no
attempt at sensationalism. The situation was far too
serious.Like the public, however, the Press had been taken entirely
by surprise. The blow had been so sudden and so staggering that
half the alarming reports were discredited.In addition to the details of the enemy’s operations, as far
as could as yet be ascertained, theMorning
Poston Monday contained an account of a
mysterious occurrence at Chatham, which read as
follows:—
“ Chatham,Sept. 1(11.30
p.m.).
“ An extraordinary accident took place on the Medway about
eight o’clock this evening. The steamerPole
Star, 1200 tons register, with a cargo of cement
from Frindsbury, was leaving for Hamburg and came into collision
with theFrauenlob, of Bremen,
a somewhat larger boat, which was inward bound, in a narrow part of
the channel about half-way between Chatham and Sheerness. Various
accounts of the mishap are current, but whichever of the vessels
was responsible for the bad steering or neglect of the ordinary
rules of the road, it is certain that theFrauenlobwas cut into by the stem of
thePole Staron her port bow,
and sank almost across the channel. ThePole
Starswung alongside her after the collision, and
very soon afterwards sank in an almost parallel position. Tugs and
steamboats carrying a number of naval officers and the port
authorities are about to proceed to the scene of the accident, and
if, as seems probable, there is no chance of raising the vessels,
steps will be at once taken to blow them up. In the present state
of our foreign relations such an obstruction directly across the
entrance to one of our principal warports is a national danger, and
will not be allowed to remain a moment longer than can be
helped.”
“ Sept. 2.
“ An extraordinarydénoûementhas followed the collision in the Medway reported in my
telegram of last night, which renders it impossible to draw any
other conclusion than that the affair is anything but an accident.
Everything now goes to prove that the whole business was
premeditated and was the result of an organised plot with the
object of ‘bottling up’ the numerous men-of-war that are now being
hurriedly equipped for service in Chatham Dockyard. In the words of
Scripture, ‘An enemy hath done this,’ and there can be very little
doubt as to the quarter from which the outrage was engineered. It
is nothing less than an outrage to perpetrate what is in reality an
overt act of hostility in a time of profound peace, however much
the political horizon may be darkened by lowering warclouds. We are
living under a Government whose leader lost no time in announcing
that no fear of being sneered at as a ‘Little Englander’ would
deter him from seeking peace and ensuring it by a reduction of our
naval and military armaments, even at that time known to be
inadequate to the demands likely to be made upon them if our Empire
is to be maintained. We trust, however, that even this parochially
minded statesman will lose no time in probing the conspiracy to its
depths, and in seeking instant satisfaction from those personages,
however highly placed and powerful, who have committed this outrage
on the laws of civilisation.
“ As soon as the news of the collision reached the dockyard
the senior officer at Kethole Reach was ordered by wire to take
steps to prevent any vessel from going up the river, and he at once
despatched several picket-boats to the entrance to warn in-coming
ships of the blocking of the channel, while a couple of other boats
were sent up to within a short distance of the obstruction to make
assurance doubly sure. The harbour signals ordering ‘suspension of
all movings,’ were also hoisted at Garrison Point.
“ Among other ships which were stopped in consequence of
these measures was theVan Gysen, a big steamer hailing from Rotterdam, laden, it was stated,
with steel rails for the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, which
were to be landed at Port Victoria. She was accordingly allowed to
proceed, and anchored, or appeared to anchor, just off the railway
pier at that place. Ten minutes later the officer of the watch on
board H.M.S.Medicireported
that he thought she was getting under way again. It was then pretty
dark. An electric searchlight being switched on, theVan Gysenwas discovered steaming up
the river at a considerable speed. TheMediciflashed the news to the
flagship, which at once fired a gun, hoisted the recall, and
theVan Gysen’snumber in the
international code, and despatched her steam pinnace, with orders
to overhaul the Dutchman and stop him at whatever cost. A number of
the marines on guard were sent in her with their
rifles.
“ TheVan Gysenseemed
well acquainted with the channel, and continually increased her
speed as she went up the river, so that she was within half a mile
of the scene of the accident before the steamboat came up with her.
The officer in charge called to the skipper through his megaphone
to stop his engines and to throw him a rope, as he wanted to come
on board. After pretending for some time not to understand him, the
skipper slowed his engines and said, ‘Ver vel, come ‘longside
gangway.’ As the pinnace hooked on at the gangway, a heavy iron
cylinder cover was dropped into her from the height of theVan Gysen’sdeck. It knocked the bowman
overboard and crashed into the fore part of the boat, knocking a
big hole in the port side forward. She swung off at an angle and
stopped to pick up the man overboard. Her crew succeeded in
rescuing him, but she was making water fast, and there was nothing
for it but to run her into the bank. The lieutenant in charge
ordered a rifle to be fired at theVan
Gysen