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    THE GREAT WAR IN ENGLAND IN 1897




    _First Edition_         _July 1894._
    _Second Edition_        _July 1894._
    _Edition de Luxe_       _July 1894._
    _Third Edition_         _August 1894._
    _Fourth Edition_        _August 1894._
    _Fifth Edition_         _September 1894._
    _Sixth Edition_         _October 1894._
    _Seventh Edition_       _November 1894._
    _Eighth Edition_        _December 1894._




[Illustration: BOMBARDMENT OF LONDON: "IN LUDGATE HILL THE SCENE
WAS AWFUL."]




    THE GREAT WAR IN ENGLAND IN 1897

    BY
    WILLIAM LE QUEUX, F.R.G.S.

    AUTHOR OF
    "GUILTY BONDS" "STRANGE TALES OF A NIHILIST" "CONDEMNED TO SILENCE"
    "THE STOLEN SOUL" ETC.

    _ILLUSTRATED BY CAPTAIN CYRIL FIELD, R.M.L.I.
    AND T. S. C. CROWTHER_

    ELEVENTH EDITION

    LONDON
    TOWER PUBLISHING COMPANY LIMITED
    95, MINORIES, E.C.
    1895

    [_All Rights Reserved_]




    TO
    MY FRIEND
    ALFRED CHARLES HARMSWORTH
    A GENEROUS EDITOR AND PATRIOTIC ENGLISHMAN
    I INSCRIBE THIS FORECAST
    OF
    THE COMING WAR




PREFACE TO NINTH EDITION


In writing this book it was my endeavour to bring vividly before the
public the national dangers by which we are surrounded, and the absolute
necessity which lies upon England to maintain her defences in an
adequate state of efficiency. That my effort has been successful, is
proved alike by the fact that eight editions of the work have already
been exhausted, and by the commendatory and highly gratifying terms in
which it has been criticised by prominent statesmen and leading naval
and military experts, including the Commander-in-Chief of the British
Army. Some professional critics have, it is true, questioned certain
prophetic details concerning naval warfare, but I think the best
possible answer to them is furnished by the results of recent battles in
Chinese waters, which, it is admitted, present to us very serious
object-lessons. A few passages I have revised in order to bring the
events more thoroughly up to date, and in sending my forecast forth
again it is accompanied by a devout hope that ere it be too late our
present insecurity will be remedied, that a national disaster may thus
be prevented, and that England may ever retain her supremacy upon the
sea.

    WILLIAM LE QUEUX.
    LONDON, _March_ 1895.




CRITICISM BY LORD ROBERTS


    UNITED SERVICE CLUB,
    PALL MALL, W.

DEAR SIR,--I have read with considerable interest your vivid account of
the dangers to which the loss of our naval supremacy may be expected to
expose us, and the means by which you think we should be able to
extricate ourselves from those dangers. I hardly like to criticise a
work which, to be effective, must to a great extent be imaginative, but
on one or two points I would venture to offer a few remarks:--

_First_, You refer to the assistance the Home Army might receive from
India and the Colonies. I feel confident that in such an emergency as
you portray, the Colonies and Dependencies of the Empire would be most
anxious to assist the Mother Country; but unless our sea power were
assured, it appears to me that they would be unable to do so. Until our
command of the sea had been regained, we should be powerless to move a
soldier either from or to the United Kingdom.

_Secondly_, You very properly lay stress on the part which might be
taken by the Volunteers in the defence of the United Kingdom. No one can
appreciate more fully than I do the gallant and patriotic spirit which
animates the Volunteer Force, and I most thoroughly agree with you as to
the value it might be under such serious circumstances as you depict. In
fact, the _raison d'etre_ of the Force is to be able to defend the
country in the event of an invasion. But to enable our Volunteers to do
all that is expected of them, they must be made thoroughly efficient.
Much has been done of late years to this end, but much more is required
before our citizen soldiers can be depended upon to hold their own
against foreign troops whose training is continually being carried on,
and whose organisation is believed to be nearly perfect. It is very
penny-wise and pound-foolish of us not to do all in our power to render
the Volunteers the serviceable body they might be.

_Thirdly_, You take but little account of the Militia, which the Duke of
Wellington considered to be our mainstay in the event of a threatened
invasion. The Militia would seem to be rather out of fashion at present,
but still it is a very useful force, which only needs encouragement and
development to convert it into a reliable fighting body, capable of
reinforcing and co-operating with our small regular Army.

You will gather from what I have said that, under the conditions
specified by you, I should be inclined to regard your forecast of the
result of the supposed conflict as being unduly favourable. I can only
add that I trust such conditions may never arise, and that your estimate
of the means immediately available for repelling foreign attack may be
more correct than my own.--Believe me, yours very truly,

    ROBERTS.




PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION.


GENERAL LORD ROBERTS, V.C., on reading this forecast of the Coming War,
wrote as follows:--

    Grove Park, Kingsbury,
    Middlesex, March 26, 1894.

    DEAR SIR,--I entirely concur with you in thinking it most
    desirable to bring home to the British public in every possible
    way the dangers to which the nation is exposed, unless it
    maintains a Navy and Army sufficiently strong and well organised
    to meet the defensive requirements of the Empire.--Believe me,
    yours faithfully,

[Illustration: Signature of Roberts]

Field-Marshal Viscount Wolseley, K.P., in his _Life of Marlborough_,
speaks plainly when he says--

    The last battle fought in England was fought to secure James his
    crown. If through the folly and parsimony of our people we
    should ever see another, it will be fought in defence of London.
    The struggle will be, not for a dynasty, but for our own very
    existence as an independent nation. Are we prepared to meet it?
    The politician says Yes; the soldier and the sailor say No.

Such outspoken expressions of opinion from two of our chief military
authorities should cause the British public to pause and reflect. On all
hands it is admitted by both naval and military experts, that,
notwithstanding the increase of our Navy by the Spencer programme, our
country is inadequately defended and totally unprepared for war. The
extraordinary preparations now going forward in France and Russia are
being made in view of an attack upon England, and it is ominous that the
downfall of our Empire is a perpetual subject of discussion in the Paris
press. Although a Briton, I have lived long enough in France to know
that the French, while hating the Germans, despise the English, and are
looking forward to a day not far hence when their battleships will
bombard our south coast towns, and their legions advance over the Surrey
Hills to London. When the Great War does come, it will come swiftly, and
without warning. We are accustomed to scoff at the idea of an invasion
of Britain. We feel secure in our sea-girt island home; we have
confidence in our brave sailor defenders, in our gallant Army, and our
enthusiastic Volunteers, and we entertain a supreme contempt for "mere
foreigners." It is this national egotism, this insular conviction that
foreign engines of war are inferior to our own, that may cause our ruin.
Everything we possess, everything we hold dear, our position among
nations, our very life, depends for its safety, firstly, upon the
undoubted predominance of our Navy over any likely or possible
combination of the Navies of Continental Powers; and, secondly, upon an
Army properly equipped and ready to take the field on receipt of the
momentous word "Mobilise"!

Is our Navy, even strengthened by the recent programme, in a
sufficiently efficient state to retain the supremacy of the seas? Let us
face the situation boldly, and allow a well-known and distinguished
officer to reply to that question. Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas
Symonds, G.C.B., writing to me, says--

    Our weak Navy, with its inefficient _personnel_, has now to
    perform an enormously increased duty, such as defending
    increased commerce, food, and coals. Our guns are the worst in
    the world in forty-seven vessels, mounting 350 muzzleloaders,
    where the French and all foreign Navies use _only
    breechloaders_. Dimensions, expense, and very many other reasons
    are given for this ruinous custom, but all other Navies mount
    breechloaders on vessels of the same dimensions as our own. As
    to expenses, such economy (so-called) means the most execrable
    parsimony--to ruthlessly murder men and disgrace our flag and
    Navy. Our forty-seven feeble vessels, weak in armament, and all
    composing them, reduce our Navy to comparative insignificance,
    and are a preparation for disgrace and ruin when at war.

Yet we are content to sit idly by, confident in a strength which two
foreign Powers are slowly but surely undermining! Russia and France,
both barely able to sustain their gigantic Armies, are to-day straining
every nerve to enlarge their naval forces, preparatory to a swift
descent upon our shores. This alarming fact we wilfully disregard,
affecting to find humour in the Franco-Muscovite preparations. Thus,
unless we maintain a Navy of sufficient strength to prevent invasion,
War, with its attendant horrors, is inevitable, and the scene of battle
will be England's smiling fields.

Turning to our Army, what do we find? Even the civilian writer who
studies it is amazed at the muddle of insufficiency in which it is
steeped. Our Home Defence Scheme is a very elaborate paper problem, but
as our forces have never been mobilised, its many glaring defects must,
alas! remain unremedied until our highways echo to the tramp of an
enemy. Upon this point a volume might be written, but a few plain facts
must suffice. Military experts will, I think, agree when I assert that
the 2nd Corps, as planned by this grotesque scheme, does not and cannot
exist; and while the 3rd Corps may possibly stand as regards infantry,
because its infantry are all Militia, yet it will have neither Regular
cavalry nor guns. Every one of the staffs is a myth, and the equipment
and commissariat arrangements are a complete guarantee of collapse at
the outset of mobilisation. What, for instance, can be said of a system
in which one unit of the 3rd Cavalry Brigade "mobilises," and obtains
its "personal" and part of its "regimental" equipment at Plymouth; the
other part of its regimental paraphernalia, including munitions, at
Aldershot; and its horses--at Dublin? Practically, half our cavalry at
home are to-day, however, incapable of mobilisation, for, according to
the latest return available, I find that over six thousand cavalry men
have no horses! Again, the Volunteers, upon whom we must depend for the
defence of London, have no transport, and the ammunition columns for
the 3rd Army Corps and the Regular cavalry do not exist. Such staggering
deficits as these are in themselves sufficient to show how critical
would be our position if England were invaded, and in order to give an
adequate idea of what we may expect during that reign of terror, I have
penned the narrative which follows. Some, no doubt, believe that our
enemies will treat us with more mercy than I have shown, but I firmly
anticipate that in the desperate struggle for the supremacy of the
world, towns will be bombarded and international law set at naught where
our invaders see a chance of success. Consequently, the ruin must be
widespread, and the loss of life enormous.

In the various strategical and tactical problems involved, I have
received assistance from a number of well-known naval and military
officers on the active list, whose names I am, however, not at liberty
to divulge. Suffice it to say that, in addition to personally going over
the whole of the ground where battles are fought, I have also obtained
information from certain official documents not made public, and have
endeavoured to bring this forecast up to date by introducing the latest
inventions in guns, and showing the relative strength of Navies as they
will appear in 1897. In this latter I have been compelled to bestow
names upon many ships now building.

To Lieut. J. G. Stevens, 17th Middlesex Rifle Volunteers, who supplied
me with many details regarding the Volunteers; to Mr. Alfred C.
Harmsworth, F.R.G.S., whose suggestion prompted me to write this
narrative; and to Mr. Harold Harmsworth, who on several occasions
assisted me, I hereby acknowledge my thanks. While many readers will no
doubt regard this book chiefly as an exciting piece of fiction, I trust
that no small proportion will perceive the important lesson underlying
it, for the French are laughing at us, the Russians presume to imitate
us, and the Day of Reckoning is hourly advancing.

    WILLIAM LE QUEUX.

    PRINCE OF WALES'S CLUB,
    COVENTRY STREET, W.




    CONTENTS


    _BOOK I_
    THE INVASION

    CHAP.                                        PAGE
          I. THE SHADOW OF MOLOCH                  13
         II. A TOTTERING EMPIRE                    19
        III. ARMING FOR THE STRUGGLE               23
         IV. THE SPY                               28
          V. BOMBARDMENT OF NEWHAVEN               35
         VI. LANDING OF THE FRENCH IN SUSSEX       40
        VII. BOMB OUTRAGES IN LONDON               44
       VIII. FATEFUL DAYS FOR THE OLD FLAG         49
         IX. COUNT VON BEILSTEIN AT HOME           56
          X. A DEATH DRAUGHT                       61
         XI. THE MASSACRE AT EASTBOURNE            65
        XII. IN THE EAGLE'S TALONS                 70
       XIII. FIERCE FIGHTING IN THE CHANNEL        75
        XIV. BATTLE OFF BEACHY HEAD                85

    _BOOK II_
    THE STRUGGLE

         XV. THE DOOM OF HULL                      99
        XVI. TERROR ON THE TYNE                   110
       XVII. HELP FROM OUR COLONIES               125
      XVIII. RUSSIAN ADVANCE IN THE MIDLANDS      137
        XIX. FALL OF BIRMINGHAM                   150
         XX. OUR REVENGE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN     162
        XXI. A NAVAL FIGHT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES   174
       XXII. PANIC IN LANCASHIRE                  186
      XXIII. THE EVE OF BATTLE                    193
       XXIV. MANCHESTER ATTACKED BY RUSSIANS      200
        XXV. GALLANT DEEDS BY CYCLISTS            208
       XXVI. GREAT BATTLE ON THE MERSEY           213
      XXVII. THE FATE OF THE VANQUISHED           218

    _BOOK III_
    THE VICTORY

     XXVIII. A SHABBY WAYFARER                    229
       XXIX. LANDING OF THE ENEMY AT LEITH        235
        XXX. ATTACK ON EDINBURGH                  243
       XXXI. "THE DEMON OF WAR"                   248
      XXXII. FRIGHTFUL SLAUGHTER OUTSIDE GLASGOW  256
     XXXIII. MARCH OF THE FRENCH ON LONDON        268
      XXXIV. LOOTING IN THE SUBURBS               279
       XXXV. LONDON BOMBARDED                     284
      XXXVI. BABYLON BURNING                      291
     XXXVII. FIGHTING ON THE SURREY HILLS         299
    XXXVIII. NAVAL BATTLE OFF DUNGENESS           304
      XXXIX. THE DAY OF RECKONING                 312
         XL. "FOR ENGLAND!"                       324
        XLI. DAWN                                 328




_BOOK I_

_THE INVASION_




    THE GREAT WAR IN ENGLAND
    IN 1897.


CHAPTER I.

THE SHADOW OF MOLOCH.


War! _War in England!_

Growled by thoughtful, stern-visaged men, gasped with bated breath by
pale-faced, terrified women, the startling news passed quickly round the
Avenue Theatre from gallery to boxes. The crisis was swift, complete,
crushing. Actors and audience were appalled.

Though it was a gay comic opera that was being performed for the first
time, entertainers and entertained lost all interest in each other. They
were amazed, dismayed, awestricken. Amusement was nauseating; War, with
all its attendant horrors, was actually upon them! The popular tenor,
one of the idols of the hour, blundered over his lines and sang terribly
out of tune, but the hypercritical first-night audience passed the
defect unnoticed. They only thought of what might happen; of the dark
cavernous future that lay before.

War had been declared against Britain--Britain, the Empire that had so
long rested in placid sea-girt security, confident of immunity from
attack, was to be invaded! The assertion seemed preposterous.

