The Blocking of Zeebrugge

by Alfred Francis Blakeney Carpenter

CHAPTER III

THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE ATTACK.

A few seconds before the schedule time for the last alteration of course—designed to take us alongside the outer wall—the smoke screen, which had been drifting northwards before the new wind, suddenly cleared. Barely three hundred yards distant, dead ahead of us, appeared a long low dark object which was immediately recognised as the Mole itself with the lighthouse at its extremity. We had turned up heading direct for the six-gun battery exactly as arranged in the plan. Those who know aught of navigation will realise how far this was a fluke—probably the various errors in compass direction, allowance for tide, etc., had exactly cancelled one another. Course was altered immediately to the southwestward and speed was increased to the utmost.

The Mole battery opened fire at once; our own guns, under the direction of Commander E. O. B. S. Osborne, replied with the utmost promptitude. The estimated distance at which we passed the Mole battery was two hundred and fifty yards off the eastern gun, gradually lessening to fifty yards off the western gun. It was truly a wonderful sight. The noise was terrific and the flashes of the Mole guns seemed to be within arm's length. Of course it was, to all intents and purposes, impossible for the Mole guns to miss their target. They literally poured projectiles into us. In about five minutes we had reached the Mole, but not before the ship had suffered a great amount of damage to both matériel and personnel.

DIAGRAMMATIC SKETCH OF THE ATTACK.
Drawn by Charies De Lacy from details supplied by the Author.
A—H.M.S. Vindictive
B—H.M.S. Daffodil
C—H.M.S. Iris
D—Coastal Motor Boats
E—Steam pinnace
F—Motor dinghey
G—Submarine C3
H—S.S. Brussels
I—German destroyers
J—To Blankenberghe
K—Motor launches
L—Entanglement net boom
M—H.M.S. Phoebe
N—H.M.S. North Star
O—Position of approach channel
P—Rescue craft
Q—Rescue craft
R—H.M.S. Iphigenia
S—H.M.S. Intrepid
T—H.M.S. Thetis
U—Trenches on Mole
V—Trenches ashore
W—H.M.S. Warwick
X—The barge boom
Y—The Canal
Z—German batteries

Running the Gantlet

Looked at from the view of a naval officer it was little short of criminal, on the part of the Mole battery, that the ship was allowed to reach her destination. Everything was in favour of the defence as soon as we had been sighted. Owing to the change of wind our special arrangements for covering the battery with smoke had failed in spite of the magnificent work of our small smoke vessels which, unsupported and regardless of risk, had laid the screen close to the foot of the wall, that is to say, right under the muzzles of the guns. From the moment when we were first sighted until arriving alongside the Mole the battery guns had a clear target, illuminated by star shell, of a size equal to half the length of the lighthouse extension itself.

To my mind the chief reasons for our successful running of the gantlet were twofold, firstly, the fact that we were so close, and secondly, the splendid manner in which our guns' crews stuck to their work. With regard to the former, a longer range would have entailed more deliberate firing, and this in turn would have given time for more deliberate choice of point of aim. A few projectiles penetrating the engine or boiler rooms, or holing us at the water-line, would have settled the matter. The range being so short one can conjecture that the German gunners, realising that they could not miss, pumped ammunition into us at the utmost speed of which their guns were capable without regard to the particular damage which they were likely to cause. Their loss of serenity, due in the first place to the novel circumstances of the case, must have been considerably augmented by the fact that our own projectiles were hitting the wall near the gun muzzles—it was too much to hope that we should actually obtain any hits on the guns themselves.

The petty officer at one of our six-inch guns, when asked afterwards what ranges he fired at, said that he reckoned he opened fire at about two hundred yards and he continued till close to the Mole. "How close?" he was asked. "Reckoning from the gun muzzle," he replied, "I should say it was about three feet!"

