Lord Sydenham, the president of the hospital, also wrote a special letter of thanks, in which he said, "It is splendid of the readers of 'The Children's Story of the War' to have subscribed so large a sum."
Our warmest thanks are due to all who have in any way helped to make the scheme a success. We know that we shall have the unspoken gratitude of many wounded Belgians; but we did not set about this work in order to win gratitude. We wanted to be a real help to those who have helped us. We know in our hearts that we have done a little act of mercy and kindness, and that is a reward which we are all entitled to enjoy.
CHAPTER II.
THE LOSS OF THE "FORMIDABLE."
The new year opened with a naval disaster. On 31st December eight vessels of the Channel Fleet left Sheerness for a cruise in the English Channel, and by three o'clock on the morning of 1st January were crossing the fishing-ground not far from the Start Lighthouse. The ships were steaming at a moderate speed and in a single line, the rearmost ship being the Formidable, a pre-Dreadnought of 15,000 tons, and a sister ship to the Bulwark, which had been mysteriously blown up at Sheerness in the preceding November. The sea was rough, the moon was shining brightly, and a cold, piercing wind was blowing.
Soon after three o'clock the dull roar of an explosion was heard on the starboard side of the Formidable, and was followed shortly afterwards by another. The ship shook from stem to stern, and a cloud of black smoke and coal dust arose. She had been struck fore and aft by two torpedoes discharged by a German submarine. At once she began to list heavily to starboard; there were gaping holes in her side, and it was evident that she could not remain afloat very long.
There was not the slightest sign of panic on board the doomed ship. Captain Loxley, one of the ablest of our younger sailors, was on the bridge, setting an example to his crew of cool courage and utter forgetfulness of self. The water-tight doors were closed, the men were piped to quarters, and telephone bells were set ringing all over the ship to give warning of danger. Captain Loxley might easily have called upon his consorts to come to his rescue, but he knew that the submarine which had discharged the fatal torpedoes was still lurking hard by; so he signalled to his sister ships, "Stand off; submarines about."
A bugle rang out, and the men below sprang from their hammocks and rushed upon deck, some of them only half clad. They fell into rank on the sloping deck, and Captain Loxley gave his orders as calmly as though his ship were riding at anchor in harbour. He was smoking a cigarette, and his favourite old terrier Bruce was standing by his side. He was heard to say: "Steady, men; it's all right. No panic; keep cool; be British." Everything of wood that might help the men in the water was flung overboard, and finally the captain gave the order, "Every man for himself!" A survivor saw him standing with folded arms as the ship went down.