Some, after reading eagerly the newspapers still damp from the press,
smiled incredulously, half inclined to regard the startling intelligence
as a mere fabrication by alarmists, or a perfected phase of the
periodical war-scare which sensational journalists annually launch upon
the world during what is technically known as the "gooseberry" season.

Other readers, however, recollecting the grave political crises on the
Continent, set their teeth firmly, silent and dumfounded. Upon many
merchants and City men the news fell like a thunderbolt, for financial
ruin stared them in the face.

Evidently a desperate attempt would be made by the enemy to land on
English soil. Already the startled playgoers could hear in their excited
imagination the clash of arms mingling with the triumphant yell of the
victor, and the stifled, despairing cry of the hapless victim. But who,
they wondered, would be the victim? Would Britannia ever fall to the
dust with broken trident and shattered shield? Would her neck ever lie
under the heel of the foreign invader? No, never--while Britons could
fight.

The theatre, in its garish blaze of electricity, and crowded with
well-dressed men and women, presented a brilliant appearance, which had
suddenly become strangely incongruous with the feelings of the audience.
In the boxes, where youth and beauty smiled, the bouquets which had been
provided by the management gave to the theatre a bright, artistic touch
of colour. Yet the pungent odour they diffused had become sickening.
Intermingled with other flowers there were many tuberoses. They are
funereal blossoms, ineffably emblematic of the grave. There is death in
their breath.

When the astounding news fell upon the house the performance was drawing
to a close. A moment before, every one had been silent and motionless,
listening with rapt attention to the tenor's plaintive love song, and
admiring the grace of the fair heroine, but as the terrible truth dawned
upon them they rose, amid a scene of the wildest excitement. The few
papers that had been purchased at fabulous prices at the doors were
eagerly scanned, many of the sheets being torn into shreds in the mad
struggle to catch a glimpse of the alarming telegrams they contained.
For a few moments the agitation nearly approached a panic, while above
the hum and din the hoarse, strident voices of running newsmen could be
heard outside, yelling, "War declared against England! Expected landing
of the enemy! Extrur-speshal!"

There was a hidden terror in the word "War" that at first held the
amazed playgoers breathless and thoughtful. Never before had its
significance appeared so grim, so fatal, so fraught with appalling
consequences.

War had been actually declared! There was no averting it! It was a stern
reality.

No adroit diplomatic negotiations could stem the advancing hordes of
foreign invaders; Ministers and ambassadors were as useless pawns, for
two great nations had had the audacity to combine in the projected
attack upon Great Britain.

It seemed incredible, impossible. True, a Great War had long been
predicted, forecasts had been given of coming conflicts, and European
nations had for years been gradually strengthening their armies and
perfecting their engines of war, in the expectation of being plunged
into hostilities. Modern improvements in arms and ammunition had so
altered the conditions of war, that there had long been a feeling of
insecurity even among those Powers who, a few years before, had felt
themselves strong enough to resist any attack, however violent.
War-scares had been plentiful, crises in France, Germany, and Russia of
frequent occurrence; still, no one dreamed that Moloch was in their
midst--that the Great War, so long foreshadowed, had in reality
commenced.

Yet on this hot, oppressive Saturday night in August the extra-special
editions of the papers contained news that startled the world. It ran as
follows:--

    INVASION OF ENGLAND.
    WAR DECLARED BY FRANCE AND RUSSIA.
    HOSTILE FLEETS ADVANCING.
    EXTRAORDINARY MANIFESTO BY THE TSAR.
    [REUTER'S TELEGRAMS.]

    St. Petersburg, _August 14th_, 4 P.M.

    The most intense excitement has been caused here by a totally
    unexpected and amazing announcement made this afternoon by the
    Minister of Foreign Affairs to the French Ambassador. It appears
    that the Minister has addressed to the French representative a
    short note in which the following extraordinary passage
    occurs:--

    "The earnest negotiations between the Imperial Government and
    Great Britain for a durable pacification of Bosnia not having
    led to the desired accord, His Majesty the Tsar, my august
    master, sees himself compelled, to his regret, to have recourse
    to force of arms. Be therefore so kind as to inform your
    Government that from to-day Russia considers herself in a state
    of war with Great Britain, and requests that France will
    immediately comply with the obligations of the alliance signed
    by President Carnot on February 23rd, 1892."

    A circular note has also been addressed by the Russian Foreign
    Office to its ambassadors at the principal Courts of Europe,
    stating that, for reasons assigned, the Tsar has resolved to
    commence hostilities against Great Britain, and has given his
    Armies and Navy orders to commence the invasion.

    This declaration has, no doubt, been contemplated by the Russian
    Government for several days. During the past week the French
    Ambassador has twice had private audience of the Tsar, and soon
    after 11 A.M. to-day he had a long interview at the Ministry of
    Foreign Affairs. It is understood that the Minister of War was
    also present.

    No official notification of the Declaration of War has been
    given to the British Ambassador. This has created considerable
    surprise.

    5.30 P.M.

    Large posters, headed "A Manifesto of His Majesty the Emperor of
    Russia," and addressed to his subjects, are being posted up in
    the Nevski Prospekt. In this document the Tsar says--

    "Our faithful and beloved subjects know the strong interest
    which we have constantly felt in the destinies of our Empire.
    Our desire for the pacification of our western frontier has been
    shared by the whole Russian nation, which now shows itself ready
    to bear fresh sacrifices to alleviate the position of those
    oppressed by British rule. The blood and property of our
    faithful subjects have always been dear to us, and our whole
    reign attests our constant solicitude to preserve to Russia the
    benefits of peace. This solicitude never failed to actuate my
    father during events which occurred recently in Bulgaria,
    Austro-Hungary, and Bosnia. Our object, before all, was to
    effect an amelioration in the position of our people on the
    frontier by means of pacific negotiations, and in concert with
    the great European Powers, our allies and friends. Having,
    however, exhausted our pacific efforts, we are compelled by the
    haughty obstinacy of Great Britain to proceed to more decisive
    acts. A feeling of equity and of our own dignity enjoins it. By
    her recent acts Great Britain places us under the necessity of
    having recourse to arms. Profoundly convinced of the justice of
    our cause, we make known to our faithful subjects that we
    declare war against Great Britain. In now invoking a blessing
    upon our valiant armies, we give the order for an invasion of
    England."

    This manifesto has excited the greatest enthusiasm. The news has
    spread rapidly, and dense crowds have assembled in the Nevski,
    the Izak Platz, and on the English Quay, where the posters are
    being exhibited.

    The British Ambassador has not yet received any communication
    from the Imperial Government.

    Fontainebleau, _Aug. 14th_, 4.30 P.M.

    President Felix Faure has received a telegram from the French
    representative at St. Petersburg, stating that Russia has
    declared war against Great Britain. The President left
    immediately for Paris by special train.

    Paris, _Aug. 14th_, 4.50 P.M.

    An astounding piece of intelligence has this afternoon been
    received at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. It is no less than
    a Declaration of War by Russia against Britain. The telegram
    containing the announcement was received at the Ministry from
    the French Ambassador at St. Petersburg soon after three
    o'clock. The President was at once informed, and the Cabinet
    immediately summoned. A meeting is now being held for the
    purpose of deciding upon the course to be pursued with regard to
    the obligations of France contracted by the Treaty of Alliance
    made after the Cronstadt incident in 1891. The news of impending
    hostilities has just been published in a special edition of the
    _Soir_, and has created the wildest excitement on the
    Boulevards. Little doubt is entertained that France will join
    the invading forces, and the result of the deliberations of the
    Cabinet is anxiously awaited. President Felix Faure has returned
    from Fountainebleau.

    [BY TELEPHONE THROUGH DALZIEL'S AGENCY.]

    6 P.M.

    The meeting of the Cabinet has just concluded. It has been
    resolved that France shall unreservedly render assistance to
    Russia. There is great activity at the War Office, and troops
    are already being ordered on active service. The excitement in
    the streets is increasing.

    [REUTER'S TELEGRAMS.]

    Berlin, _Aug. 14th_, 5.30 P.M.

    Telegrams received here from St. Petersburg report that Russia
    has unexpectedly declared war against Great Britain, and called
    upon France to aid her in a combined attack. The report is
    scarcely credited here, and further details are being eagerly
    awaited. The Emperor, who was to have left for Bremen this
    afternoon, has abandoned his journey, and is now in consultation
    with the Chancellor.

    Christiansand, _Aug. 14th_, 7.30 P.M.

    The French Channel Squadron, which has been manoeuvring for the
    past fortnight off the western coast of Norway, anchored outside
    the fjord here last night. This morning, according to rumour,
    the Russian Squadron arrived suddenly, and lay about thirty
    miles off land. Secret telegraphic orders were received at 6
    P.M. by the Admirals of both fleets almost simultaneously, and
    the whole of the vessels left in company half an hour later.
    They sailed in a southerly direction, but their destination is
    unknown.

    Dieppe, _Aug. 14th_, 8 P.M.

    Ten transport vessels are embarking troops for England. Four
    regiments of cavalry, including the 4th Chasseurs and 16th
    Guards, are--[1]

FOOTNOTE:

[1] The conclusion of this message has not reached us, all the wires
connecting this country with France having been cut.




CHAPTER II.

A TOTTERING EMPIRE.


The excitement in the theatre had increased, and the curtain had been
rung down. Death shadows, grimly apparent, had fallen upon the house,
and the scene was an extraordinary and unprecedented one. No such wild
restlessness and impetuous agitation had ever before been witnessed
within those walls. Some enthusiast of the pit, springing to his feet,
and drawing a large red handkerchief from his pocket, waved it,
shouting--

"Three cheers for good Old England!" to which, after a moment's silence,
the audience responded lustily.

Then, almost before the last sound had died away, another patriot of the
people mounted upon his seat, crying--

"No one need fear. The British Lion will quickly hold the French Eagle
and the Russian Bear within his jaws. Let the enemy come; we will mow
them down like hay."

This raised a combined laugh and cheer, though it sounded forced and
hollow. Immediately, however, some buoyant spirits in the gallery
commenced singing "Rule, Britannia," the chorus of which was taken up
vigorously, the orchestra assisting by playing the last verse.

Outside, the scene in the streets was one of momentarily increasing
excitement. The news had spread with marvellous rapidity, and the whole
city was agog. An elbowing, waving, stormy crowd surged down the Strand
to Trafalgar Square, where an impromptu demonstration was being held,
the Government being denounced by its opponents, and spoken of with
confidence by its supporters. The Radical, the Socialist, the Anarchist,
each aired his views, and through the throng a hoarse threatening murmur
condensed into three words, "Down with Russia! Down with France!" The
cry, echoed by a thousand throats, mingled weirdly with the shouts of
the newsmen and the snatches of patriotic songs.

London was anxious, fevered, and turbulent, that hot, moonless August
night. At that hour all the shops were closed, and the streets only
lighted by the lamps. From the unlighted windows the indistinct shapes
of heads looking out on the scene could be distinguished.

On the pavements of Piccadilly and Knightsbridge knots of people stood
arguing and wrangling over the probable turn of events. From uncouth
Whitechapel to artistic Kensington, from sylvan Highgate to the villadom
of Dulwich, the amazing intelligence had been conveyed by the presses of
Fleet Street, which were still belching forth tons of damp news-sheets.
At first there was confidence among the people; nevertheless little by
little this confidence diminished, and curiosity gave place to surprise.
But what could it be? All was shrouded in the darkest gloom. In the
atmosphere was a strange and terrible oppression that seemed to weigh
down men and crush them. London was, it appeared, walled in by the
unknown and the unexpected.

But, after all, England was strong; it was the mighty British Empire; it
was the world. What was there to fear? Nothing. So the people continued
to shout, "Down with France! Down with the Autocrat! Down with the
Tsar!"

A young man, who had been sitting alone in the stalls, had risen,
electrified at the alarming news, and rushing out, hailed a passing cab,
and drove rapidly away up Northumberland Avenue. This conduct was
remarkable, for Geoffrey Engleheart was scarcely the man to flinch when
danger threatened. He was a tall, athletic young fellow of twenty-six,
with wavy brown hair, a dark, smartly-trimmed moustache, and handsome,
well-cut features. He was happy and easy-going, always overflowing with
genuine _bonhomie_. As the younger son of a very distinguished officer,
he contrived to employ himself for a couple of hours a day at the
Foreign Office, where, although a clerk, he held a very responsible
position. Belonging to a rather good set, he was a member of several
fashionable clubs, and lived in cosy, well-furnished chambers in St.
James's Street.

Driving first to the house of his _fiancee_, Violet Vayne, at Rutland
Gate, he informed her family of the startling intelligence; then,
re-entering the conveyance, he subsequently alighted before the door of
his chambers. As he paid the cabman, an ill-clad man pushed a newspaper
into his face, crying, "'Ere y'are, sir. Extrur-special edition o' the
_People_. Latest details. Serious scandal at the Forrin' Office."

Geoffrey started. He staggered, his heart gave a bound, and his face
blanched. Thrusting half a crown into the man's dirty palm, he grasped
the paper, and rushing upstairs to his sitting-room, cast himself into a
chair. In breathless eagerness he glanced at the front page of the
journal, and read the following:--

    SCANDAL AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE.
    A STATE SECRET DIVULGED.

    An extraordinary rumour is going the round of the Service clubs
    to-night. It is alleged that the present Declaration of War
    would have been impossible but for the treachery of some person
    through whose hands the transcript of a secret treaty between
    England and Germany passed to-day.

    A prominent Cabinet Minister, on being questioned by our
    reporter on the subject, admitted that he had heard the rumour,
    but declined to make any definite statement whether or not it
    was true.

    There must be a good deal behind the rumour of treachery,
    inasmuch as none of the prominent men who have already been
    interviewed gave a denial to the statement.

Geoffrey sat pale and motionless, with eyes fixed upon the printed
words. He read and re-read them until the lines danced before his gaze,
and he crushed the paper in his hands, and cast it from him.

The little French clock on the mantelshelf chimed the hour of one upon
its silvery bell; the lamp spluttered and burned dim. Still he did not
move; he was dumfounded, rooted to the spot.

Blacker and blacker grew the crowd outside. The density of the cloud
that hung over all portended some direful tragedy. The impending
disaster made itself felt. An alarming sense of calmness filled the
streets. A silence had suddenly fallen, and was becoming complete and
threatening. What was it that was about to issue from these black
storm-clouds? Who could tell?




CHAPTER III.

ARMING FOR THE STRUGGLE.


London was amazed.

The provinces were awestricken, paralysed by the startling suddenness
with which the appalling news of the invasion had been flashed to them.
Bewildered, the people could not believe it.

Only slowly did the vivid and terrible truth dawn individually upon the
millions north and south, and then, during the Day of Rest, they crowded
to the newspaper and telegraph offices, loudly clamouring for further
details of the overwhelming catastrophe that threatened. They sought for
information from London; they expected London, the mighty, all-powerful
capital, to act.

Through the blazing Sunday the dust rose from the impatient, perspiring
crowds in towns and cities, and the cool night brought no rest from a
turmoil now incessant. Never before were such scenes of intense
enthusiasm witnessed in England, Wales, and Scotland, for this was the
first occasion on which the public felt the presence of invaders at
their very doors.