Gun-fire from the Mole

One can picture the situation as seen from the Mole itself. A hostile vessel suddenly looming out of the fog at point-blank range, the intense excitement which resulted, the commencement of fire, the bursting of shell on the wall, the ardent desire to hit something as rapidly and as often as possible, the natural inclination to fire at the nearest object, namely, that part of the vessel on their own level, and the realisation that in a few moments the guns would no longer bear on the target. One can imagine the thoughts that were uppermost in their minds, "Hit her, smash her, pump it in, curse those guns of hers, don't lose a second of time, blow her to bits!" One cannot blame those gunners. To use a war-time expression, "They had the wind up." We had counted on that, we had concentrated all our efforts at "putting the wind up." Yet if anybody had seriously suggested that a ship could steam close past a shore battery in these modern days of gunnery he would have been laughed to scorn. Yet it was easy. The reason is not far to seek.

Those who worship matériel have followed a false god. The crux of all fighting lies with the personnel—a fact borne out again and again on this particular night just as throughout past history. If the German gunners had been superhuman this tale would not have been told, but human nature, reckoned with by the attackers, was on our side; the initiative was ours.

The material damage was very great, but, though it may sound paradoxical, of not much importance. The upper works and upper deck of the ship received the brunt of it. The most serious matter was the damage to our gangways. Several were shot away and many others damaged beyond further usefulness and, so far as could be observed at the time, only four were left us for the work in hand. Two heavy shell penetrated the ship's side below the upper deck. One passed in just beneath the foremost flame-thrower hut and burst on impact. The other came through within a few feet of the first and wrecked everything in its vicinity. Two other heavy shell came through the screen door to the forecastle and placed one of the howitzer guns out of action. The funnels, ventilators, bridges, chart-house, and all such were riddled through and through.

The damage to the personnel was exceedingly serious. Orders had been given that the storming parties should remain below, under cover, until the ship arrived alongside. The number of personnel in exposed positions was to be limited mainly to those manning the guns, rocket apparatus, and flame-throwers. The senior officers of the storming parties, however, stationed themselves in the most handy position for leading and directing the assault, with the result that they were exposed to the full blast of the hurricane fire from the Mole battery. Military officers had always acted in a similar manner whatever their instructions might be. One cannot help feeling that in any fighting service, where discipline is based on leadership rather than on mere driving force, officers will do the same thing. Captain Halahan, commanding the naval storming forces, who had repeatedly told me this was to be his last fight, was shot down and killed at the outset. Commander Edwards, standing near him on the gangway deck, was also shot down and completely incapacitated. Colonel Elliot, commanding the Marine storming forces, and his second-in-command, Major Cordner, were killed on the bridge, where they had taken up a commanding position in full view of the gangway deck. Many others were killed or wounded. The death of so many brave men was a terrible blow. Nobody knew better than they the tremendous risk attached to their actions—the pity of it was that they should not have lived to see the success for which they were so largely responsible.

Arrival at the Mole

At one minute past midnight the ship actually arrived alongside the Mole, one minute late on schedule time, having steamed alongside at sixteen knots speed. The engines were immediately reversed at full speed and the ship bumped the Mole very gently on the specially constructed fender fitted on the port bow.

The conning position in the flame-thrower hut was well chosen, our heads being about five feet above the top of the Mole wall. We had previously devoted many hours to studying photographs of the Mole with the idea of recognising objects thereon. Our aerial confrères had photographed every portion of the Mole from almost every conceivable angle with both ordinary and stereoscopic cameras. We had also had picture post-cards and other illustrations at our disposal. Though none of us had ever actually seen the Mole itself we felt pretty sure of being able to recognise any portion of it immediately. In that we were over-confident. The smoke, the intermittent glare and flashes, the alternating darkness and the unceasing rain, added to the disturbance of one's attention caused by the noise and the explosion of shell, rendered observation somewhat difficult. As far as we could see we were to the westward of our desired position. The engines were, therefore, kept at full speed astern and the ship, aided by the three-knot tide running to the eastward, rapidly drifted in that direction. When sufficient sternway had been gathered the engines were put to full speed ahead to check her. A low building was then observed on the Mole abreast the ship, but it was not recognised immediately as the northeastern shed (No. 3), which we had expected to appear much larger. The distance in the uncertain light was also very deceptive, the building in question appearing to be situated within a few feet of the outer wall, whereas it must have been at least forty-five yards away.

