The Battle of the Falkland Islands, Before and After

by Henry Edmund Harvey Spencer-Cooper

Eyes unappalled by all the myriad stars

That wheel around the great white throne of God."

—Alfred Noyes (Drake).

The naval man is often confronted with the question: "What does it feel like to be in an action at sea?" This is undoubtedly very difficult to answer in anything approaching an adequate manner. There are various reasons for hesitancy in reply. Broadly speaking, the answer depends on two main factors, environment and temperament, but there are many minor points depending on the experience, education, and character of the man in question that at the same time vitally affect it. An attempt to generalise, therefore, is sure to be open to criticism. It is consequently with much diffidence that the following ideas are set forth, in the hope that they may assist the landsman to appreciate, in some slight degree, the various points of view of the officers and men who fight in our warships.

There is obviously a wide difference in the outlook, and consequently in the working of the mind, of the man behind a gun, or in any other position where he can see and hear how matters are progressing, and the man buried in the bowels of the ship, who is stoking, working machinery, or engaged in the supply of ammunition. When once the action has begun, the former will probably never give a moment's thought to his own safety or that of the ship he is in, whilst the latter, during any intervals that may occur in his work, can only think of how things are going with his ship. Lastly, there is a very divergent view between the man who knows he is going into a battle such as that fought off the Falkland Islands, where our ships possessed a marked superiority, and the man who was present, say, at Coronel, where the conditions were reversed.

During an action, the captain of a man-of-war is usually in the conning-tower, where he is surrounded by several inches of steel. A good all-round view is obtained through a slit between the roof and the walls. From this point of vantage he can communicate with the gunnery control positions, the gun positions, engine-rooms, torpedo-rooms, and, in fact, with every portion of the complex machine represented by a modern warship. Having spent a number of years at sea, he has frequently pictured to himself what a naval engagement would be like, but it is very problematical whether he has ever taken the trouble to analyse what his own feelings would be; in any case, his imaginations were probably both far from the reality. When approaching the scene of action he most likely gives a passing thought to his kith and kin, but his responsibility will be too great to admit of his feelings taking hold of him, and his thoughts will afterwards be concentrated entirely on the work in hand. During the action he is watching every movement with the utmost keenness, giving a curt order where necessary as he wipes from his face the salt water splashed up by a short projectile. His nerves and even his muscles are strung up to a high pitch of tensity, and he loses himself altogether in working out the problem before him.

The gunnery officer in the control position on the foremast is, of course, in a much more exposed position; without any armour protection to speak of. Doubtless there flashes across his mind a hope that he will come through without being picked off by a stray shot. The thoughts of the men with him, and those of the men working the range-finders, who also have practically no protection, will probably be very similar to his. But when approaching the enemy, all their attention is needed to acquire as much information as possible, in order to get an idea of his approximate course and speed. Later, all their faculties are exercised in determining the corrections to be made to the sights of their guns as regards range and deflection, so as to hit the enemy, and in giving the orders to fire.

The navigation officer, notebook in hand, is with the captain in the conning-tower, and his thoughts are not far different. His attention is riveted on the course of the ship and any impending manœuvre that he may presume to be imminent or advisable. In some of the older ships, where the quartermaster steers from the conning-tower, his observation is often made more irksome by salt-water spray getting into his eyes and preventing him from seeing the compass clearly.

With the commander and others who may be below in the ammunition passages in the depths of the ship, the one thought obsessing the mind to the exclusion of almost everything else will be: "What is happening, and how are we getting on?" Passing up ammunition is no sinecure; it is invariably a warm job down below. Stripped to the waist, hard at it, and perspiring freely, many a joke is cracked in much the same spirit as inspires Tommy in the trenches. Now and again a bit of news comes down and is passed along like lightning from mouth to mouth. For example, in one case a shell hits one of our ship's funnels, and it has gone by the board with a frightful din, as if hell were suddenly let loose; the news is passed down to the commander in the ammunition passage, to which he cheerily replies: "That's all right; we have plenty left, haven't we?" Again, a shell strikes the hull of the ship, making her quiver fore and aft and almost stop her roll; naturally the effect of this is felt down below far more than on deck, and though some may wonder whether it has struck on the waterline or not, there is merely a casual remark that the enemy is shooting a bit better.