A mighty force was on its way to ruin their homes, to sweep from them
their hard-earned savings, to crush, to conquer--to kill them!

Fierce antagonism rose spontaneously in every Briton's heart, and during
that never-to-be-forgotten day, at every barracks throughout the
country, recruiting-sergeants were besieged by all sorts and conditions
of men eager to accept the Queen's shilling, and strike for their
country's honour. Heedless of danger, of hardship, of the fickle fortune
of the fight, the determination to assist in the struggle rose instantly
within them.

At York, Chester, Edinburgh, and Portsmouth, volunteers came forward by
hundreds. All were enthusiastic, undrilled, but ready to use their
guns--genuinely heroic patriots of our land, such as are included in no
other nation than the British. Pluck, zeal for the public safety, and an
intense partisanship towards their fellows induced thousands to join the
colours--many, alas! to sink later beneath a foeman's bullet, unknown,
unhonoured heroes!

Already the Cabinet had held a hurried meeting, at which it had been
decided to call out the whole of the Reserves. Of this the War Office
and Admiralty had been notified, and the Queen had given her sanction to
the necessary proclamations, with the result that telegraphic orders had
been issued to general officers commanding and to officers commanding
Reservists to mobilise instantly.

The posters containing the proclamation, which are always kept in
readiness in the hands of officers commanding Regimental Districts, were
issued immediately, and exhibited on all public places throughout the
kingdom. On the doors of town halls, churches, chapels, police stations,
military barracks, and in the windows of post offices, these notices
were posted within a few hours. Crowds everywhere collected to read
them, and the greatest enthusiasm was displayed. Militia, Yeomanry,
Volunteers, all were called out, and men on reading the Mobilisation
Order lost no time in obtaining their accoutrements and joining their
depots. The national danger was imminent, and towards their "places of
concentration" all categories of Her Majesty's forces were already
moving. In every Regimental District the greatest activity was
displayed. No country maintains in peace the full complement, or
anything approaching the full complement of transport which its Armies
require; hence vehicles and horses to complete the Army Service Corps
companies, and for the supplemental service, were being immediately
requisitioned from far and near.

One of the many anomalies discovered during this critical period was,
that while transport could thus be rapidly requisitioned, yet the
impressment of civilians as drivers and caretakers of the animals was
not permitted by the law; therefore on all hands the organisation of
this requisitioned transport was fraught with the utmost difficulty, the
majority of owners and employees refusing to come forward voluntarily.
Registered horses were quickly collected, but they were far from
sufficient for the requirements, and the want of animals caused loud
outcries from every Regimental District.

The general scheme was the constitution of a Field Army of four cavalry
brigades and three army corps, with behind them a semi-mobile force made
up of thirty-three Volunteer infantry brigades and eighty-four Volunteer
batteries of position. The garrisons having been provided for, the four
cavalry brigades and the 1st and 2nd Army Corps were to be composed
entirely of Regulars, the 3rd Army Corps being made up of Regulars,
Militia, and Volunteers. Organised in brigades, the Yeomanry were
attached to the various infantry brigades or divisions of the Field
Army, and the Regular Medical Staff Corps being much too weak, was
strengthened from companies of the Volunteer Medical Staff Corps. In
brief, the scheme was the formation of a composite Field Army, backed by
a second line of partially trained Auxiliaries.

Such a general scheme to set in battle order our land forces for home
defence was, no doubt, well devised. Nevertheless, from the first moment
the most glaring defects in the working out of details were everywhere
manifested. Stores were badly disposed, there was a sad want of
clothing, camp equipment, and arms, and the arrangements for the joining
of Reservists were throughout defective. Again, the whole Reserve had
been left totally untrained from the day the men left the colours; and
having in view the fact that all leading authorities in Europe had,
times without number, told us that the efficiency of an Army depended
on drill, discipline, and shooting, what could be expected from a system
which relied in great part for the safety of the country on a Reserve,
the members of which were undisciplined, undrilled, and unpractised in
shooting for periods ranging from nine years in the Guards to five years
in the case of the Line?

On the day of mobilisation not a single regiment in the United Kingdom
was ready to move forward to the front as it stood on parade! Not an
officer, not a man, was prepared. England had calmly slept for years,
while military reforms had been effected in every other European
country. Now she had been suddenly and rudely awakened!

Everywhere it was commented upon that no practical peace trial of the
mobilisation scheme had ever been made. Little wonder was there, then,
that incomplete details hampered rapid movements, or that the carrying
out of the definite and distinct programme was prevented by gaps
occurring which could not be discovered until the working of the system
had been tested by actual experiment.

It was this past apathy of the authorities, amounting to little less
than criminal negligence, that formed the text of the vehement
outpourings of Anarchists, Socialists, and "No War" partisans. A
practical test of the efficiency of the scheme to concentrate our forces
should have taken place even at the risk of public expenditure, instead
of making the experiment when the enemy were actually at our doors.

Another anomaly which, in the opinion of the public, ought long ago to
have been removed, was the fact that the billeting of troops on the
march on the inhabitants of the United Kingdom, other than owners of
hotels, inns, livery stables, and public-houses, is illegal, while
troops when not on the march cannot be billeted at all! At many points
of concentration this absurd and antiquated regulation, laid down by the
Army Act in 1881, was severely felt. Public buildings, churches, and
schools had to be hired for the accommodation of the troops, and those
others who could not find private persons hospitable enough to take them
in were compelled to bivouac where they could. Of tents they had
scarcely any, and many regiments were thus kept homeless and badly fed
several days before moving forward!

Was there any wonder, then, that some men should lose heart? Did not
such defects portend--nay, invite disaster?

Strange though it may seem, Geoffrey Engleheart was one of but two
persons in England who had on that Saturday anticipated this sudden
Declaration of War.

Through the hot night, without heed of the wild turbulence outside,
regardless of the songs of patriots, of gleeful shouts of Anarchists,
that, mingling into a dull roar, penetrated the heavy curtains before
the window of his room, he sat with brows knit and gaze transfixed.

Words now and then escaped his compressed lips. They were low and
ominous; utterances of blank despair.




CHAPTER IV.

THE SPY.


Count von Beilstein was a polished cosmopolitan. He was in many ways a
very remarkable man.

In London society he was as popular as he had previously been in Paris
and in Berlin. Well-preserved and military-looking, he retained the
vigour, high spirits, and spruce step of youth, spent his money freely,
and led the almost idyllic life of a careless bachelor in the Albany.

Since his partnership with Sir Joseph Vayne, the well-known shipowner,
father of Geoffrey's _fiancee_, he had taken up a prominent position in
commercial circles, was a member of the London Chamber of Commerce, took
an active part in the various deliberations of that body, and in the
City was considered a man of considerable importance.

How we of the world, however shrewd, are deceived by outward
appearances!

Of the millions in London there were but two men who knew the truth; who
were aware of the actual position held by this German landed proprietor.
Indeed, the Count's friends little dreamed that under the outward cloak
of careless ease induced by wealth there was a mind endowed with a
cunning that was extraordinary, and an ingenuity that was marvellous.
Truth to tell, Karl von Beilstein, who posed as the owner of the great
Beilstein estates, extending along the beautiful valley of the
Moselle, between Alf and Cochem, was not an aristocrat at all, and
possessed no estate more tangible than the proverbial chateau in Spain.

[Illustration: "COUNT VON BEILSTEIN WAS A SPY!"]

Count von Beilstein was a _spy_!

His life had been a strangely varied one; few men perhaps had seen more
of the world. His biography was recorded in certain police registers.
Born in the Jews' quarter at Frankfort, he had, at an early age, turned
adventurer, and for some years was well known at Monte Carlo as a
successful gamester. But the Fickle Goddess at last forsook him, and
under another name he started a bogus loan office in Brussels. This,
however, did not last long, for the police one night made a raid on the
place, only to discover that Monsieur had flown. An extensive robbery of
diamonds in Amsterdam, a theft of bonds while in transit between Hanover
and Berlin, and the forgery of a large quantity of Russian rouble notes,
were events which followed in quick succession, and in each of them the
police detected the adroit hand of the man who now called himself the
Count von Beilstein. At last, by sheer ill-luck, he fell into the grip
of the law.

He was in St. Petersburg, where he had opened an office in the Bolshaia,
and started as a diamond dealer. After a few genuine transactions he
obtained possession of gems worth nearly L20,000, and decamped.

But the Russian police were quickly at his heels, and he was arrested in
Riga, being subsequently tried and condemned by the Assize Court at St.
Petersburg to twelve years' exile in Siberia. In chains, with a convoy
of convicts he crossed the Urals, and tramped for weeks on the
snow-covered Siberian Post Road.

His name still appears on the register at the forwarding prison of
Tomsk, with a note stating that he was sent on to the silver mines of
Nertchinsk, the most dreaded in Asiatic Russia.

Yet, strangely enough, within twelve months of his sentence he appeared
at Royat-les-Bains, in Auvergne, posing as a Count, and living
expensively at one of the best hotels.

There was a reason for all this. The Russian Government, when he was
sentenced, were well aware of his perfect training as a cosmopolitan
adventurer, of his acquaintance with persons of rank, and of his cool
unscrupulousness. Hence it was that one night while on the march along
the Great Post Road to that bourne whence few convicts return, it was
hinted to him by the captain of Cossacks, that he might obtain his
liberty, and a good income in addition, if he consented to become a
secret agent of the Tsar.

The authorities desired him to perform a special duty; would he consent?
He could exchange a life of heavy toil in the Nertchinsk mines for one
of comparative idleness and ease. The offer was tempting, and he
accepted.

That same night it was announced to his fellow-convicts that the Tsar
had pardoned him; his leg-fetters were thereupon struck off, and he
started upon his return to St. Petersburg to receive instructions as to
the delicate mission he was to perform.

It was then, for the first time, that he became the Count von Beilstein,
and his subsequent actions all betrayed the most remarkable daring,
forethought, and tact. With one object in view he exercised an amount of
patience that was almost incredible. One or two minor missions were
entrusted to him by his official taskmasters on the banks of the Neva,
and in each he acquitted himself satisfactorily. Apparently he was a
thoroughly patriotic subject of the Kaiser, with tastes strongly
anti-Muscovite, and after his partnership with Sir Joseph Vayne he
resided in London, and mixed a good deal with military men, because he
had, he said, held a commission in a Hussar regiment in the Fatherland,
and took the liveliest interest in all military matters.

Little did those officers dream that the information he gained about
improvements in England's defences was forwarded in regular and
carefully-written reports to the Russian War Office, or that the Tsar's
messenger who carried weekly despatches between the Russian Ambassador
in London and his Government frequently took with him a packet
containing plans and tracings which bore marginal notes in the angular
handwriting of the popular Count von Beilstein!

Early in the morning of this memorable day when the startling news of
the Declaration of War had reached England, a telegram had been handed
to the Tsar's secret agent while he was still in bed.

He read it through; then stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

The message, in code, from Berlin, stated that a draft of a most
important treaty between Germany and England had been despatched from
the German Foreign Office, and would arrive in London that day. The
message concluded with the words, "It is imperative that we should have
a copy of this document, or at least a summary of its contents,
immediately."

Although sent from Berlin, the Count was well aware that it was an order
from the Foreign Minister in St. Petersburg, the message being
transmitted to Berlin first, and then retransmitted to London, in order
to avoid any suspicion that might arise in the case of messages
exchanged direct with the Russian capital. Having read the telegram
through several times, he whistled to himself, rose quickly, dressed,
and breakfasted. While having his meal, he gave some instructions to
Grevel, his valet, and sent him out upon an errand, at the same time
expressing his intention of waiting in until his return.

"Remember," the Count said, as his man was going out, "be careful to
arouse no suspicion. Simply make your inquiries in the proper quarter,
and come back immediately."

At half-past twelve o'clock, as Geoffrey Engleheart was busy writing
alone in his room at the Foreign Office, he was interrupted by the
opening of the door.

"Hulloa, dear boy! I've found my way up here by myself. Busy, as usual,
I see!" cried a cheery voice as the door slowly opened, and Geoffrey
looking up saw it was his friend the Count, well groomed and fashionably
attired in glossy silk hat, perfect-fitting frock coat, and varnished
boots. He called very frequently upon Engleheart, and had long ago
placed himself on excellent terms with the messengers and doorkeepers,
who looked upon him as a most generous visitor.

"Oh, how are you?" Engleheart exclaimed, rising and shaking his hand.
"You must really forgive me, Count, but I quite forgot my appointment
with you to-day."

"Oh, don't let me disturb you, pray. I'll have a glance at the paper
till you've finished," and casting himself into a chair near the window
he took up the _Times_ and was soon absorbed in it.

A quarter of an hour went by in silence, while Engleheart wrote on,
calmly unconscious that there was a small rent in the newspaper the
Count was reading, and that through it he could plainly see each word of
the treaty as it was transcribed from the secret code and written down
in plain English.

"Will you excuse me for ten minutes?" Geoffrey exclaimed presently. "The
Cabinet Council is sitting, and I have to run over to see Lord Stanbury
for a moment. After I return I must make another copy of this paper, and
then I shall be free."

The Count, casting the newspaper wearily aside, glanced at his watch.

"It's half-past one," he said. "You'll be another half-hour, if not
more. After all, I really think, old fellow, I'll go on down to
Hurlingham. I arranged to meet the Vaynes at two o'clock."

"All right. I'll run down in a cab as soon as I can get away," answered
Engleheart.

"Good. Come on as soon as you can. Violet will be expecting you, you
know."

"Of course I shall," replied his unsuspicious friend, and they shook
hands, after which the Count put on his hat and sauntered jauntily out.

In Parliament Street he jumped into his phaeton, but instead of driving
to Hurlingham gave his man orders to proceed with all speed to the
General Post Office, St. Martin's-le-Grand. Within half an hour from the
time he had shaken the hand of his unsuspecting friend, a message in
code--to all intents and purposes a commercial despatch--was on its way
to "Herr Brandt, 116 Friedrich Strasse, Berlin."

That message contained an exact transcript of the secret treaty!

[Illustration: THE RUSSIAN SPY'S TELEGRAM.]

Almost immediately after the Count had left, Geoffrey made a discovery.
From the floor he picked up a small gold pencil-case which he knew
belonged to von Beilstein.

Engleheart was sorely puzzled to know why the Count should require a
pencil if not to write, and it momentarily flashed across his mind that
he might have copied portions of the treaty. But the next minute he
dismissed the suspicion as ungrounded and preposterous, and placing the
pencil in his pocket went in search of Lord Stanbury.

It was only the statement he read in the _People_ later, alleging
treachery at the Foreign Office, that recalled the incident to his mind.
Then the horrible truth dawned upon him. He saw how probable it was that
he had been tricked.

He knew that the mine was already laid; that the only thing that had
prevented an explosion that would shake the whole world had been the
absence of definite knowledge as to the exact terms of the alliance
between England, Germany, Italy, and Austria.




CHAPTER V.

BOMBARDMENT OF NEWHAVEN.