But time was pressing. Our main diversion had certainly commenced, but at all costs we must have it fully developed before the blockships arrived at twenty minutes past midnight. The order was therefore given to let go the starboard anchor. A voice tube, for this purpose, led from the flame-thrower hut to the cable deck. The order was certainly not given sotto voce. But the noise at this time was terrific. I could not be certain whether the order was received as no answer was heard in reply. Certainly the anchor was not let go. Meanwhile the engines were ordered at full speed astern and full speed ahead alternately to keep the ship in position; the manner in which these orders were carried out by the engine-room staff, under the command of Engineer Lieutenant-Commander Bury, was admirable. No reply being forthcoming to questions as to the delay in anchoring, Rosoman left the conning tower and went below to investigate. The din had now reached a crescendo. Every gun that would bear appeared to be focused on our upper works, which were being hit every few seconds. Our guns in the fighting-top were pouring out a continuous hail of fire in reply. One could aptly say that we could hardly hear ourselves think.

At last I had news from the cable deck—this was a great relief as I feared that the two heavy shell which burst between decks had killed all the anchoring party. The starboard anchor had jammed somewhere. It had been previously lowered to the water's edge and nothing was holding the cable, but it refused to budge. The port anchor was, therefore, dropped at the foot of the wall and the ship allowed to drop astern until a hundred yards of cable had been veered. The cable was then secured.

The ship immediately swung bodily out from the Mole. With the helm to starboard she swung in again, but with her bows so tight against the Mole, and her stern so far out, that the foremost gangways just failed to reach the top of the wall. With the helm amidships the ship lay parallel to the wall, but no gangways would reach. With the helm to port the ship again swung away from the Mole. This was an exceedingly trying situation. Everything now depended upon the Daffodil (Lieutenant H. G. Campbell).

It will be remembered that, as a result of the towing hawser having parted, and in consequence of our increase of speed when running alongside, the Iris and Daffodil had been left behind. We knew that whatever happened we could absolutely depend on Gibbs[[1]] and Campbell making short work of any surmountable difficulty, and our trust was not misplaced. They must have cut off a considerable corner to have arrived as early as they did. The Iris steamed past us at her utmost speed, which was very slow, and went alongside the Mole about a hundred yards ahead of Vindictive exactly as laid down in the Plan. Of her more anon.

[[1]] Commander Valentine F. Gibbs.

After we had been struggling against our difficulties alongside for about five minutes Daffodil suddenly appeared steaming straight for our foremast in a direction perpendicular to the Mole. Campbell pushed her nose against us, hawsers were passed to his vessel, and he shoved us bodily alongside the Mole, exactly in accordance with the Plan. Really he might have been an old stager at tug-master's work, pursuing his vocation in one of our own harbours, judging by the cool manner in which he carried out his instructions to the letter.

Grappling the Mole

Immediately the two foremost gangways reached the wall they were lowered until they rested on it. No other gangways were then available. The order was at once passed to "Storm the Mole."

Owing to the light wind of the preceding day we had not expected to find any swell against the wall. The scend of the sea, however, was so heavy and so confused, as each wave rebounded, that the ship was rolling considerably. Every time she rolled over to port there was a heavy jarring bump which was probably caused by the bilge on the port side of the ship crashing down on the step of the Mole some few feet below the surface. The whole ship was shaking violently at each bump and rolling so heavily that we were greatly apprehensive of sustaining vital damage below the water-line.

The Stokes gun batteries had already been bombing the Mole abreast the ship. The flame-throwers should also have helped to clear the way for our storming parties. The order had been given to switch on the foremost flame-thrower. Unfortunately the pipe leading from the containers to the hut had been severed somewhere below by a shell explosion. This was not noticed before the order was obeyed, with the result that many gallons of highly inflammable oil were squirted over the decks. One hesitates to think what would have happened if this oil had become ignited.

