Both the Bahrenfeld and the Turpin were built in England, the former having a registry of 2,357 tons, and the latter 3,301 tons.
The first day of the new year was marked by the explosion of the British armored cruiser Natal in an east-coast port. Three hundred men of a crew numbering 700 were killed, the others escaping because they had shore leave. Not a man on board lived to tell how the explosion came. It was one of a mysterious chain that had shaken even British nerves in the early days of the war when a half dozen warcraft were blown up in home ports. The explosions were, in every instance, extremely violent, literally blowing the vessels to bits. Several of them were affirmed to have been accidental by the British admiralty, which rendered that verdict upon the Natal, but these official explanations never were convincing.
The Natal, a vessel of 3,600 tons, had but recently returned from sea service and was in good condition throughout. The explosion that rent her apart came in the quiet of the evening when the men either were sleeping or preparing for supper. Suddenly there was a crash, and the Natal was no more. Such of her hull and superstructure as had not been scattered in every direction sank beneath the surface of the water.
Just nine days later the King Edward VII, a pre-dreadnought of 16,500 tons, collided with a mine in the North Sea and soon foundered. She was a second-line ship of heavy battery and carried a crew of 777 men, all of whom were taken off before the big craft sunk. This was one of the few instances in which there was no loss of life from mine or torpedo explosions. The accident occurred at a time when the King Edward VII was accompanied by a number of other vessels, or most of the men aboard probably would have been drowned. On a warship, even more than a passenger vessel, it is impossible to carry enough boats for all. The price of defeat in a naval action inevitably is death. For this reason there was general thanksgiving in England that the crew of the battleship had been saved, even though the ship was lost.
During the month of January, 1916, three British sailing vessels and ten steamships were sunk by enemy warships, with a respective tonnage of 153 and 31,481. Four hundred and ten lives were lost. Three steamships struck mines and foundered in the same month, having a tonnage of 3,357. Two persons died in the trio of accidents.
The Amiral Charner, an old but serviceable French armored cruiser of 4,680 tons, was torpedoed in the Mediterranean near Syria on February 8, 1916. She went down within a few minutes, although about a hundred men managed to reach the lifeboats and rafts. The weather was bitterly cold, and only one survivor lived to bring the news. He was picked up on a raft with fourteen dead companions and told an incoherent story that bore little relation to the truth. But it was only too easy to guess what had happened.
During the early period of the war the French navy escaped the heavy blows that fell upon the British, partly because Germany concentrated on her larger antagonist's navy, and partly due to the fact that the British ships were nearly all engaged in the Atlantic, while the French confined themselves more especially to the Mediterranean. With the opening of operations at the Dardanelles and the coming of German submarines the losses of the French sea forces began to grow rapidly. But they held the Mediterranean against all attacks.
The Arethusa, which torpedoed the Blücher after she had been put out of action by the Lion in that famous fight, collided with a mine near the east coast of England on February 14, 1916. She went down with a loss of ten men, neighboring vessels doing notable rescue work. The Arethusa was a cruiser of 3,600 tons and had taken an active part in all of the work that fell to the British fleet. She was one of the pet ships of the navy, having a reputation for speed and luck that made her name familiar to readers the world over. A half dozen brushes with the enemy had found her well up in the fighting line, and she was said by sailormen to have a charmed existence, never having been hit. But she sunk quickly after striking the mine. The passing of so gallant a ship was one of the chief developments of the month in its naval history.
The Peninsular and Oriental liner Maloja was blown up in the Channel on February 28, 1916, supposedly by a mine. The loss of life was large, 147 persons being drowned.[Back to Contents]