At sea the night was dark and moonless. A thick mist hung near the land.
The Coastguard and Artillery on our southern and eastern shores spent a
terribly anxious time, peering from their points of vantage out into the
cavernous darkness where no light glimmered. The Harbour Defence
Flotilla was in readiness, and under the black cliffs sentinels kept
watch with every nerve strained to its highest tension, for the safety
of England now depended upon their alertness. The great waves crashed
and roared, and the mist, obscuring the light of vessels passing up and
down the Channel, seemed to grow more dense as the hours wore on.

In the midst of the feverish excitement that had spread everywhere
throughout the length and breadth of the land, the troops were, a couple
of hours after the receipt of the alarming news in London, already being
mobilised and on their way south and east by special trains. Men, arms,
ammunition, and stores were hurried forward to repel attack, and in the
War Office and Admiralty, where the staffs had been suddenly called
together, the greatest activity prevailed. Messages had been flashed
along the wires in every direction giving orders to mobilise and
concentrate at certain points, and these instructions were being obeyed
with that promptness for which British soldiers and sailors are
proverbial.

Yet the high officials at the War Office looked grave, and although
affecting unconcern, now and then whispered ominously together. They
knew that the situation was critical. An immediate and adequate naval
defence was just possible, but the Channel Squadron was manoeuvring off
the Irish coast, and both the Coastguard Squadron and the Steam Reserve
at the home ports were very weak. It was to our land army that we had to
trust, and they were divided in opinion as to the possibility to
mobilise a sufficient force in time to bar the advance.

Military experts did not overlook the fact that to Dunkirk, Calais,
Boulogne, Dieppe, Fecamp, Havre, Honfleur, and Cherbourg ran excellent
lines of railway, with ample rolling-stock, all Government property, and
at the beck and call of the French War Minister. In the various ports
there was adequate wharf accommodation and plenty of steam tonnage. From
the brief official despatches received from Paris before the cutting of
the wires, it was apparent that the French War Office had laid its plans
with much forethought and cunning, and had provided against any
_contretemps_. An army of carpenters and engineers had been put to work
in the ports to alter the fittings of such of the merchant steamers as
were destined to convey horses, and these fittings, prepared beforehand,
were already in position. Four army corps had for several weeks been
manoeuvring in Normandy, so that the Reservists had become accustomed to
their work, and in excellent condition for war; therefore these facts,
coupled with the strong support certain to be rendered by the warships
of the Tsar, led experts to regard the outlook as exceedingly gloomy.

For years military and naval men had discussed the possibilities of
invasion, haggled over controversial points, but had never arrived at
any definite opinion as to the possibility of an enemy's success. Now,
however, the defences of the country were to be tested.

Our great Empire was at stake.

The power of steam to cause rapid transit by land and sea, the
uncertainty of the place of disembarkment, and the great weight of
modern naval artillery, combined to render the defences of England on
the coast itself most uncertain and hazardous, and to cause grave doubts
to arise in the minds of those who at that critical moment were
directing the forward movement of the forces.

The British public, whose national patriotism found vent in expressions
of confidence in the Regular Army and Volunteers, were ignorant of the
facts. They knew that two great Powers had combined to crush our island
stronghold, and were eager that hostilities should commence in order
that the enemy should be taught a severe lesson for their presumption.

They, however, knew nothing of the plain truth, that although the 1st
Army Corps at Aldershot would be ready to move at a few hours' notice,
yet it was hopeless to try and prevent the disembarkation of the French
army corps along a long line of unprotected coast by the action of a
land force only one-third of their strength.

So, by the water's edge, the lonely posts were kept through the night by
patient, keen-sighted sentinels, ready at any moment to raise the alarm.
But the dense mist that overhung everything was tantalising, hiding
friend and foe alike, and no sound could be heard above the heavy roar
of the waters as they rolled in over the rocks.

London, infuriated, enthusiastic, turbulent, knew no sleep that night.
The excitement was at fever-heat. At last, soon after daybreak, there
came the first news of the enemy. A number of warships had suddenly
appeared through the fog off the Sussex coast, and had lost no time in
asserting their presence and demanding a large sum from the Mayor of
Newhaven.

The French first-class battery cruiser _Tage_, the _Devastation_, the
_Pothuau_, the _Arethuse_ and others, finding that their demand was
unheeded, at once commenced shelling the town. Although our Coastguard
Squadron and first-class Steam Reserve had mobilised, yet they had
received orders and sailed away no one knew whither. The forts replied
vigorously, but the fire of the enemy in half an hour had wrought
terrible havoc both in the town and in the forts, where several of the
guns had been rendered useless and a number of men had been killed.
Hostilities had commenced.

Never during the century had such scenes been witnessed in the streets
of London as on that memorable Sunday morning. The metropolis was
thrilled.

Dawn was spreading, saffron tints were in the sky heralding the sun's
coming. Yet Regent Street, Piccadilly, and the Strand, usually entirely
deserted at that hour on a Sabbath morning, were crowded as if it were
midday.

Everywhere there was excitement. Crowds waited in front of the newspaper
offices in Fleet Street, boys with strident voices sold the latest
editions of the papers, men continued their snatches of patriotic
ballads, while women were blanched and scared, and children clung to
their mothers' skirts timidly, vaguely fearing an unknown terror.

The shadow of coming events was black and dim, like a funeral pall. The
fate of our Empire hung upon a thread.

Twenty-four hours ago England was smiling, content in the confidence of
its perfect safety and immunity from invasion; yet all the horrors of
war had, with a startling, appalling suddenness, fallen and bewildered
it. The booming of French cannon at Newhaven formed the last salute of
many a brave Briton who fell shattered and lifeless.

As the sun rose crimson from the grey misty sea, the work of destruction
increased in vigour. From the turrets of the floating monsters smoke and
flame poured forth in continuous volume, while shot and shell were
hurled into the town of Newhaven, which, it was apparent, was the centre
of the enemy's attack, and where, owing to the deepening of the harbour,
troops could effect a landing under cover of the fire from the
ironclads.

Frightful havoc was wrought by the shells among the houses of the little
town, and one falling on board the Brighton Railway Company's mail
steamer _Paris_, lying alongside the station quay, set her on fire. In
half an hour railway station and quays were blazing furiously, while the
flames leaped up about the ship, wrapping themselves about the two
white funnels and darting from every porthole.

The Custom House opposite quickly ignited, and the inflammable nature of
its contents caused the fire to assume enormous proportions. Meanwhile
the bombardment was kept up, the forts on shore still replying with
regularity, steadiness, and precision, and the armoured coast train of
the 1st Sussex Artillery Volunteers, under Captain Brigden, rendering
excellent service. In one of the forts a man was standing in front of a
small camera-obscura, on the glass of which were a number of mysterious
marks. This glass reflected the water and the ships; and as he stood by
calmly with his hand upon a keyboard, he watched the reflections of the
hostile vessels moving backwards and forwards over the glass. Suddenly
he saw a French gunboat, after a series of smartly-executed manoeuvres,
steaming straight over one of the marks, and, quick as lightning, his
finger pressed one of the electric keys. A terrific explosion followed,
and a column of green water shot up at the same instant. The gunboat
_Lavel_ had been suddenly blown almost out of the water by a submarine
mine! Broken portions of her black hull turned over and sank, and
mangled remains of what a second before had been a crew of enthusiastic
Frenchmen floated for a few moments on the surface, then disappeared.
Not a soul on board escaped.

Along the telegraph line from the signal-station on Beachy Head news of
the blowing up of the enemy's gunboat was flashed to London, and when,
an hour later, it appeared in the newspapers, the people went half mad
with excitement. Alas, how they miscalculated the relative strength of
the opposing forces!

They were unaware that our Channel Fleet, our Coastguard Squadron, and
our Reserve were steaming away, leaving our southern shores _practically
unprotected_!




CHAPTER VI.

LANDING OF THE FRENCH IN SUSSEX.


The Briton is, alas! too prone to underrate his adversary. It is this
national egotism, this fatal over-confidence, that has led to most of
the reverses we have sustained in recent wars.

The popular belief that one Briton is as good as half a dozen
foreigners, is a fallacy which ought to be at once expunged from the
minds of every one. The improved and altered conditions under which
international hostilities are carried on nowadays scarcely even admit of
a hand-to-hand encounter, and the engines of destruction designed by
other European Powers being quite as perfect as our own, tact and
cunning have now taken the place of pluck and perseverance. The strong
arm avails but little in modern warfare; strategy is everything.

Into Brighton, an hour after dawn, the enemy's vessels were pouring
volley after volley of deadly missiles. A party had landed from the
French flagship, and, summoning the Mayor, had demanded a million
pounds. This not being forthcoming, they had commenced shelling the
town. The fire was, for the most part, directed against the long line of
shops and private residences in King's Road and at Hove, and in half an
hour over a hundred houses had been demolished. The palatial Hotel
Metropole stood a great gaunt ruin. Shells had carried large portions of
the noble building away, and a part of the ruin had caught fire and was
burning unchecked, threatening to consume the whole. Church steeples
had been knocked over like ninepins, and explosive missiles dropped in
the centre of the town every moment, sweeping the streets with deadly
effect. The enemy met with little or no opposition. Our first line of
defence, our Navy, was missing! The Admiralty were unaware of the
whereabouts of three whole Fleets that had mobilised, and the ships
remaining in the Channel, exclusive of the Harbour Defence Flotilla,
were practically useless.

At Eastbourne, likewise, where a similar demand had been made, shot fell
thick as hail, and shells played fearful havoc with the handsome
boarding-houses and hotels that line the sea front. From the redoubt,
the Wish Tower, and a battery on the higher ground towards Beachy Head,
as well as a number of other hastily constructed earthworks, a reply was
made to the enemy's fire, and the guns in the antiquated martello
towers, placed at intervals along the beach, now and then sent a shot
towards the vessels. But such an attempt to keep the great ironclads at
bay was absurdly futile. One after another shells from the monster guns
of the Russian ship _Pjotr Velikij_, and the armoured cruisers _Gerzog
Edinburskij_, _Krejser_, and _Najezdnik_, crashed into these out-of-date
coast defences, and effectually silenced them. In Eastbourne itself the
damage wrought was enormous. Every moment shells fell and exploded in
Terminus and Seaside Roads, while the aristocratic suburb of Upperton,
built on the hill behind the town, was exposed to and bore the full
brunt of the fray. The fine modern Queen Anne and Elizabethan residences
were soon mere heaps of burning debris. Every moment houses fell,
burying their occupants, and those people who rushed out into the roads
for safety were, for the most part, either overwhelmed by debris, or had
their limbs shattered by flying pieces of shell.

The situation was awful. The incessant thunder of cannon, the screaming
of shells whizzing through the air, to burst a moment later and send a
dozen or more persons to an untimely grave, the crash of falling walls,
the clouds of smoke and dust, and the blazing of ignited wreckage,
combined to produce a scene more terrible than any witnessed in England
during the present century.

And all this was the outcome of one man's indiscretion and the cunning
duplicity of two others!

At high noon Newhaven fell into the hands of the enemy.

The attack had been so entirely unexpected that the troops mobilised and
sent there had arrived too late. The town was being sacked, and the
harbour was in the possession of the French, who were landing their
forces in great numbers. From Dieppe and Havre transports were arriving,
and discharging their freights of fighting men and guns under cover of
the fire from the French warships lying close in land.

Notwithstanding all the steps taken during the last twenty years to
improve the condition of our forces on land and sea, this outbreak of
hostilities found us far from being in a state of preparedness for war.
England, strangely enough, has never yet fully realised that the
conditions of war have entirely changed. In days gone by, when troops
and convoys could move but slowly, the difficulty of providing for
armies engaged in operations necessarily limited their strength. It is
now quite different. Improved communications have given to military
operations astonishing rapidity, and the facilities with which large
masses of troops, guns, and stores can now be transported to great
distances has had the effect of proportionately increasing numbers. As a
result of this, with the exception of our own island, Europe was armed
to the teeth. Yet a mobilisation arrangement that was faulty and not
clearly understood by officers or men, was the cause of the enemy being
allowed to land. It is remarkable that the military authorities had not
acted upon the one principle admitted on every side, namely, that the
only effective defence consists of attack. The attack, to succeed,
should have been sudden and opportune, and the Army should have been so
organised that on the occurrence of war a force of adequate strength
would have been at once available.

In a word, we missed our chance to secure this inestimable advantage
afforded by the power of striking the first blow.

There was an old and true saying, that "England's best bulwarks were her
wooden walls." They are no longer wooden, but it still remains an
admitted fact that England's strongest bulwarks should be her Navy, and
that any other nation may be possessed of an equally good one; also that
our best bulwark should be equal to, or approach, the fighting power of
the bulwarks owned by any two possible hostile nations.

To be strong is to stave off war; to be weak is to invite attack. It was
our policy of _laissez faire_, a weak Navy and an Army bound up with red
tape, that caused this disastrous invasion of England. Had our Fleet
been sufficient for its work, invasion would have remained a threat, and
nothing more. Our Navy was not only our first, but our last line of
defence from an Imperial point of view; for, as a writer in the _Army
and Navy Gazette_ pointed out in 1893, it was equally manifest and
unquestionable that without land forces to act as the spearhead to the
Navy's over-sea shaft, the offensive tactics so essential to a thorough
statesmanlike defensive policy could not be carried out. Again, the
mobility and efficiency of our Regular Army should have been such that
the victory of our Fleet could be speedily and vigorously followed by
decisive blows on the enemy's territory.

Already the news of the landing of the enemy had--besides causing a
thrill such as had never before been known in our "tight little
island"--produced its effect upon the price of food in London as
elsewhere. In England we had only five days' bread-stuffs, and as the
majority of our supplies came from Russia the price of bread trebled
within twelve hours, and the ordinary necessaries of life were
proportionately dearer.

But the dice had been thrown, and the sixes lay with Moloch.




CHAPTER VII.

BOMB OUTRAGES IN LONDON.


On that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, scenes were witnessed in the
metropolis which were of the most disgraceful character. The teeming
city, from dawn till midnight, was in a feverish turmoil, the throngs in
its streets discussing the probable turn of affairs, singing patriotic
songs, and giving vent to utterances of heroic intentions interspersed
with much horse play.

In Trafalgar Square, the hub of London, a mass meeting of Anarchists and
Socialists was held, at which the Government and military authorities
were loudly denounced for what was termed their criminal apathy to the
interests and welfare of the nation. The Government, it was contended,
had betrayed the country by allowing the secret of the German alliance
to fall into the hands of its enemies, and the Ministers, adjudged
unworthy the confidence of the nation, were by the resolutions adopted
called upon to resign immediately. The crisis was an excuse for
Anarchism to vent its grievances against law and order, and, unshackled,
it had spread with rapidity through the length and breadth of the land.
In "The Square" the scarlet flag and the Cap of Liberty were everywhere
in evidence, and, notwithstanding the presence of the police, the
leaders of Anarchy openly advocated outrage, incendiarism, and murder.
At length the police resolved to interfere, and this was the signal for
a terrible uprising. The huge mob, which in the mellow sunset filled
the great Square and blocked all its approaches, became a seething,
surging mass of struggling humanity. The attack by the police, who were
ordered to disperse them, only incensed them further against the
authorities, whom they blamed for the catastrophe that had befallen our
country. Angry and desperate they fought with the police, using both
revolvers and knives.