Inferno

Incidentally the actual nozzle of this flame-thrower was shot away just after the order to switch on had been given by the officer in charge, Lieutenant A. L. Eastlake, attached R.E., who held the proud position of being the sole representative of the military on board the attacking vessels. Eastlake was the only other occupant of the hut and I don't think he will easily forget the brief period that we experienced in that decidedly uncomfortable erection. Sparks were flying about inside, but somehow, at the time, one did not connect that pyrotechnic display with the fact that they emanated from the medley of missiles passing through it. Curiously enough neither of us was hit, but our clothing sadly needed repair—an experience which was common enough in shore fighting, but unusual afloat where the missiles are generally rather too large to pass through one's headgear without removing one's head en route.

The other flame-thrower fared no better. Commander Brock was in charge. He lit the ignition apparatus and passed down the order to "switch on." The whole outfit of oil ran its course, but unfortunately at the very commencement the ignition apparatus was shot away, with the result that the instrument was converted into an oil thrower instead of emitting a flame.

Lieutenant-Commander B. F. Adams, leading a party of seamen, stormed the Mole immediately the gangways were placed. The only two gangways which could reach the Mole were, to say the least of it, very unsteady platforms. Their inboard ends were rising and falling several feet as the ship rolled; the outer ends were see-sawing and sliding backwards and forwards on the top of the wall. My own personal impression at the time was that these gangways were alternately lifting off and resting on the wall, but apparently that was not so. The fact remains, however, that the run across these narrow gangways with a thirty-foot drop beneath to certain death was not altogether inviting.

The first act of the advance party, in accordance with the instructions, was to secure the ship to the wail by means of the grappling anchors. A great struggle to do this was undertaken. The foremost grappling anchors only just reached the Mole. Some men sat on the top of the wall and endeavoured to pull the grapnels over the top as they were lowered from the ship. These grapnels, by virtue of the use for which they were designed, were heavy. That fact, combined with the continuous rolling of the ship, made it exceedingly difficult to control them. Rosoman and a party of men on board joined in the struggle, but a heavy lurch of the ship broke up the davit on which the foremost grappling iron was slung and the latter fell between the ship and the wall.

Adams' party were followed out in great style by the remainder of the seamen storming parties led by their surviving officers, and then by the Marines. I propose to tell later of what occurred on the Mole itself in so far as I have been able to gather from the parties concerned.

Work of the Daffodil

As soon as it was clear that the grappling anchors had failed us owing to the heavy swell there was no other alternative than to order Daffodil to carry on pushing throughout the proceedings.

A curious incident which has never been explained occurred just previously. Some individual in Vindictive had hailed Daffodil and called to them to shove off, "By whose orders?" came the response shouted by Campbell from Daffodil's bridge. "Captain Halahan's orders," was the reply. As a matter of fact poor gallant Halahan had been killed some ten minutes earlier. "I take my orders from Captain Carpenter," shouted Campbell. "He's dead," was shouted back. "I don't believe it," responded Campbell, and incidentally he was right, though I have not the faintest idea what he based his belief on. As Mark Twain would have said, "the report of my death was much exaggerated." The incident was certainly curious, but of course (this for the benefit of those who, during the war, saw spies and traitors at every corner) there can only be the explanation that some poor wounded fellow must have been delirious.

Campbell had been shot in the face, but such a trifle as that did not appear to have worried him, and he continued to push the Vindictive alongside from the moment of his arrival until the whole hour and five minutes had elapsed before we left the Mole. Originally the Daffodil had been detailed to secure alongside Vindictive as soon as the latter was secured to the Mole and then to disembark her demolition parties for their work on the Mole. That part of the plan could not be carried out, however, though several of his parties climbed over her bows into Vindictive on their way to accomplish it.

The demolition charges had been stowed outside the conning tower ready for use; on the passage across we had come to the conclusion that this was a case of risking the success of the whole landing for the furtherance of a secondary object, and the charges had therefore been removed to a safer position. This change of arrangement was indeed fortunate, for the deck on both sides of the conning tower became a regular shambles during the final approach. Yeoman of Signals John Buckley, who had volunteered to take up a position outside the conning tower in readiness to fire illuminating rockets had remained at his post until killed. We found him there at the foot of his rocket tube in the morning, a splendid fellow who had been as helpful in the work of preparation as he was unflinching in the face of almost certain death. All the signalmen except one had been either killed or completely disabled, and almost every soul on the conning-tower platform had made the supreme sacrifice.

