Without waiting to see the result of their attack on the Blücher, the British big ships pounded on their way after the other vessels. A devastating cyclone of shells fell upon the Derfflinger, which caught fire forward and had many guns put out of action, while the Seydlitz or the Moltke steamed on like a sheet of flame. The roar of the guns, the crash of the explosions, the thunder of the great engines of war as they romped through the seas, the flashes of fire as shells left the maws of the terrific weapons—all went to make up a scene of horror, of impressiveness. It was a battle between rival giants at giants’ distance, while simultaneously another battle was raging between the smaller cruisers and torpedo craft. There is no doubt that one reason why the Germans chose a running fight was that they hoped to be able to lure their pursuers into the minefield round about Heligoland. But, after chasing them for about a hundred miles, Admiral Beatty, realising that it was hopeless to catch them before they reached the field, turned back from the great cruisers and set his attention upon the smaller ships, seeking to turn them off, drive them down upon the British cruisers which were in hot pursuit. He did great damage amongst them, despite the difficulty of the work, there being so many ships engaged. Though many of them were very seriously mauled, they succeeded in getting to the minefield—with guns dismounted and hulls battered.
About 11 o’clock the Lion had her speed reduced very considerably, owing to a chance shot that had caught her in the bows and damaged her feed-tank, putting her port engines out of action. Admiral Beatty therefore changed his flag to a destroyer, and, later, to the Princess Royal, which then took the foremost place in the fight. The Lion, whose starboard engine also got out of working order later, and had only one engine working, was shielded by the Tiger, which pluckily placed herself in the way of the enemy’s fire, and in doing so lost half a dozen of her men, though she gave the Germans a good battering in return. The Lion was then taken in tow by the Indomitable, and eventually taken into port. An eye-witness on the Tiger told of the part the Tiger played in this thrilling action between big ships:
“On the gun-deck, where I was stationed, you could hardly see one another for the smoke, but our chaps stuck it like Britons. They did work hard; but they did it with a good heart, and I believe at one time our ship was engaging three of the enemy’s ships. Four of their ships were on fire, but they could still keep on firing, and I believe one or two of our poor chaps who got on deck to have a look at them did not live long. I myself was very anxious to go on deck and have a look, but I am glad I did not. I saw the start, and then went below. We lost ten of our chaps, and several were wounded.
“A message came down from the deck, ‘All hands on deck to see the enemy’s ship sink,’ and in less than five minutes after we could see nothing of her, and our destroyers drew near to pick up survivors.
“Our ship at one time stood all the brunt of the firing, as we sheltered the leading ship in our line when she got winged. Still, thank goodness for everything, we are still alive and happy. I do not think they will want to meet us again.”
Meanwhile, the Blücher was living her last moments. Suddenly, while the Germans’ guns were pounding away, there slipped from behind the bigger ships the saucy Arethusa, intent on finishing the work thus well begun. The Blücher, being wounded almost to the death, had no way upon her, and offered a fine mark to torpedo. Commodore Tyrwhitt, of the Arethusa, knowing this, gave instructions, and, as the Blücher fired her remaining guns in rapid succession, a couple of torpedoes sped through the seas towards her. The second caught her amidships, exploded, and rent a great gap in her. Listing already, she now simply heeled over “like a tin can filled with water,” as one eye-witness put it.
It was a dramatic moment, crowded with heroism. Her flag was still flying, and her men were crying, “Hoch! Hoch!” as they lined the side of the vessel, ready to jump clear. From the Arethusa there came the cry of “Jump!” and almost at the same time hundreds of men leaped into the water, most of them equipped with inflated rubber lifebelts, which kept them afloat until the boats lowered by the English picked them up. While the British tars were employed in this humane work there swung out from Heligoland an airship and a seaplane, which hovered over the rescuing boats and dropped bombs. Such methods naturally aroused the anger of the British, who promptly, for their own sakes, had to give up the work of rescue, and leave many struggling Germans to find death when they might have had life.
The Indomitable, before she took the Lion in tow, had her share of the fighting, as had the other battle cruisers. After having tackled the Seydlitz, she was attacked by a Zeppelin which dropped a bomb about forty yards away from her bridge. The Indomitable gave her a taste of shrapnel, as did the Tiger, and she cleared off. Then a torpedo was launched at the Indomitable by the Blücher; but the speed of the British ship saved her.
In addition to the Blücher sunk, other ships suffered considerable damage, as we have seen. Previously one of them had been engaged by the light cruiser Aurora, which opened a terrific fire upon her. The first shot carried the midship funnel clean away, and others, poured in rapidly, swept the decks and battered her hull, so that she was soon in a deplorable condition and was fleeing at top speed for the safety of harbour. Only the proximity of the minefield and the accident to the Lion “deprived the British fleet of a greater victory.” It was not until the foremost cruiser, the Derfflinger, was within half an hour’s run of the mined area that Admiral Beatty gave up the chase, well pleased with the work that had been done.
It had been a great fight and a brilliant victory; it had shown that the British Navy was true to its traditions, that it could fight as well as exert silent pressure upon the foe; that the commanders were fearless men, and that the men behind the guns knew how to handle their great weapons. The feature that stands out most prominently is the accuracy of the British fire as contrasted with that of the German; in the latter case shots seemed to fall anywhere but on the British ships, as is clear when the only casualties were seventeen men wounded on the Lion, one officer and nine men killed, and two officers and eight men wounded on the Tiger; and four men killed and one man wounded on the Meteor, which ship was attacked by the Zeppelin, while none of the ships were at all badly damaged, and would be ready for sea again in a few days.