The König Wilhelm carried away everything from the point where she struck the Grosser Kurfürst to the stern, “ripping off the armour plating like the skin of an orange.” The bowsprit of the König Wilhelm fouled the rigging of the ill-starred ship and brought down the mizzen top-gallant-mast on the quarter-deck, and the quarter boats were swept away “like strips of paper.”
The doomed iron-clad went down in seven minutes; on board there was scarcely time left the officers and crew to think much less to act with effect. The boats that had not been smashed could hardly be got into the water; the hammocks had been stowed in some unusual place, so that it was useless to attempt to get at them, and thus a very perfect means of escape was cut off from the 280 poor fellows that were drowned.
THE “KÖNIG WILHELM” ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.
The experience of the first lieutenant when the vessel was going down under the very eyes of a number of people on shore is interesting in the extreme. He felt himself sucked in, and describes a sensation of enormous pressure on his ribs, as if the water were forcing him down. Then he came across another column of water, which as promptly vomited him up to the surface again, when he caught hold of a spar, and saved his life. A dreadful fate befell some thirty unfortunate sailors, who, in spite of the commands and entreaties of the boatswain, who was standing on the forecastle, threw themselves over the bows, and endeavoured to swim away. But the sinking ship was too fast for them, and they were caught in the netting which is stretched under the jibboom, and, thus entangled, were carried down with the ship. The disabled König Wilhelm was almost immediately towed into Portsmouth for repairs.[59]
Dover is by no means so generally known as many less interesting places on the south coast, for the larger number of those who depart for or arrive from the Continent usually pass it by. It has been often incidentally mentioned in these pages, but no description of its special attractions has yet been given.
It is situated not far from the South Foreland, in the extreme south-east corner of Kent, on the narrowest part of the British Channel, and only some twenty miles from the opposite coast of France. Hence it is the port for steamers crossing to Calais on the Continental service, a trip usually made in about one hour and three-quarters. If the reader should cross on the now-famous Calais-Douvres, the luxurious and easy-riding twin vessel, he will hardly require the advice relative to the mal de mer contained in a previous chapter. Dover, though comparatively little used as a watering-place, possesses excellent accommodation for visitors—bathing-machines, and all the usual paraphernalia of such places. Its grand hotel, “The Lord Warden,” is second to none in England, and has sheltered scores of crowned heads and coroneted aristocrats, as well as the less distinguished, though perhaps equally worthy, Jones, Brown, Smith, and Robinson.
On the eastern side of the town stands that elevated and noble fortress the Castle, of which some description has already been given. A short distance from it the chalk cliff rises 370 feet above the sea, and hard by stands a beautiful piece of brass ordnance, 24 feet in length, which bears the name of “Queen Elizabeth’s Pocket Pistol,” and was presented to her Majesty by the States of Holland. It is said to carry a 12-lb. ball to a distance of seven miles. It is curiously adorned with a variety of devices, typifying the blessings of peace and the horrors of war. On its breech is the following motto in Dutch, which, freely translated, signifies:—
“O’er hill and dale I throw my ball,
Breaker my name of mound and wall.”