On the order being given to storm the Mole the storming parties had rushed up every available ladder to the gangway deck. At the top of the foremost ladder the men, in their eagerness to get at the enemy, were stumbling over a body. I had bent down to drag it clear when one of the men shouted: "That's Mr. Walker, sir, he's had his arm shot off." Immediately Walker, who was still conscious, heard this he waved his remaining hand to me and wished me the best of luck. This officer, Lieutenant H. T. C. Walker, survived.

The high wall, towering above our upper deck, was now protecting the hull of the ship from gun-fire; no vital damage could be sustained in that way so long as we remained alongside. The chief source of danger from which vital damage might accrue before we had completed our work at the Mole was that of the fast German motor boats stationed at Blankenberghe. The latter harbour was barely five minutes' steaming distance away, and, as the enemy would now be fully cognisant of our position, we might reasonably expect a horde of these craft to come to the attack with torpedo. It does not require much naval knowledge to realise that the difficulty of avoiding torpedo fire under such circumstances would be wellnigh insuperable. Where a torpedo craft of that description can suddenly rush in from the outer darkness a large vessel has to depend upon remaining unseen; but of course such tactics were now impossible, and, still further, a torpedo could not be avoided even if seen coming towards the ship. That we were not attacked in that manner was mainly due to the work of certain of our smaller craft specially detailed to deal with the Blankenberghe force; former experience of the latter also led us to believe that the German personnel in those boats had no stomach for a fight.

The Fight Aloft

Our guns in the fighting-top were directing a murderous fire into their special targets. Chief amongst those were the heavy gun battery at the end of the broad part of the Mole and the lighter battery on the lighthouse extension. In neither case could the enemy's guns bear on the ship, and we had the advantage of taking the former battery from the rear and giving the latter a taste of enfilading fire from its western flank. But there was another target of importance. Immediately abreast the ship a German destroyer was berthed alongside the inner wharf of the Mole only eighty yards distant from the ship. We had an uninterrupted view of the greater part of her between the two northern sheds, her bridges showing well above the ground-level of the Mole. Our guns in the fighting-top, in charge of Lieutenant Charles N. B. Rigby, R.M.A., riddled that destroyer through and through. We could see the projectiles hitting the Mole floor whenever the gun was temporarily depressed, and then shower upon shower of sparks as they tore through the destroyer's upperworks. The vessel appeared to have sunk, as very little of her upper deck could be seen, although we had such an elevated view-point, but now I think it possible that the wall protected her vitals and that she escaped complete destruction from our gun-fire.

There seems little doubt that our fighting-top was now coming in for the attention of most of the enemy guns. Presently a tremendous crash overhead followed by a cessation of our fire indicated that a heavy shell had made havoc with poor Rigby and his crew of eight men. As a matter of fact, that shell had wrecked the whole fighting-top, killed all the personnel except two gunners who were both severely wounded, and dismounted one of the guns. The only survivor who was not completely disabled—Sergeant Finch, R.M.A.—struggled out from the shambles somehow and, without a thought for his own wounds, examined the remaining gun, found it was still intact, and continued the fight single-handed. He continued to serve this gun and again did great execution until a second shell completely destroyed the remains of the top and put Finch completely out of action. The splendid work of Lieutenant Rigby and his guns' crews had been invaluable, and one cannot but attribute the complete success of our diversion very largely to these gallant men. Rigby himself had set a wonderful example; all who knew him had never doubted that he would do so. Finch survived and was afterwards voted the Victoria Cross by the men of the Royal Marines.

The Howitzers

As soon as the ship had been securely anchored the howitzer guns manned by the R.M.A., in charge of Captain Reginald Dallas-Brooks, R.M.A., commenced to bombard the targets specially assigned to them. The German batteries on the mainland were shelling our position at the Mole for all they were worth, but their efforts must have been hampered by the continuous fire of our howitzers. The presence of such weapons on board ship was, to say the least of it, most unusual. Vindictive's nature had undergone an unusual change as soon as she was secured to the Mole. Our position was known to within a few yards. Both direction and range of the enemy's batteries had been worked out beforehand for any position alongside the wall. We were, therefore, in the novel situation of being able to drop heavy howitzer shell upon the enemy's batteries less than a mile away, a decided change from ordinary battleship target practice where ranges of ten to fifteen miles were the order of the day.