The scene was terrible. The scum of the metropolis had congregated to
wage war against their own compatriots whom they classed among enemies,
and for an hour in the precincts of the Square the struggle was for
life. Dozens of constables were shot dead, hundreds of Anarchists and
Socialists received wounds from batons, many succumbing to their
injuries, or being trampled to death by the dense mob. It was a
repetition of that historic day known as "Bloody Sunday," only the fight
was more desperate and the consequences far worse, and such as would
disgrace any civilised city.

Before sundown the police had been vanquished; and as no soldiers could
be spared, Anarchism ran riot in the Strand, Pall Mall, St. Martin's
Lane, Northumberland Avenue, and Parliament Street. Pale, determined
men, with faces covered with blood, and others with their clothes in
shreds, shouted hoarse cries of victory, as, headed by a torn red flag,
they rushed into Pall Mall and commenced breaking down the shutters of
shops and looting them. Men were knocked down and murdered, and the
rioters, freed from all restraint, commenced sacking all establishments
where it was expected spoil could be obtained. At one bank in Pall Mall
they succeeded, after some difficulty, in breaking open the strong room
with explosives, and some forty or fifty of the rebels with eager
greediness shared the gold and notes they stole.

At the Strand corner of the Square a squad of police was being formed,
in order to co-operate with some reinforcements which were arriving,
when suddenly there was a terrific explosion.

A bomb filled with picric acid had been thrown by an Anarchist, and when
the smoke cleared, the shattered remains of thirty-four constables lay
strewn upon the roadway!

This was but the first of a series of dastardly outrages. The advice of
the Anarchist leaders in their inflammatory speeches had been acted
upon, and in half an hour a number of bomb explosions had occurred in
the vicinity, each doing enormous damage, and killing numbers of
innocent persons. After the petard had been thrown in Trafalgar Square a
loud explosion was almost immediately afterwards heard in Parliament
Street, and it was soon known that a too successful attempt had been
made to blow up the Premier's official residence in Downing Street. The
programme of the outrages had apparently been organised, for almost
before the truth was known another even more disastrous explosion
occurred in the vestibule of the War Office in Pall Mall, which wrecked
the lower part of the building, and blew to atoms the sentry on duty,
and killed a number of clerks who were busy at their important duties in
the apartments on the ground floor.

Through Pall Mall and along Whitehall the mob ran, crying "Down with the
Government! Kill the traitors! Kill them!" About three thousand of the
more lawless, having looted a number of shops, rushed to the Houses of
Parliament, arriving there just in time to witness the frightful havoc
caused by the explosion of two terribly powerful bombs that had been
placed in St. Stephen's Hall and in Westminster Abbey.

A section of the exultant rioters had gained access to the National
Gallery, where they carried on ruthless destruction among the priceless
paintings there. Dozens of beautiful works were slashed with knives,
others were torn down, and many, cut from their frames, were flung to
the howling crowd outside. Suddenly some one screamed, "What do we want
with Art? Burn down the useless palace! Burn it! Burn it!"

This cry was taken up by thousands of throats, and on every hand the
rebels inside the building were urged to set fire to it. Intoxicated
with success, maddened by anger at the action of the police, and
confident that they had gained a signal victory over the law, they piled
together a number of historic paintings in one of the rooms, and then
ignited them. The flames leaped to the ceiling, spread to the woodwork,
and thence, with appalling rapidity, to the other apartments. The
windows cracked, and clouds of smoke and tongues of fire belched forth
from them.

It had now grown dusk. The furious, demoniacal rabble surging in the
Square set up loud, prolonged cheering when they saw the long dark
building burning. In delight they paused in their work of destruction,
watching the flames growing brighter as they burst through the roof,
licking the central dome; and while the timber crackled and the fire
roared, casting a lurid glare upon the tall buildings round and lighting
up the imposing facade of the Grand Hotel, they cheered vociferously and
sang the "Marseillaise" until the smoke half choked them and their
throats grew hoarse.

These denizens of the slums, these criminal crusaders against the law,
were not yet satiated by their wild reckless orgies. Unchecked, they had
run riot up and down the Strand, and there was scarcely a man among them
who had not in his pocket some of the spoils from jewellers' or from
banks. In the glare of the flames the white bloodstained faces wore a
determined expression as they stood collecting their energies for some
other atrocious outrage against their so-called enemies, the rich.

At the first menace of excesses, dwellers in the locality had left their
houses and fled headlong for safety to other parts of the city. The
majority escaped, but many fell into the hands of the rioters, and were
treated with scant humanity. Men and women were struck down and robbed,
even strangled or shot if they resisted. The scene was frightful--a
terrible realisation of Anarchist prophecies that had rendered the
authorities absolutely helpless. On the one hand, an enemy had landed on
our shores with every chance of a successful march to London, while on
the other the revolutionary spirit had broken out unmistakably among the
criminal class, and lawlessness and murder were everywhere rife.

The homes of the people were threatened by double disaster--by the
attack of both enemy and "friend." The terrible bomb outrages and their
appalling results had completely disorganised the police, and although
reinforcements had been telegraphed for from every division in London,
the number of men mustered at Scotland Yard was not yet sufficient to
deal effectually with the irate and rapidly increasing mob.

As evening wore on the scenes in the streets around the Square were
terrible. Pall Mall was congested by the angry mob who were wrecking the
clubs, when suddenly the exultant cries were succeeded by terrified
shrieks mingled with fierce oaths. Each man fought with his neighbour,
and many men and women, crushed against iron railings, stood half
suffocated and helpless. The National Gallery was burning fiercely,
flames from the great burning pile shot high in the air, illuminating
everything with their flood of crimson light, and the wind, blowing down
the crowded thoroughfare, carried smoke, sparks, and heat with it.

Distant shrieks were heard in the direction of the Square, and suddenly
the crowd surged wildly forward. Gaol-birds from the purlieus of Drury
Lane robbed those who had valuables or money upon them, and committed
brutal assaults upon the unprotected. A moment later, however, there was
a flash, and the deafening sound of firearms at close quarters was
followed by the horrified shrieks of the yelling mob. Again and again
the sound was repeated. Around them bullets whistled, and men and women
fell forward dead and wounded with terrible curses upon their lips.

The 10th Hussars had just arrived from Hounslow, and having received
hurried orders to clear away the rioters, were shooting them down like
dogs, without mercy. On every hand cries of agony and despair rose above
the tumult. Then a silence followed, for the street was thickly strewn
with corpses.




CHAPTER VIII.

FATEFUL DAYS FOR THE OLD FLAG.


A cloudy moonless night, with a gusty wind which now and then swept the
tops of the forest trees, causing the leaves to surge like a summer sea.

Withered branches creaked and groaned, and a dog howled dismally down in
Flimwell village, half a mile away. Leaning with his back against the
gnarled trunk of a giant oak on the edge of the forest, his ears alert
for the slightest sound, his hand upon his loaded magazine rifle,
Geoffrey Engleheart stood on outpost duty. Dressed in a rough shooting
suit, with a deerstalker hat and an improvised kit strapped upon his
back, he was half hidden by the tall bracken. Standing motionless in the
deep shadow, with his eyes fixed upon the wide stretch of sloping
meadows, he waited, ready, at the slightest appearance of the enemy's
scouts, to raise the alarm and call to arms those who were sleeping in
the forest after their day's march.

The City Civilian Volunteer Battalion which he had joined was on its way
to take part in the conflict, which every one knew would be desperate.
Under the command of Major Mansford, an experienced elderly officer who
had long since retired from the Lancashire Regiment, but who had at once
volunteered to lead the battalion of young patriots, they had left
London by train for Maidstone, whence they marched by way of Linton,
Marden, and Goudhurst to Frith Wood, where they had bivouacked for the
night on the Sussex border.

It was known that Russian scouts had succeeded in getting as far as
Wadhurst, and it was expected that one of the French reconnoitring
parties must, in their circuitous survey, pass the border of the wood on
their way back to their own lines. Up to the present they had been
practically unmolested. The British army was now mobilised, and Kent,
Sussex, and Hampshire were overrun with soldiers. Every household gave
men accommodation voluntarily, every hostelry, from the aristocratic
hotels of the watering-places to the unassuming Red Lions of the
villages, was full of Britain's brave defenders. The echoes of old-world
village streets of thatched houses with quaint gables were awakened
night and day by the rumbling of heavy artillery, the shouts of the
drivers as they urged along their teams, and the rattle of ammunition
carts and of ambulance waggons, while on every high road leading south
battalions were on the march, and eager to come within fighting range of
the audacious foreigners.

At first the peaceful people of the villages gazed, wondered, and
admired, thinking some manoeuvres were about to take place--for military
manoeuvres always improve village trade. But they were very quickly
disillusioned. When they knew the truth--that the enemy was actually at
their doors, that the grey-coated masses of the Russian legions were
lying like packs of wolves in the undulating country between Heathfield,
Etchingham, and the sea--they were panic-stricken and appalled. They
watched the stream of redcoats passing their doors, cheering them, while
those who were their guests were treated to the best fare their hosts
could provide.

Tommy Atkins was now the idol of the hour.

Apparently the enemy, having established themselves, were by no means
anxious to advance with undue haste. Having landed, they were, it was
ascertained, awaiting the arrival of further reinforcements and
armaments from both Powers; but nothing definite was known of this,
except some meagre details that had filtered through the American
cables, all direct telegraphic communication with the Continent having
now been cut off.

Alas! Moloch had grinned. He had sharpened his sickle for the terrible
carnage that was to spread through Albion's peaceful land.

Terrible was the panic that the invasion had produced in the North.

Food had risen to exorbitant prices. In the great manufacturing centres
the toiling millions were already feeling the pinch of starvation, for
with bread at ninepence a small loaf, meat at a prohibitive figure, and
the factories stopped, they were compelled to remain with empty stomachs
and idle hands.

Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, Newcastle, and the larger towns
presented a gloomy, sorry aspect. Business was suspended, the majority
of the shops were closed, the banks barred and bolted, and the only
establishments where any trade flourished were the taverns and music
halls. These were crowded. Drink flowed, gold jingled, and the laughter
at wild jest or the thunder of applause which greeted dancing girls and
comic vocalists was still as hearty as of old. Everywhere there was a
sordid craving for amusement which was a reflex of the war fever. The
people made merry, for ere long they might be cut down by a foeman's
steel.

Restless impatience thrilled the community from castle to cottage,
intensified by the vain clamourings of Anarchist mobs in the greater
towns. As in London, these shock-headed agitators held high revel,
protesting against everything and everybody--now railing, now
threatening, but always mustering converts to their harebrained
doctrines. In Manchester they were particularly strong. A number of
serious riots had occurred in Deansgate and in Market Street. The mob
wrecked the Queen's Hotel, smashed numbers of windows in Lewis's great
emporium, looted the _Guardian_ office, and set fire to the Town Hall. A
portion of the latter only was burned, the fire brigade managing to
subdue the flames before any very serious damage was occasioned.
Although the police made hundreds of arrests, and the stipendiary sat
from early morning until late at night, Anarchist demonstrations were
held every evening in the city and suburbs, always resulting in
pillage, incendiarism, and not unfrequently in murder. In grey,
money-making Stockport, in grimy Salford, in smoky Pendleton, and even
in aristocratic Eccles, these demonstrations were held, and the
self-styled "soldiers of the social revolution" marched over the granite
roads, headed by a dirty scarlet flag, hounding down the Government, and
crying shame upon them for the apathy with which they had regarded the
presence of the bearded Caucasian Tcherkesses of the White Tsar.

The kingdom was in wild turmoil, for horror heaped upon horror. Outrages
that commenced in London were repeated with appalling frequency in the
great towns in the provinces. An attempt had been made to assassinate
the Premier while speaking in the Town Hall, Birmingham, the bomb which
was thrown having killed two hard-working reporters who were writing
near; but the Prime Minister, who seemed to lead a charmed existence,
escaped without a scratch.

In Liverpool, where feeling against the War Office ran high, there were
several explosions, two of which occurred in Bold Street, and were
attended by loss of life, while a number of incendiary fires occurred at
the docks. At Bradford the Town Hall was blown up, and the troops were
compelled to fire on a huge mob of rioters, who, having assembled at
Manningham, were advancing to loot the town.

The cavalry barracks at York was the scene of a terrific explosion,
which killed three sentries and maimed twenty other soldiers; while at
Warwick Assizes, during the hearing of a murder trial, some unknown
scoundrel threw a petard at the judge, killing him instantly on the
bench.

These, however, were but few instances of the wild lawlessness and
terrible anarchy that prevailed in Britain, for only the most flagrant
cases of outrage were reported in the newspapers, their columns being
filled with the latest intelligence from the seat of war.

It must be said that over the border the people were more law-abiding.
The Scotch, too canny to listen to the fiery declamations of hoarse and
shabby agitators, preferred to trust to British pluck and the strong arm
of their brawny Highlanders. In Caledonia the seeds of Anarchy fell on
stony ground.

In Northern and Midland towns, however, the excitement increased hourly.
It extended everywhere. From Ventnor to the Pentlands, from Holyhead to
the Humber, from Scilly to the Nore, every man and every woman existed
in fearfulness of the crash that was impending.

It was now known throughout the breadth of our land that the Government
policy was faulty, that War Office and Admiralty organisation was a
rotten make-believe, and, worst of all, that what critics had long ago
said as to the inadequacy of our naval defence, even with the ships
built under the programme of 1894, had now, alas! proved to be true.

The suspense was awful. Those who were now living in the peaceful
atmospheres of their homes, surrounded by neighbours and friends in the
centre of a great town, and feeling a sense of security, might within a
few days be shot down by French rifles, or mowed down brutally by
gleaming Cossack _shushkas_. The advance of the enemy was expected
daily, hourly; and the people in the North waited, staggered,
breathless, and terrified. Men eagerly scanned the newspapers; women
pressed their children to their breasts.

In the mining districts the shock had not inspired the same amount of
fear as at the ports and in the manufacturing centres. Possibly it was
because work was still proceeding in the pits, and constant work
prevents men from becoming restless, or troubling themselves about a
nation's woes. Toilers who worked below knew that foreign invaders had
landed, and that the Militia and Volunteers had been called out, but
they vaguely believed that, the seat of war being away down south--a
very long distance in the imagination of most of them--everything would
be over before they could be called upon to take part in the struggle.
In any case coal and iron must be got, they argued, and while they had
work they had little time for uneasiness. Nevertheless, great numbers of
stalwart young miners enrolled themselves in the local Volunteer corps,
and burned to avenge the affront to their country and their sovereign.

Those were indeed fateful, ever-to-be-remembered days.

Amid this weary, anxious watching, this constant dread of what might
next occur, an item of news was circulated which caused the greatest
rejoicing everywhere. Intelligence reached New York, by cable from
France, that Germany had combined with England against the
Franco-Russian alliance, that her vast army had been mobilised, and that
already the brave, well-drilled legions of the Emperor William had
crossed the Vosges, and passed the frontier into France. A sharp battle
had been fought near Givet, and that, as well as several other French
frontier towns which fell in 1870, were again in the hands of the
Germans.

