Church clocks had chimed ten, yet most of the shops were still open, and the well-lighted streets of the drab old Yorkshire town were filled by a pale-faced, terror-stricken crowd surging down the thoroughfares towards the Victoria Pier. A panic had suddenly been created an hour before by the issue of an extra-special edition of the Hull evening paper, the Daily News, containing a brief telegram in large type, as follows:—
The Coastguard at Donna Nook report that a strong force of Russian war vessels, including the turret-ship Sevastopol and the barbette-ships Sinope and Cizoi Veliky, have just hove in sight and are making for the Humber. Lloyd's signal station on Spurn Point has also intimated that hostile ships coming from the south are lying-to just beyond the Lightship.
The papers sold more quickly than they could be printed, a shilling each being given for copies by the excited townspeople, who now, for the first time, suddenly realised that the enemy was upon them. Men and boys with bundles of limp papers, damp from the press, rushed along Whitefriargate, away in every direction into the suburbs, shouting the appalling intelligence in hoarse, strident tones that awoke the echoes of the quieter thoroughfares.
Now, even as purchasers of papers read the few lines of print under the dim uncertain light of street lamps, the dull booming of distant guns fell upon their ears, and the populace, wildly excited, made their way with one accord towards the Victoria Pier, to glean the latest news, and ascertain the true significance of the repeated firing.
Was Hull in danger? Would the enemy advance up the river and bombard the town? These all-important questions were on every one's tongue, and as the thousands of all classes rushed hither and thither, wild rumours of the enemy's intentions spread and increased the horror.
Within an hour of the publication of the first intimation of the presence of the invaders the excitement had become intense, and the narrow streets and narrower bridges had become congested by a terror-stricken multitude. Time after time the thunder of heavy guns shook the town, causing windows to clatter, and the people standing on the pier and along the riverside strained their eyes into the cavernous darkness towards the sea. But they could discern nothing. Across at New Holland, two miles away, lamps twinkled, but the many lights—red, white, and green—that stud the broad river for the guidance of the mariner had, since the Declaration of War, been extinguished. The familiar distant lights that had never failed to shine seaward at Salt End and Thorngumbald no longer shed their radiance, and from the revolving lights at Spurn no stream of brilliancy now flashed away upon the rolling waters of the North Sea. The buoys had been cut adrift, the Bull Lightship taken from her moorings, and the entrance to Grimsby harbour was unillumined. Not a star appeared in the sky, for all was dark, black, and threatening. Through the hot, heavy atmosphere the roar of cannon came from the direction of Spurn Point, and as the sounds of the shots fell upon the ears of the anxious watchers, they stood aghast, wondering what would be their destiny.
The suspense was awful. Men, women, and children, with scared faces, stood in groups in the market-place, in Queen Street, and in High Street, discussing the situation. This question, however, was already engaging the attention of the municipal and military authorities, for on hearing the alarming news the Mayor, with shrewd promptitude, walked quickly to the Town Hall, and held a hurried informal consultation with Mr. Charles Wilson, Mr. Arthur Wilson, Mr. Richardson, Major Wellsted, Alderman Woodhouse, and a number of aldermen and councillors. All knew the town was in peril. The enemy could have but one object in entering the Humber. Yet it was agreed that no steps could be taken at such brief notice to defend the place. The guardship Edinburgh had been withdrawn to form part of the squadron upon which they would be compelled to rely, with the batteries at Paull and the submarine mines.
It was evident by the firing that an attack upon the British Squadron had commenced. The shadow of impending disaster had fallen.
Working men, hurrying towards the pier, stopped their leader, Mr. Millington, and tried to learn what was being done, while many of the leading townsfolk were thronged around for information, and were centres of excited groups in Whitefriargate. The boatmen, sharply questioned on every hand, were as ignorant of the state of affairs as those seeking information, so nothing could be done except to wait.
Women and children of the middle and upper classes, regardless of their destination, were being hurried away by anxious fathers. Every train leaving Hull was filled to overflowing by those fleeing from the advance of the Russians, and on the roads inland to Beverley, Selby, and Market Weighton crowds of every class hurried away to seek some place of safety.