In spite of these precautions four of the British torpedo craft were sunk by German submarines without the former having a glimpse of their foes.
Before daybreak the battleships were back in their former stations, the American ships taking up a position to the north-east of Sandinsel, while the twenty-eight armoured British battleships directed their fire upon the Düne and East Kalbertan batteries of the same island. The destroyers were grouped into three divisions—the first to be attached to the United States ships in case of a hostile movement from North Haven; the second to lie three miles astern of the British battleships engaged in bombarding Sandinsel, so as to guard against a torpedo attack from South Haven; the third detailed to watch the mainland.
Exactly at eight in the morning the American flagship Wyoming opened the ball by planting a fifteen-inch shell fairly in the centre of the Krid Brunnen Battery. An enormous cloud of sand, smoke, and dust, mingled with heavier fragments, followed the explosion. It looked as if the magazine had been blown up, but a smart reply from the battery showed that this was not so.
The firing now became general, and the concentrated shells of the combined fleet literally' rained upon the Sandinsel forts. It seemed as if nothing could survive the terrible explosions of the heavy missiles, but with commendable pluck the German gunners stood to their task. Several of their shells struck the battleships, doing considerable damage, but the effect on board did not approach the carnage of the battle of the Galloper Sands. Nor was it to be wondered at, since the enemy had to spread their fire over a five-mile line of warships, while the latter were able to concentrate their guns upon a comparatively limited and immovable target.
In three hours from the time the Wyoming first opened fire the East Kalbertan, Krid Brunnen, and Düne batteries were silenced, and the British and American ships were able to direct their attention to the weaker West Kalbertan Battery and the torpedo flotillas sheltering between Heligoland and Sandinsel.
This they could do with comparative impunity, for with the exception of four fifteen-inch guns, mounted on the north-east side of Heligoland, the defensive armament consisted of lighter guns intended for use against torpedo craft.
The large guns were soon out of action. The hail of heavy shells knocked vast quantities of rock from the soft sandstone cliffs. In half an hour the damage was greater than the erosion of half a century. The emplacements, undermined by the fall of rock, were soon unmasked and rendered untenable.
But the German destroyers were not going to be sunk in harbour. Profiting by the haze of burnt cordite that enveloped the bombarding ships, thirty of these swift craft slipped out of South Haven. It was a forlorn hope, and nothing short of destruction awaited them, but before the end they meant to strike a heavy blow for the Fatherland.
Steaming at close on thirty-five knots, the devoted craft headed straight for the nearest British battleships—a distance of four miles from the south-east of Heligoland.
More than half the intervening space was covered before the threatened attack was noticed by the British flagship. A signal was instantly made for the light cruisers and destroyers in reserve to intercept the approaching hostile craft. Already it was too late. Only the light quick-firers of the British battleships could keep the enemy at bay.