The 7.5-inch howitzer gun on the forecastle could not be used. A heavy shell had burst amongst the original gun's crew and had killed or disabled them all. A second crew was sent from one of the naval six-inch guns in the battery and was just being detailed to work the howitzer when another shell killed, or disabled, all but two men. Soon after opening fire the midship 7.5-inch howitzer was damaged by another shell which killed some of the crew, but the remainder repaired the gun under great difficulty and managed to resume the firing later on. The eleven-inch howitzer on the quarter-deck was extremely well handled. This gun fired at a steady rate throughout the proceedings in spite of the darkness, the fumes, the difficulty of manhandling such large projectiles in a cramped-up space and the battering that the ship was receiving around them. The behaviour of the R.M.A. throughout was fine; they worked with a will which may have been equalled elsewhere, but which has certainly never been surpassed; the example set by Captain Brooks was altogether splendid.

Mention must be made of the pyrotechnic party, as we called them. Having located and reached the Mole ourselves, an early duty was that of indicating its extremity to the approaching blockships. For this purpose a rocket station was rigged up in my cabin below. The rocket apparatus protruded through a port in the stern of the ship and had been placed at an angle calculated to carry the rocket behind the lighthouse before bursting, so that the lighthouse would show clearly against an illuminated background. One of the party was told off for this position, instructed as to the object to be attained, and ordered to carry on according to his own judgment. I believe this man had never previously served afloat and had never been in action, but, like the rest of them, he did his bit without the slightest hesitation and, judging by results, with one hundred per cent efficiency. Others of the pyrotechnic brigade landed with the storming parties and worked the portable flame-throwers, special flares, etc., before finally attending the smoke-making apparatus and assisting with the wounded. Lieutenant Graham S. Hewett, R.N.V.R., was in command of the pyrotechnic party.

The Viaduct Explosion

A few minutes after the storming of the Mole had commenced a terrific explosion was seen away to the westward, and we guessed that the submarine party had attacked the viaduct. A seaman was standing near me at the time and brought back to me an old remark of mine, referred to on page 120, when he asked, "Was that it, sir?" The explosion presented a wonderful spectacle. The flames shot up to a great height—one mentally considered it at least a mile. Curiously enough the noise of the explosion could not be distinguished. The experiences of the submarines will be related presently.

At about 12.15 A.M. the blockships were expected to be close to the Mole, and a momentary glimpse of them was obtained as they passed close to the lighthouse on their way to the canal entrance. So far so good. We saw nothing more of the blockships and received no further news of them until the operation had been completed. Nevertheless, no news was good news under the circumstances and we felt quite confident that the blockships had not been seriously hampered by the German Mole defences. Our primary object was, therefore, attained; the diversion had been of sufficient magnitude.

Our further tasks were firstly that of continuing the diversion until the crews of the blockships had had a reasonable chance of being rescued subsequent to sinking their vessels in the canal, secondly of re-embarking our storming parties and withdrawing to seaward, and thirdly of carrying out demolition work on the Mole during our stay alongside. It will be noticed that these three tasks are not mentioned in their proper sequence of event but in their order of importance. It is obviously true that demolition work might be of assistance from the point of view of diversion, but not to a great extent when one realises that the enemy were already so animated with a desire to destroy our ship that they would hardly care one way or the other what our particular action on the Mole might be. The presence of the ship was the main diversion and so, at all costs, the ship must be kept alongside until the diversion was no longer required and until our storming parties had returned.

At about half an hour after midnight the full force of the diversion had been developed. Although the ship was still being hit continuously and the inferno showed no signs of abatement one can say that the conditions had become stabilised. As far as we could gather we could not augment our efforts, but could only carry on for the time being. So we carried on.