How different were German methods to those of the British!

With a perfect scheme of attack, every detail of which had been long
thought out, and which worked without a hitch, the Kaiser's forces were
awaiting the word of command to march onward--to Paris. For years--ever
since they taught France that severe lesson in the last disastrous
war--it had been the ambition of every German cavalryman to clink his
spurs on the asphalte of the Boulevards. Now they were actually on their
way towards their goal!

The papers were full of these latest unexpected developments, the
details of which, necessarily meagre owing to the lack of direct
communication, were eagerly discussed. It was believed that Germany
would, in addition to defending her Polish frontier and attacking
France, also send a naval squadron from Kiel to England.

The Tsar's spy had been foiled, and Russia and France now knew they had
made a false move! Russia's rapid and decisive movement was intended to
prevent the signing of the secret alliance, and to bar England and
Germany from joining hands. But happily the sly machinations of the
Count von Beilstein, the released convict and adventurer, had in a
measure failed, for Germany had considered it diplomatic to throw in
her fortune with Great Britain in this desperate encounter.

A feeling of thankfulness spread through the land. Nevertheless, it was
plain that if Germany intended to wield the double-handled sword of
conquest in France, she would have few troops to spare to send to
England.

But those dark days, full of agonising suspense, dragged on slowly. The
French well knew the imminent danger that threatened their own country,
yet they could not possibly withdraw. Mad enthusiasts always!

It must be war to the death, they decided. The conflict could not be
averted. So Britons unsheathed their steel, and held themselves in
readiness for a fierce and desperate fray.

The invasion had indeed been planned by our enemies with marvellous
forethought and cunning. There was treachery in the Intelligence
Department of the British Admiralty, foul treachery which placed our
country at the mercy of the invader, and sacrificed thousands of lives.
On the morning following the sudden Declaration of War, the officer in
charge of the telegraph bureau at Whitehall, whose duty it had been to
send the telegrams ordering the naval mobilisation, was found lying dead
beside the telegraph instrument--stabbed to the heart! Inquiries were
made, and it was found that one of the clerks, a young Frenchman who had
been taken on temporarily at a low salary, was missing. It was further
discovered that the murder had been committed hours before, immediately
the Mobilisation Orders had been sent; further, that fictitious
telegrams had been despatched cancelling them, and ordering the Channel
Fleet away to the Mediterranean, the Coastguard Squadron to Land's End,
and the first-class Reserve ships to proceed to the North of Scotland in
search of the enemy! Thus, owing to these orders sent by the murderer,
England was left unprotected.

Immediately the truth was known efforts were made to cancel the forged
orders. But, alas! it was too late. Our Fleets had already sailed!




CHAPTER IX.

COUNT VON BEILSTEIN AT HOME.


Karl von Beilstein sat in his own comfortable saddlebag-chair, in his
chambers in the Albany, lazily twisting a cigarette.

On a table at his elbow was spread sheet 319 of the Ordnance Survey Map
of England, which embraced that part of Sussex where the enemy were
encamped. With red and blue pencils he had been making mystic marks upon
it, and had at last laid it aside with a smile of satisfaction.

"She thought she had me in her power," he muttered ominously to himself.
"The wolf! If she knew everything, she could make me crave again at her
feet for mercy. Happily she is in ignorance; therefore that trip to a
more salubrious climate that I anticipated is for the present postponed.
I have silenced her, and am still master of the situation--still the
agent of the Tsar!" Uttering a low laugh, he gave his cigarette a final
twist, and then regarded it critically.

The door opened to admit his valet, Grevel.

"A message from the Embassy. The man is waiting," he said.

His master opened the note which was handed to him, read it with
contracted brows, and said--

"Tell him that the matter shall be arranged as quickly as possible."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing. I am leaving London, and shall not be back for a week--perhaps
longer."

With a slight yawn he rose and passed into his dressing-room, while his
servant went to deliver his message to the man in waiting. The note had
produced a marked effect upon the spy. It was an order from his
taskmasters in St. Petersburg. He knew it must be obeyed. Every moment
was of vital consequence in carrying out the very delicate mission
intrusted to him, a mission which it would require all his tact and
cunning to execute.

In a quarter of an hour he emerged into his sitting-room again, so
completely disguised that even his most intimate acquaintances would
have failed to recognise him. Attired in rusty black, with clean shaven
face and walking with a scholarly stoop, he had transformed himself from
the foppish man-about-town to a needy country parson, whose cheap boots
were down at heel, and in the lappel of whose coat was displayed a piece
of worn and faded blue.

"Listen, Pierre," he said to his man, who entered at his summons. "While
I am away keep your eyes and ears open. If there is a shadow of
suspicion in any quarter, burn all my papers, send me warning through
the Embassy, and clear out yourself without delay. Should matters assume
a really dangerous aspect, you must get down to the Russian lines, where
they will pass you through, and put you on board one of our ships."

"Has the Ministry at Petersburg promised us protection at last?"

"Yes; we have nothing to fear. When the game is up among these lambs, we
shall calmly go over to the other side and witness the fun."

"In what direction are you now going?"

"I don't know," replied the spy, as he unlocked a drawer in a small
cabinet in a niche by the fireplace and took from it a long Circassian
knife. Drawing the bright blade from its leathern sheath, he felt its
keen double edge with his fingers.

It was like a razor.

"A desperate errand--eh?" queried the valet, with a grin, noticing how
carefully the Count placed the murderous weapon in his inner pocket.

"Yes," he answered. "Desperate. A word sometimes means death."

And the simple rural vicar strode out and down the stairs, leaving the
crafty Pierre in wonderment.

"Bah!" the latter exclaimed in disgust, when the receding footsteps had
died away. "So you vainly imagine, my dear Karl, that you have your heel
upon my neck, do you? It is good for me that you don't give me credit
for being a little more wideawake, otherwise you would see that you are
raking the chestnuts from the fire for me. _Bien!_ I am silent, docile,
obedient; I merely wait for you to burn your fingers, then the whole of
the money will be mine to enjoy, while you will be in the only land
where the Tsar does not require secret agents. Vain, avaricious fool!
_You'll be in your grave!_"

Von Beilstein meanwhile sped along down the Haymarket and Pall Mall to
Whitehall. The clock on the stone tower of the Horse Guards showed it
was one o'clock, and, with apparently aimless purpose, he lounged about
on the broad pavement outside Old Scotland Yard, immediately opposite
the dark facade of the Admiralty. His hawk's eye carefully scrutinised
every single person of the busy throng entering or leaving the building.
There was great activity at the naval headquarters, and the courtyard
was crowded with persons hurrying in and out. Presently, after a short
but vigilant watch, he turned quickly so as to be unobserved, and moved
slowly away.

The cause of this sudden manoeuvre was the appearance of a well-dressed,
dark-bearded man of about forty, having the appearance of a naval
officer in mufti, who emerged hastily from the building with a handbag
in his hand, and crossed the courtyard to the kerb, where he stood
looking up and down the thoroughfare.

"My man!" exclaimed von Beilstein, under his breath. "He wants a cab. I
wonder where he's going?"

Five minutes later the naval officer was in a hansom, driving towards
Westminster Bridge, while, at a little distance behind, the Tsar's agent
was following in another conveyance. Once on the trail, the Count never
left his quarry. Crossing the bridge, they drove on rapidly through the
crowded, turbulent streets of South London to the Elephant and Castle,
and thence down the Old Kent Road to the New Cross Station of the
South-Eastern Railway.

As a protest against the action of the Government, and in order to
prevent the enemy from establishing direct communication with London in
case of British reverses, the lines from the metropolis to the south had
been wrecked by the Anarchists. On the Chatham and Dover Railway, Penge
tunnel had been blown up, on the Brighton line two bridges near Croydon
had been similarly treated, and on the South-Eastern four bridges in
Rotherhithe and Bermondsey had been broken up and rendered impassable by
dynamite, while at Haysden, outside Tunbridge, the rails had also been
torn up for a considerable distance. Therefore traffic to the south from
London termini had been suspended, and the few persons travelling were
compelled to take train at the stations in the remoter southern suburbs.

As the unsuspecting officer stepped into the booking-office, his
attention was not attracted by the quiet and seedy clergyman who lounged
near enough to overhear him purchase a first-class ticket for Deal. When
he had descended to the platform the spy obtained a third-class ticket
to the same destination, and leisurely followed him. Travelling by the
same train, they were compelled to alight at Haysden and walk over the
wrecked permanent way into Tunbridge, from which place they journeyed to
Deal, arriving there about six o'clock. Throughout, it was apparent to
the crafty watcher that the man he was following was doing his utmost to
escape observation, and this surmise was strengthened by his actions on
arriving at the quaint old town, now half ruined; for, instead of going
to a first-class hotel, he walked on until he came to Middle Street,--a
narrow little thoroughfare, redolent of fish, running parallel with the
sea,--and took up quarters at the Mariners' Rest Inn. It was a low,
old-fashioned little place, with sanded floors, a smoke-blackened
taproom, a rickety time-mellowed bar, with a comfortable little parlour
beyond.

In this latter room, used in common by the guests, on the following day
the visitor from London first met the shabby parson from Canterbury. The
man from the Admiralty seemed in no mood for conversation; nevertheless,
after a preliminary chat upon the prospect of the invasion, they
exchanged cards, and the vicar gradually became confidential. With a
pious air he related how he had been to Canterbury to conduct a revival
mission which had turned out marvellously successful, crowds having to
be turned away at every service, and how he was now enjoying a week's
vacation before returning to his poor but extensive parish in
Hertfordshire.

"I came to this inn, because I am bound to practise a most rigid
economy," he added. "I am charmed with it. One sees so much character
here in these rough toilers of the sea."

"Yes," replied his friend, whose card bore the words "Commander Yerbery,
R.N." "Being a sailor myself, I prefer this homely little inn, with its
fisher folk as customers, to a more pretentious and less comfortable
establishment."

"Are you remaining here long?" asked his clerical friend.

"I--I really don't know," answered the officer hesitatingly. "Possibly a
day or so."

The spy did not pursue the subject further, but conducted himself with
an amiability which caused his fellow-traveller to regard him as "a real
good fellow for a parson." Together they smoked the long clays of the
hostelry, they sat in the taproom of an evening and conversed with the
fishermen who congregated there, and frequently strolled along by the
shore to Walmer, or through the fields to Cottingham Court Farm, or
Sholden. Constantly, however, Commander Yerbery kept his eyes seaward.
Was he apprehensive lest Russian ironclads should return, and again
bombard the little town; or was he expecting some mysterious signal from
some ship in the Downs?




CHAPTER X.

A DEATH DRAUGHT.


On several occasions the spy had, with artful ingenuity, endeavoured to
discover the object of Commander Yerbery's sojourn, but upon that point
he preserved a silence that was impenetrable. In their wanderings about
the town they saw on every side the havoc caused by the bombardment
which had taken place three days previously. Whole rows of houses facing
the sea had been carried away by the enemy's shells, and the once
handsome church spire was now a mere heap of smouldering debris. The
barracks, which had been one of the objects of attack, had suffered most
severely. Melinite had been projected into them, exploding with
devastating effect, and demolishing the buildings, which fell like packs
of cards. Afterwards, the enemy had sailed away, apparently thinking the
strategical position of the place worthless.

And all this had been brought about by this despicable villain--the man
who had now wrapped himself in the cloak of sanctity, and who, beaming
with well-feigned good fellowship, walked arm-in-arm with the man upon
whom he was keeping the most vigilant observation! By night sleep
scarcely came to his eyes, but in his little room, with its clean
old-fashioned dimity blinds and hangings, he lay awake,--scheming,
planning, plotting, preparing for the master-stroke.

One morning, after they had been there three days, he stood alone in
his bedroom with the door closed. From his inner pocket he drew forth
the keen Circassian blade that reposed there, and gazed thoughtfully
upon it.

"No," he muttered, suddenly rousing himself, as if a thought had
suddenly occurred to him. "He is strong. He might shout, and then I
should be caught like a rat in a trap."

Replacing the knife in his pocket, he took from his vest a tiny phial he
always carried; then, after noiselessly locking the door, he took from
the same pocket a small cube of lump sugar. Standing by the window he
uncorked the little bottle, and with steady hand allowed one single drop
of the colourless liquid to escape and fall upon the sugar, which
quickly absorbed it, leaving a small darkened stain. This sugar he
placed in a locked drawer to dry, and, putting away the phial, descended
to join his companion.

That night they were sitting together in the private parlour behind the
bar, smoking and chatting. It was an old-fashioned, smoke-begrimed room,
with low oak ceiling and high wainscot,--a room in which many a seafarer
had found rest and comfort after the toils and perils of the deep, a
room in which many a stirring tale of the sea has been related, and in
which one of our best-known nautical writers has gathered materials for
his stirring ocean romances.

Although next the bar, there is no entrance on that side, neither is
there any glass, therefore the apartment is entirely secluded from the
public portion of the inn. At midnight the hearty Boniface and his wife
and servant had retired, and the place was silent, but the officer and
his fellow-guest still sat with their pipes. The parson, as became one
who exhibited the blue pledge of temperance in his coat, sipped his
coffee, while the other had whisky, lemon, and a small jug of hot water
beside him. The spy had been using the sugar, and the basin was close to
his hand.

His companion presently made a movement to reach it, when the
pleasant-spoken vicar took up the tongs quickly, saying--

"Allow me to assist you. One lump?"

"Yes, thanks," replied the other, holding his glass for the small cube
to be thrown in. Then he added the lemon, whisky, and hot water.
Beilstein, betraying no excitement, continued the conversation, calmly
refilled his pipe, and watched his companion sip the deadly potion.

Karl von Beilstein had reduced poisoning to a fine art.

Not a muscle of his face contracted, though his keen eyes never left the
other's countenance.

They talked on, the Commander apparently unaffected by the draught; his
friend smilingly complacent and confident.

Suddenly, without warning, the officer's face grew ashen pale and
serious. A violent tremor shook his stalwart frame.

"I--I feel very strange," he cried, with difficulty. "A most curious
sensation has come over me--a sensation as if--as if--ah! heavens! Help,
help!--I--I can't breathe!"

The mild-mannered parson jumped to his feet, and stood before his
friend, watching the hideous contortions of his face.

"Assistance!" his victim gasped, sinking inertly back in the high-backed
Windsor arm-chair. "Fetch me a doctor--quick."

But the man addressed took no heed of the appeal. He stood calmly by,
contemplating with satisfaction his villainous work.

"Can't you see--I'm ill?" the dying man cried in a feeble, piteous
voice. "My throat and head are burning. Give me water--_water_!"

Still the spy remained motionless.

"You--you refuse to assist me--you scoundrel! Ah!" he cried hoarsely, in
dismay. "Ah! I see it all now! _God! You've poisoned me!_"

With a frantic effort he half-raised himself in his chair, but fell back
in a heap; his arms hanging helplessly at his side. His breath came and
went in short hard gasps; the death-rattle was already in his throat,
and with one long deep-drawn sigh the last breath left the body, and the
light gradually died out of the agonised face.

