The Hawke, a cruiser of 7350 tons, with an armament of two 9.2–in., ten 6–in., twelve 6–pdr., and five 3–pdr. guns, plus two 18–in. submerged torpedo-tubes, was characterized by some of those in the Service as an unlucky ship. She had collided with the White Star liner Olympic when that vessel was on her maiden voyage, an incident deemed quite sufficient to justify sinister prophecies of an untimely end. On that occasion she lost her ram, which was replaced by a straight stem. On the 15th October, 1914, when the war was only a little over two months old, she was torpedoed by U 29, with the loss of some three hundred officers and men. Her enemies were subsequently decorated with the Iron Cross at the hands of the Crown Princess.
H.M.S. Theseus, a vessel of the same class which was patrolling with the Hawke in northern waters at the time, was attacked first, but managed to escape. The submarine then aimed at the Hawke, hitting her amidships on the starboard side aft of the fore funnel, and probably blowing up the magazine, as in the case of the Pathfinder. She settled very rapidly, “at God knows what angle,” according to an eye-witness. She had nearly a hundred watertight doors, but even they can buckle and jam, and are not explosive-proof. When the order was given to abandon ship a few of the crew managed to get into one of the boats, while about forty others scrambled on to a raft. Commander Bernhard Pratt-Barlow was of the company. “There are too many on this raft,” he remarked, “I will swim to another.” He dived in, but was never seen again. It was merely prolonging the agony for most of those who remained. Before night many of the poor fellows had succumbed to exposure and the bitter cold. After being on the raft for twenty-three hours the survivors were picked up by a destroyer, and after recovery proceeded to Portsmouth for a new kit. The last seven words epitomize the splendid spirit of the British Navy.
The Hermes, an old cruiser used as a sea-plane-carrying ship, was sunk in the Straits of Dover in October 1914, while returning from Dunkirk. She was the victim of two torpedoes fired by a U-boat. The sea was choppy, which may account for the submarine’s escape, for she was not seen. As the Hermes was near the warships engaged in bombarding the Dunes in support of the Belgians, it is more than likely that the enemy vessel had been hopeful of catching larger fry, an expectation which did not materialize. One sailor who endeavoured to make himself more or less comfortable on an upturned table was asked if he was training for the next Derby, while two fellows in similar straits informed their friends in the water that they were Oxford and Cambridge. The Hermes must have been what is called a ‘matey’ ship. The majority of her company were saved.
Another loss to the Navy in 1914 was the Niger, a torpedo gunboat built in 1892 and sister ship to the Speedy, mined on the 3rd September.
The little vessel of 810 tons was torpedoed while on patrol duty by the first U-boat which succeeded in dealing destruction in the Downs. Despite a high wind and a heavy sea, all the officers and seventy-seven men were saved, thanks in no small measure to the efforts of three Deal boats and the fact that many of the bluejackets were wearing life-saving collars. The submarine was seen approaching from the direction of South Sand Head Lightship, but as the Niger was anchored she was an easy prey. At the moment of impact the wireless operator was actually sending the S O S signal. When the explosion occurred Lieutenant-Commander A. T. Muir was on the navigation bridge, which, despite severe injuries, he vacated only after every other person had left the sinking vessel.
The gunboat was struck abaft the foremast. Although the bow was soon under water, she kept afloat for quite twenty minutes, probably because orders had been given for the watertight doors to be closed. One poor fellow was lugged through one of the portholes; another scrambled aboard after he had been rescued, hauled down the flag, and returned to the boat.
The torpedoing of the Formidable was an inauspicious omen for 1915. This, the fourth ship to bear the name of one of Hawke’s prizes in the battle of Quiberon Bay, was a pre-Dreadnought of 15,000 tons, armed with four 12–in. and twelve 6–in. guns, twenty-six smaller weapons, and four submerged torpedo-tubes. She was encountering a south-west gale in the Channel at 2.20 a.m. on New Year’s Day when a torpedo struck her abaft the starboard magazine and abreast of No. 1 stokehold. The Formidable was the first victim of a submarine attack in the darkness of night. While boats were being got away, and chairs, tables, and other floating articles thrown overboard for use as life-savers, a torpedo exploded on her port side. Captain Loxley, puffing at a cigarette, gave orders from the bridge as coolly and collectedly as though the Formidable was making her way to Portsmouth Harbour on an even keel in the piping times of peace. “Into the water with you! She’s going!” he sang out. “Good-bye, lads. Every man for himself, and may God help you all!” He went down with his vessel and as goodly a company of sea-dogs as ever trod the deck of a British battleship. Over five hundred officers and men were coffined in the Formidable or drowned in attempting to get away.[[23]] The loss of this useful, if obsolescent, vessel was severely criticized by Admiral Lord Charles Beresford.[[24]] He commented on the fact that the squadron of which the battleship was a unit had started from port with destroyers and afterward sent them back, also that the ship had slackened speed in an area known to be infested with submarines.
Although it was announced that the battleship Russell struck a mine in the Mediterranean, the Germans claimed that she was sunk by one of their U-boats. This was the second pre-Dreadnought and the third flagship to pay the price of Admiralty during the war. The Russell, named after one of six famous admirals, was commissioned in 1903, and completed her career on the 27th April, 1916. She carried four 12–in., twelve 6–in., ten 12–pdr., and two 3–pdr. guns, and four torpedo-tubes. Although Rear-Admiral S. R. Fremantle, M.V.O., the captain, twenty-four other officers, and 676 men were saved, over 100 of her complement were reported as missing.
Of the five capital ships lost by Britain in the Dardanelles campaign, the Ocean and the Irresistible were lost by mines or torpedoed from the shore, the Goliath was torpedoed in a destroyer attack, and the Triumph and the Majestic were submarined. On the 22nd May, 1915, the periscope of a U-boat was sighted from the battleship Prince George. A couple of rounds made the submersible take cover. That was the first occasion on which enemy underwater craft had put in an appearance in the vicinity of the Gallipoli peninsula. Three days later the Swiftsure was on the verge of being attacked, but her gunners proved too wide-awake and drove off the enemy. A little later the submarine discharged a torpedo at the Vengeance, and missed. On the 26th the enemy was seen again, escaped, and plugged two or three torpedoes into the Triumph, lying stationary off the now famous, or infamous, Gaba Tepe. Her nets were down, but the weapons went through them with almost as much ease as a circus clown jumps through a hoop covered with tissue-paper. Henceforth devotees of this form of protection had little to say. The battleship disappeared in fifteen minutes, fortunately without a heavy roll of casualties. Three officers and fifty-three of her considerable company were lost. Like the Swiftsure, her sister ship, the Triumph was built for the Chilian Government and purchased by Britain.
An enemy submarine exacted another toll on the following day, when the Majestic, one of the oldest battleships on active service, was sunk while supporting the troops against an attack by the Turks. Within four minutes of the explosion, says a member of the French Expeditionary Force who witnessed the catastrophe, the Majestic turned completely over and went down. “It was a terrible moment,” he adds, “but it was also sublime when 600 men, facing death mute and strong, were thrown into the sea, covered and caught in the torpedo nets, which ensnared them like an immense cast-net among the gigantic eddies and the profound sobs of their dear annihilated battleship. I shall never forget that infernal instant when submarines, aeroplanes, cannons, and quick-firing guns dealt death around me. And yet this vision only lasted the space of a flash of lightning, for we too looked death in the face, and in our own ship’s boats we took part in the finest rescue that the palette of an artist ever represented.”