Being somewhat anxious as to the state of things between decks I took the opportunity of a hurried visit below. On my way down from the bridge I met Lieutenant E. Hilton-Young, R.N.V.R., our parliamentary representative. He was attired in his shirtsleeves and minus any head-gear. His right arm was bandaged. I remember that he was breaking all the accepted rules of the drill-book by smoking a large cigar as he performed his prearranged duties of supervising the foremost six-inch guns and his self-appointed duty of cheering everybody up. On enquiry he informed me that he had "got one in the arm." I heard afterwards that even when he had collapsed, he refused to, have his wound attended to, and had to be taken below by force. Eventually his right arm had to be amputated, but with his unfailing resource he did not let many hours pass by before commencing to educate himself in the art of left-handed writing.

H.M.S. VINDICTIVE'S BRIDGE AND FLAME-THROWER HUT (RIGHT).
The fighting top is shown above, and from behind, the bridge.
The conning tower is below the bridge. A large shell passed
through the hole to the right of the man in white uniform.

Every available space on the mess deck was occupied by casualties. Those who could do so were sitting on the mess stools awaiting their turn for medical attention. Many were stretched at full length on the deck, the majority being severely wounded. Some had already collapsed and were in a state of coma; I fear that many had already passed away. It was a sad spectacle indeed. Somehow, amidst all the crashing and smashing on deck, one had not realised the sacrifice that was taking place.

Scene Between Decks

During a fight at sea the personnel below know little or nothing of how things are going. This especially applies to the stokehold and engine-room personnel, who are, indeed, in an unenviable position. It applies, also, to the wounded who have been carried below. It is not difficult to imagine their feelings, especially when one considers how rapidly a vessel may sink after sustaining a vital injury. One does not need to be an advanced psychologist to understand the importance of keeping those stationed between decks supplied with information as to what is occurring on deck. So I shouted out something about everything going splendidly, the Mole being stormed, the viaduct being blown up and the blockships having passed in. The cheer that went up will live long in my memory. Those who could stand crowded round and forgot their wounds. Some of those on the deck endeavoured to sit up to ascertain the news. I did not then know that I had been reported as killed. The crowd almost barred my way in their excitement, and the question which caught my ear more than any other was, "Have we won, sir? Have we won?" just as if the whole affair had been a football match.

The medical officers and their assistants, under the direction of Staff-Surgeon McCutcheon, were working at the highest pressure. The wounded were literally pouring down every available ladder in a constant stream. Dressing stations had been improvised at intervals along the deck. The ward-room and the sick bay being the two main stations. Everything humanly possible was being done to render first-aid and to alleviate suffering. There was no lack of ready helpers. All those of the latter who could do so were bringing the wounded down. Many of the less severely wounded were attending to those others who were badly hit. A Marine with his own head bandaged up was supporting in his arms an officer who was unconscious with a terrible wound in the head, and only relaxed his hold when the officer died. The work of McCutcheon and his confrères was beyond all praise; untiring energy, consummate care, and withal real brotherly bearing characterised their actions.

The news of the blockships spread quickly, and one heard every now and then renewed outbursts of cheering. The news had reached the stokehold and did much to relieve the tension amongst the personnel in that part of the ship. A few pieces of shell had fallen into the engine room, but no damage had been done.

A return to the lower bridge showed little apparent change in the situation. Shell were still hitting us every few seconds and many casualties were being caused by flying splinters. Large pieces of the funnels and ventilators were being torn out and hurled in all directions—one wondered how much more of this battering the ship could stand. The exact nature of the various missiles and the direction from whence they came were of course unknown to us. It was afterwards suggested that the shore guns to the westward of Blankenberghe were doing much of the mischief. Certainly our position, tangential to the Mole, brought such a thing into the realm of possibility, but it would seem doubtful whether those German batteries, from which we were probably invisible, would risk hitting their own guns on the Mole from that flanking direction. However, all our guns which could fire at the enemy were fully occupied in accordance with the prearranged plan, so there was no particular object in ascertaining the position of new targets.

Anxiety for the Daffodil

Our chief anxiety at this period was the safety of Daffodil, which seemed to bear a charmed life. Vindictive's hull was amply protected by the wall itself, but Daffodil was far more exposed. As already mentioned the loss of Daffodil would almost certainly have entailed the loss of the whole of the storming parties on the Mole.