Quick as thought the Count unbuttoned the dead man's coat, and
searching his pockets took out a large white official envelope bearing
in the corner the blue stamp of the Admiralty. It was addressed to "Sir
Michael Culme-Seymour, Admiral commanding the Channel Squadron," and was
marked "Private."

"Good!" ejaculated the spy, as he tore open the envelope. "I was not
mistaken, after all! He was waiting until the flagship came into the
Downs to deliver it."

The envelope contained a letter accompanied by a chart of the South
Coast, upon which were certain marks at intervals in red with minute
directions, as well as a copy of the code of secret signals in which
some slight alterations had lately been made.

"What fortune!" cried the Count gleefully, after reading the note.
"Their plans and the secret of their signals, too, are now ours! The
Embassy were correct in their surmise. With these the French and Russian
ships will be able to act swiftly, and sweep the British from the sea.
Now for London as quickly as possible, for the information will be
absolutely invaluable."

Without a final glance at the corpse, huddled up in its chair, he put on
his hat, and stealing noiselessly from the house, set out in the
moonlight to walk swiftly by way of Great Mongeham and Waldershare to
Shepherd's Well station, whence he could get by train to London.

The immense importance of these secret documents he had not overrated.
Their possession would enable the Russian ships to decipher many of the
hitherto mysterious British signals.

The spy had accomplished his mission!




CHAPTER XI.

THE MASSACRE AT EASTBOURNE.


Hourly the most alarming reports were being received at the War Office,
and at newspaper offices throughout the country, of the
rapidly-increasing forces of the invaders, who were still landing in
enormous numbers. Vague rumours were also afloat of desperate encounters
at sea between our Coastguard Squadron that had returned and the French
and Russian ironclads.

Nothing definite, however, was known. News travelled slowly, and was
always unreliable.

Mobilisation was being hurried forward with all possible speed.
Nevertheless, so sudden had been the descent of the enemy, that
Eastbourne, Newhaven, and Seaford had already fallen into their hands.
Into the half-wrecked town of Eastbourne regiment after regiment of
Russian infantry had been poured by the transports _Samojed_ and
_Artelscik_, while two regiments of dragoons, one of Cossacks, and many
machine-gun sections had also been landed, in addition to a quantity of
French infantry from the other vessels. The streets of the usually
clean, well-ordered town were strewn with the debris of fallen houses
and shops that had been wrecked by Russian shells. The Queen's Hotel at
Splash Point, with its tiers of verandahs and central spire, stood out a
great gaunt blackened ruin.

Along Terminus Road the grey-coated hordes of the Great White Tsar
looted the shops, and showed no quarter to those who fell into their
hands. The Grand Hotel, the Burlington, the Cavendish, and others, were
quickly transformed into barracks, as well as the half-ruined Town Hall,
and the Floral Hall at Devonshire Park.

Robbery, outrage, and murder ran riot in the town, which only a few days
before had been a fashionable health resort, crowded by aristocratic
idlers. Hundreds of unoffending persons had been killed by the merciless
fire from the enemy's battleships, and hundreds more were being shot
down in the streets for attempting a feeble resistance. The inhabitants,
surrounded on all sides by the enemy, were powerless.

The huge guns of the _Pamyat Azova_, the _Imperator Nicolai I._, the
_Pjotr Velikij_, the _Krejser_, the _Najezdnik_, and others, had belched
forth their death-dealing missiles with an effect that was appalling.

The thunder of cannon had ceased, but was now succeeded by the sharp
cracking of Russian rifles, as those who, desperately guarding their
homes and their loved ones, and making a stand against the invaders,
were shot down like dogs. A crowd of townspeople collected in the open
space outside the railway station, prepared to bar the advance of the
Russians towards the Old Town and Upperton. Alas! it was a forlorn hope
for an unarmed mob to attempt any such resistance.

A Russian officer suddenly shouted a word of command that brought a
company of infantry to the halt, facing the crowd. Another word and a
hundred rifles were discharged. Again and again they flashed, and the
volley was repeated until the streets were covered with dead and dying,
and the few who were not struck turned and fled, leaving the invaders to
advance unopposed.

Horrible were the deeds committed that night. English homes were
desecrated, ruined, and burned. Babes were murdered before the eyes of
their parents, many being impaled by gleaming Russian bayonets; fathers
were shot down in the presence of their wives and children, and sons
were treated in a similar manner.

[Illustration: LANDING OF RUSSIANS, AND MASSACRE IN TERMINUS ROAD,
EASTBOURNE.]

The massacre was frightful. Ruin and desolation were on every hand.

The soldiers of the Tsar, savage and inhuman, showed no mercy to the
weak and unprotected. They jeered and laughed at piteous appeal, and
with fiendish brutality enjoyed the destruction which everywhere they
wrought.

Many a cold-blooded murder was committed, many a brave Englishman fell
beneath the heavy whirling sabres of Circassian Cossacks, the bayonets
of French infantry, or the deadly hail of machine guns. Battalion after
battalion of the enemy, fierce and ruthless, clambered on over the
debris in Terminus Road, enthusiastic at finding their feet upon English
soil. The flames of the burning buildings in various parts of the town
illuminated the place with a bright red glare that fell upon dark
bearded faces, in every line of which was marked determination and
fierce hostility. Landing near Langney Point, many of the battalions
entered the town from the east, destroying all the property they came
across on their line of advance, and, turning into Terminus Road, then
continued through Upperton and out upon the road leading to Willingdon.

The French forces, who came ashore close to Holywell, on the other side
of the town, advanced direct over Warren Hill, and struck due north
towards Sheep Lands.

At about a mile from the point where the road from Eastdean crosses that
to Jevington, the force encamped in a most advantageous position upon
Willingdon Hill, while the Russians who advanced direct over St.
Anthony's Hill, and those who marched through Eastbourne, united at a
point on the Lewes Road near Park Farm, and after occupying Willingdon
village, took up a position on the high ground that lies between it and
Jevington.

From a strategic point of view the positions of both forces were
carefully chosen. The commanding officers were evidently well acquainted
with the district, for while the French commanded Eastbourne and a wide
stretch of the Downs, the Russians also had before them an extensive
tract of country extending in the north to Polegate, in the west to the
Fore Down and Lillington, and in the east beyond Willingdon over
Pevensey Levels to the sea.

During the night powerful search-lights from the French and Russian
ships swept the coast continually, illuminating the surrounding hills
and lending additional light to the ruined and burning town. Before the
sun rose, however, the majority of the invading vessels had rounded
Beachy Head, and had steamed away at full speed down Channel.

[Illustration: MAP SHOWING THE POINTS WHERE THE INVADERS LANDED.]

Daylight revealed the grim realities of war. It showed Eastbourne with
its handsome buildings scorched and ruined, its streets blocked by
fallen walls, and trees which had once formed shady boulevards torn up
and broken, its shops looted, its tall church steeples blown away, its
railway station wrecked, and its people massacred. Alas! their
life-blood was wet upon the pavements.

The French and Russian legions, ever increasing, covered the hills. The
heavy guns of the French artillery and the lighter but more deadly
machine guns of the Russians had already been placed in position, and
were awaiting the order to move north and commence the assault on
London.

It was too late! Nothing could now be done to improve the rotten state
of our defences. The invasion had begun, and Britain, handicapped alike
on land and on sea, must arm and fight to the death.

By Tuesday night, three days after the Declaration of War, two French
and half a Russian army corps, amounting to 90,000 officers and men,
with 10,000 horses and 1500 guns and waggons, had landed, in addition to
which reinforcements constantly arrived from the French Channel and
Russian Baltic ports, until the number of the enemy on English soil was
estimated at over 300,000.

The overwhelming descent on our shores had been secretly planned by the
enemy with great forethought, every detail having been most carefully
arranged. The steam tonnage in the French harbours was ample and to
spare, for many of the vessels, being British, had been at once seized
on the outbreak of hostilities. The sudden interruption of the mail and
telegraphic services between the two countries left us in total
ignorance of the true state of affairs. Nevertheless, for weeks an army
of carpenters and engineers had been at work preparing the necessary
fittings, which were afterwards placed in position on board the ships
destined to convey horses and men to England.

In order to deceive the other Powers, a large number of military
transport vessels had been fitted out at Brest for a bogus expedition to
Dahomey. These ships actually put to sea on the day previous to the
Declaration of War, and on Saturday night, at the hour when the news
reached Britain, they had already embarked guns, horses, and waggons at
the Channel ports. Immediately after the Tsar's manifesto had been
issued the Russian Volunteer Fleet was mobilised, and transports which
had long been held in readiness in the Baltic harbours embarked men and
guns, and, one after another, steamed away for England without the
slightest confusion or any undue haste.




CHAPTER XII.

IN THE EAGLE'S TALONS.


Many British military and naval writers had ridiculed the idea of a
surprise invasion without any attempt on the part of the enemy to gain
more than a partial and temporary control of the Channel. Although an
attack on territory without having previously command of the sea had
generally been foredoomed to failure, it had been long ago suggested by
certain military officers in the course of lectures at the United
Service Institution, that under certain conditions such invasion was
possible, and that France might ere long be ruled by some ambitious
soldier who might be tempted to try a sudden dash on _le perfide
Albion_. They pointed out that at worst it would entail on France the
loss of three or four army corps, a loss no greater than she would
suffer in one short land campaign. But alas! at that time very little
notice was taken of such criticisms and illustrations, for Britons had
always been prone to cast doubts upon the power of other nations to
convey troops by sea, to embark them, or to land them. Thus the many
suggestions directed towards increasing the mobility and efficiency of
the Army were, like other warnings, cast aside, the prevailing opinion
in the country being that sudden invasion was an absolute impossibility.

Predictions of prophets that had so long been scorned, derided, and
disregarded by an apathetic British public were rapidly being fulfilled.
Coming events had cast dark shadows that had been unheeded, and now the
unexpected bursting of the war cloud produced panic through our land.

General Sir Archibald Alison struck an alarming note of warning when he
wrote in _Blackwood_ in December 1893: "No one can look carefully into
the present state of Europe without feeling convinced that it cannot
continue long in its present condition. Every country is maintaining an
armed force out of all proportion to its resources and population, and
the consequent strain upon its monetary system and its industrial
population is ever increasing, and must sooner or later become
unbearable."

It had never been sufficiently impressed upon the British public, that
when mobilised for war, and with all the Reserves called out, Russia had
at her command 2,722,000 officers and men, while France could put
2,715,000 into the field, making a total force of the Franco-Russian
Armies of 5,437,000 men, with 9920 field guns and 1,480,000 horses.

This well-equipped force was almost equal to the combined Armies of the
Triple Alliance, Germany possessing 2,441,000, Austria 1,590,000, and
Italy 1,909,000, a total of 5,940,000 officers and men, with 8184 field
guns and 813,996 horses.

Beside these enormous totals, how ridiculously small appeared the
British Army, with its Regular forces at home and abroad amounting to
only 211,600 of all ranks, 225,400 Volunteers, and 74,000 Reserves, or
511,000 fighting men! Of these, only 63,000 Regulars remained in England
and Wales, therefore our Reserves and Volunteers were the chief
defenders of our homes.

What a mere handful they appeared side by side with these huge European
Armies!

Was it not surprising that in such circumstances the constant warnings
regarding the weakness of our Navy--the force upon which the very life
of our Empire depended--should have been unheeded by the too confident
public?

When we were told plainly by a well-known authority that the number of
our war vessels was miserably inadequate, that we were 10,000 men and
1000 officers short, and, among other things, that a French cruiser
had, for all practical purposes, three times the fighting efficiency of
an English cruiser, no one troubled. Nor was any one aroused from his
foolishly apathetic confidence in British supremacy at sea. True, our
Navy was strengthened to a certain extent in 1894, but hard facts,
solemn warnings, gloomy forebodings, all were, alas! cast aside among
the "scares" which crop up periodically in the press during a
Parliamentary recess, and which, on the hearing of a murder trial, or a
Society scandal, at once fizzle out and are dismissed for ever.

On this rude awakening to the seriousness of the situation, Service men
now remembered distinctly the prophetic words of the few students of
probable invasion. Once they had regarded them as based on wild
improbabilities, but now they admitted that the facts were as
represented, and that critics had foreseen catastrophe.

Already active steps had been taken towards the defence of London.

Notwithstanding the serious defects in the mobilisation scheme, the 1st
Army Corps, formed at Aldershot under Sir Evelyn Wood, and three cavalry
brigades, were now in the field, while the other army corps were being
rapidly conveyed southwards.

Independently of the Field Army, the Volunteers had mobilised, and were
occupying the lines north and south of the metropolis. This force of
Volunteer infantry consisted of 108,300 officers and men, of whom
73,000, with 212 guns, were placed on the line south of the Thames.

It stretched along the hills from Guildford in Surrey to Halstead in
Kent, with intermediate concentration points at Box Hill and Caterham.
At the latter place an efficient garrison had been established,
consisting of 4603 of all ranks of the North London Brigade, 4521 of the
West London, 5965 of the South London, 5439 of the Surrey, and 6132 of
the Lancashire and Cheshire. This force was backed by eleven 16-pounder
batteries of the 1st Norfolk from Yarmouth, the 1st Sussex from
Brighton, the 1st Newcastle and the 2nd Durham from Seaham, and ten
40-pounder batteries of the 3rd and 6th Lancashire from Liverpool, the
9th Lancashire from Bolton, the 1st Cheshire from Chester, the 1st
Cinque Ports from Dover, and the 2nd Cinque Ports from St. Leonards. At
Halstead, on the left flank, there were massed about 20,470 Volunteer
infantry, these being made up of the South Wales Brigade 4182, Welsh
Border 5192, the North Midland 5225, and the South Midland 5970. The
eleven 16-pounder batteries came from the Woolwich Arsenal, Monmouth,
Shropshire, and Stafford Corps, and five 40-pounder batteries from the
Preston Corps.

To Guildford 4471 infantry in the Home Counties Brigade and 4097 in the
Western Counties were assigned, while the guns consisted of four
40-pounder batteries from the York and Leeds Corps, the 16-pounder
batteries of the Fife, Highland, and Midlothian Corps being unable, as
yet, to get south on account of the congested state of all the northern
railways.

For this same reason, too, the force at Box Hill, the remaining post in
the south line of defence, was a very weak one. To this the Volunteers
assigned were mostly Scottish.

Of the Glasgow Brigade 8000 of all ranks arrived, with 4000 from the
South of Scotland Brigade; but the Highland Brigade of 4400 men, all
enthusiastically patriotic, and the 16-pounder batteries from Ayr and
Lanark, were compelled, to their chagrin, to wait at their headquarters
for several days before the railways--every resource of which was
strained to their utmost limits--could move them forward to the seat of
war.

The five heavy batteries of the Aberdeen and North York Corps succeeded
in getting down to their place of concentration early, as likewise did
the 16-pounder battery from Galloway. Volunteers also undertook the
defences north of the metropolis, and a strong line, consisting of a
number of provincial brigades, stretched from Tilbury to Brentwood and
Epping.

The British Volunteer holds no romantic notions of "death or glory," but
is none the less prepared to do his duty, and is always ready "to do
anything, and to go anywhere." Every officer and every man of this great
force which had mounted guard north and south of the Thames was resolved
to act his part bravely, and, if necessary, lay down his life for his
country's honour.

At their posts on the Surrey Hills, ready at any moment to go into
action, and firmly determined that no invader should enter the vast
Capital of the World, they impatiently awaited the development of the
situation, eager to face and annihilate their foreign foe.

Britannia had always been justly proud of her Volunteer forces, although
their actual strength in time of invasion had never before been
demonstrated. Now, however, the test which had been applied showed that,
with an exception of rarest occurrence, every man had responded to this
hasty call to arms, and that on active service they were as fearless and
courageous as any body of Regulars ever put in the field.

Every man was alive to Britain's danger; every man knew well how
terrible would be the combat--the struggle that must result in either
victory or death.

The double-headed Eagle had set his talons in British soil!




CHAPTER XIII.

FIERCE FIGHTING IN THE CHANNEL.


In the Channel disastrous events of a most exciting character were now
rapidly occurring.

Outside Seaford Bay, Pevensey Bay, and off Brighton and the Mares at
Cuckmere Haven, the enemy's transports, having landed troops and stores,
rode at anchor, forming a line of retreat in case of reverses, while
many fast French cruisers steamed up and down, keeping a sharp lookout
for any British merchant or mail steamers which, ignorant of the
hostilities, entered the Channel.

The officers and crews of these steamers were in most cases so utterly
surprised that they fell an easy prey to the marauding vessels, many
being captured and taken to French ports without a shot being fired.
Other vessels, on endeavouring to escape, were either overhauled or sunk
by the heavy fire of pursuing cruisers. One instance was that of the
fast mail steamer _Carpathian_, belonging to the Union Steamship
Company, which, entering the Channel on a voyage from Cape Town to
Southampton, was attacked off the Eddystone by the Russian armoured
cruiser _Gerzog Edinburskij_. The panic on board was indescribable, over
a hundred steerage passengers being killed or mutilated by the shells
from the bow guns of the cruiser, and the captain himself being blown to
atoms by an explosion which occurred when a shot struck and carried away
the forward funnel. After an exciting chase, the _Carpathian_ was sunk
near Start Point, and of the five hundred passengers and crew scarcely a
single person survived.

This terrible work of destruction accomplished, the Russian cruiser
turned westward again to await further prey. As she steamed away,
however, another ship rounded the Start following at full speed in her
wake. This vessel, which was flying the British flag, was the
barbette-ship _Centurion_. Already her captain had witnessed the attack
and sinking of the _Carpathian_, but from a distance too great to enable
him to assist the defenceless liner, and he was now on his way to attack
the Tsar's cruiser. Almost immediately she was noticed by the enemy.
Half an hour later she drew within range, and soon the two ships were
engaged in a most desperate encounter. The gunners on the _Centurion_,
seeing the Russian cross flying defiantly, and knowing the frightful
havoc already wrought on land by the enemy, worked with that pluck and
indomitable energy characteristic of the Britisher. Shot after shot was
exchanged, but hissed and splashed without effect until the ships drew
nearer, and then nearly every shell struck home. The rush of flame from
the quick-firing guns of the _Centurion_ was continuous, and the firing
was much more accurate than that of her opponent, nevertheless the
latter was manipulated with remarkable skill.

The roar of the guns was deafening. Clouds of smoke rose so thickly that
the vessels could scarcely distinguish each other. But the firing was
almost continuous, until suddenly a shell struck the _Centurion_ abaft
the funnel, and for a moment stilled her guns.

This, however, was not for long, for in a few moments she recovered from
the shock, and her guns were again sending forth shells with regularity
and precision. Again a shell struck the _Centurion_, this time carrying
away one of her funnels and killing a large number of men.

The British captain, still as cool as if standing on the hearthrug of
the smoking-room of the United Service Club, took his vessel closer,
continuing the fire, heedless of the fact that the Russian shells
striking his ship were playing such fearful havoc with it. Every
preparation had been made for a desperate fight to the death, when
suddenly a shot struck the vessel, causing her to reel and shiver.

So well had the Russians directed their fire that the British vessel
could not reply. One of her 29-tonners had been blown completely off its
carriage, and lay shattered with men dead all around, while two of her
quick-firing broadside guns had been rendered useless, and she had
sustained other injuries of a very serious character, besides losing
nearly half her men.

She was silent, riding to the swell, when wild exultant shouts in
Russian went up from the enemy's ship, mingling with the heavy fire they
still kept up.

At that moment, however, even while the victorious shouts resounded, the
captain of the _Centurion_, still cool and collected, swung round his
vessel, and turning, touched one of the electric knobs at his hand. As
he did so a long silvery object shot noiselessly from the side of the
ship, and plunged with a splash into the rising waves.

Seconds seemed hours. For a whole three minutes the captain waited;
then, disappointed, he turned away with an expression of impatience. The
torpedo had missed its mark, and every moment lost might determine their
fate. With guns still silent he again adroitly manoeuvred his ship. Once
again he touched the electric knob, and again a torpedo, released from
its tube, sped rapidly through the water.

Suddenly a dull and muffled explosion from the Russian cruiser sounded.
Above the dense smoke a flame shot high, with great columns of spray, as
the guns suddenly ceased their thunder.

There was a dead stillness, broken only by the wash of the sea.

Then the smoke clearing showed the debris of the _Gerzog Edinburskij_
fast sinking beneath the restless waters. Some splinters precipitated
into the air had fallen with loud splashes in every direction, and amid
the victorious shouts of the British bluejackets the disabled ship, with
its fluttering Russian cross, slowly disappeared for ever, carrying down
every soul on board.

The torpedo, striking her amidships, had blown an enormous hole right
through her double bottom, and torn her transverse bulkheads away so
much that her watertight doors were useless for keeping her afloat, even
for a few minutes.

Partially crippled as she was, the _Centurion_ steamed slowly westward,
until at noon on the following day she fell in with a division of the
Coastguard Squadron, which, acting under the fictitious telegraphic
orders of the French spy, had been to Land's End, but which, now the
enemy had landed, had received genuine orders from the Admiralty.

Compared with the number and strength of the French and Russian vessels
mustered in the Channel, this force was so small as to appear ludicrous.
To send this weak defending division against the mighty power of the
invaders was sheer madness, and everybody on board knew it. The vessels
were weaker in every detail than those of the enemy.

At full speed the British vessels steamed on throughout that day, until
at 8 P.M., when about twenty miles south of Selsey Bill, they were
joined by forces from the Solent. These consisted of the turret-ship
_Monarch_, the turret-ram _Rupert_, the barbette-ship _Rodney_, the
belted cruiser _Aurora_, and the coast defence armour-clads _Cyclops_
and _Gorgon_, together with a number of torpedo boats. The night was
calm, but moonless, and without delay the vessels all continued the
voyage up Channel silently, with lights extinguished.

Two hours later the officers noticed that away on the horizon a light
suddenly flashed twice and then disappeared.

One of the enemy's ships had signalled the approach of the defenders!

This caused the British Admiral to alter his course slightly, and the
vessels steamed along in the direction the light had shown.

In turrets and in broadside batteries there was a deep hush of
expectation. Officers and men standing at their quarters scarcely spoke.
All felt the fight must be most desperate.

Presently, in the far distance a small patch of light in the sky showed
the direction of Brighton, and almost immediately the Admiral signalled
to the cruisers _Aurora_, _Galatea_, and _Narcissus_, and the new
battleship _Hannibal_, built under the 1894 programme, to detach
themselves with six torpedo boats, and take an easterly course, in order
to carry out instructions which he gave. These tactics caused
considerable comment.

The orders were to make straight for Eastbourne, and to suddenly attack
and destroy any of the hostile transports that were lying there, the
object being twofold--firstly, to cut off the enemy's line of retreat,
and secondly, to prevent the vessels from being used for the purpose of
landing further reinforcements.

Soon after 2 A.M. this gallant little division had, by careful
manoeuvring, and assisted by a slight mist which now hung over the sea,
rounded Beachy Head without being discovered, and had got outside
Pevensey Bay about eight miles from land. Here a number of Russian
transports and service steamers were lying, among them being the
_Samojed_ and _Olaf_, _Krasnaya Gorka_ and _Vladimir_, with two smaller
ones--the _Dnepr_ and the _Artelscik_.

Silently, and without showing any lights, a British torpedo boat sped
quickly along to where the dark outline of a ship loomed through the
mist, and, having ascertained that it was the _Olaf_, drew up quickly.

A few minutes elapsed, all being quiet. Then suddenly a bright flash was
followed by a fearful explosion, and the bottom of the Tsar's vessel
being completely ripped up by the torpedo, she commenced to settle down
immediately, before any of those on board could save themselves. The
enemy had scarcely recovered from their surprise and confusion when
three other loud explosions occurred, and in each case transport vessels
were blown up. British torpedo boats, darting hither and thither between
the Russian ships, were dealing terrible blows from which no vessel
could recover. So active were they, indeed, that within the space of
fifteen minutes six transports had been blown up, as well as the
first-class torpedo boat _Abo_. The loss of life was terrible.

Simultaneously with the first explosion, the guns of the _Aurora_,
_Galatea_, and _Narcissus_ thundered out a terrible salute. The bright
search-lights of the Russian cruisers and of the battleship _Navarin_
immediately swept the sea, and through the mist discerned the British
ships. The lights served only to show the latter the exact position of
the enemy, and again our guns belched forth shot and shell with
disastrous effect.

Quickly, however, the Russian vessels replied. Flame flashed
continuously from the turret of the _Navarin_ and the port guns of the
_Opricnik_ and the _Najezdnik_, while the search-lights were at the same
time shut off.

At first the fire was very ineffectual, but gradually as the vessels
crept closer to each other the encounter became more and more desperate.

The Russian torpedo boats _Vzryv_, _Vindava_, and _Kotlinj_ were
immediately active, and the _Narcissus_ had a very narrow escape, a
Whitehead torpedo passing right under her bows, while one British
torpedo boat, which at the same moment was endeavouring to launch its
deadly projectile at the _Navarin_, was sent to the bottom by a single
shot from the _Najezdnik_.

The combat was desperate and terrible. That the British had been already
successful in surprising and sinking a torpedo boat and six of the
hostile transports was true; nevertheless the number of Russian ships
lying there was much greater than the British Admiral had anticipated,
and, to say the least, the four vessels now found themselves in a most
critical position.

The _Navarin_ alone was one of the most powerful of the Tsar's
battleships, and, in addition to the seven cruisers and nine torpedo
boats, comprised an overwhelming force.

Yet the English warships held their own, pouring forth an incessant
fire. Each gun's crew knew they were face to face with death, but,
inspired by the coolness of their officers, they worked on calmly and
indefatigably. Many of their shots went home with frightful effect. One
shell which burst over the magazine of the _Lieut. Iljin_ ripped up her
deck and caused severe loss of life, while in the course of half an hour
one of the heavy turret guns of the _Navarin_ had been disabled, and
two more Russian torpedo boats sunk. Our torpedo boat destroyers
operating on the Channel seaboard were performing excellent work, the
_Havock_, _Shark_, _Hornet_, _Dart_, _Bruiser_, _Hasty_, _Teaser_,
_Janus_, _Surly_, and _Porcupine_ all being manoeuvred with splendid
success. Several, however, were lost while sweeping out the enemy's
torpedo boat shelters, including the _Ardent_, _Charger_, _Boxer_, and
_Rocket_.

[Illustration: SINKING OF H.M.S. "AURORA" BY A TORPEDO: "THE CRUISER
ROSE AS IF SHE HAD RIDDEN OVER A VOLCANO."]

But the British vessels were now suffering terribly, hemmed in as they
were by the enemy, with shells falling upon them every moment, and their
decks swept by the withering fire of machine guns. Suddenly, after a
shell had burst in the stern of the _Aurora_, she ceased firing and
swung round, almost colliding with the _Narcissus_. Her steam
steering-gear had, alas! been broken by the shot, and for a few moments
her officers lost control over her.

A Russian torpedo boat in shelter behind the _Navarin_, now seeing its
chance, darted out and launched its projectile.

The officers of the _Aurora_, aware of their danger, seemed utterly
powerless to avert it. It was a terrible moment. A few seconds later the
torpedo struck, the cruiser rose as if she had ridden over a volcano,
and then, as she gradually settled down, the dark sea rolled over as
gallant a crew as ever sailed beneath the White Ensign.

Immediately afterwards the _Navarin_ exchanged rapid signals with a
number of ships which were approaching with all speed from the direction
of Hastings, and the captains of the three remaining British vessels saw
that they had fallen into a trap.

The _Narcissus_ had been drawn between two fires. Both her funnels had
been shot away, two of her broadside guns were useless, and she had
sustained damage to her engines; nevertheless, her captain, with the
dogged perseverance of a British sailor, continued the desperate combat.
With the first flush of dawn the fog had lifted, but there was scarcely
sufficient wind to spread out the British ensign, which still waved with
lazy defiance.

On one side of her was the ponderous _Navarin_, from the turret of which
shells were projected with monotonous regularity, while on the other the
British cruiser was attacked vigorously by the _Najezdnik_. The
_Narcissus_, however, quickly showed the Russians what she could do
against such overwhelming odds, for presently she sent a shot from one
of her 20-ton guns right under the turret of the _Navarin_, causing a
most disastrous explosion on board that vessel, while, at the same time,
her 6-inch breechloaders pounded away at her second antagonist, and sank
a torpedo boat manoeuvring near.

Both the _Galatea_ and the _Hannibal_ were in an equally serious
predicament. The enemy's torpedo boats swarmed around them, while the
cruisers _Opricnik_, _Admiral Korniloff_, _Rynda_, and several other
vessels, kept up a hot, incessant fire, which was returned energetically
by the British vessels.

The sight was magnificent, appalling! In the spreading dawn, the great
ships manoeuvring smartly, each strove to obtain points of vantage, and
vied with each other in their awful work of destruction. The activity of
the British torpedo boats, darting here and there, showed that those who
manned them were utterly reckless of their lives. As they sped about, it
was indeed marvellous how they escaped destruction, for the Russians had
more than double the number of boats, and their speed was quite equal to
our own.

Nevertheless the British boats followed up their successes by other
brilliant deeds of daring, for one of them, with a sudden dash, took the
_Rynda_ off her guard, and sent a torpedo at her with awful result,
while a few moments later two terrific explosions sounded almost
simultaneously above the thunder of the guns, and it was then seen that
the unprotected cruiser _Asia_, and the last remaining transport the
_Krasnaya Gorka_, were both sinking.

It was a ghastly spectacle.

Hoarse despairing shrieks went up from hundreds of Russian sailors who
fought and struggled for life in the dark rolling waters, and three
British torpedo boats humanely rescued a great number of them. Many,
however, sank immediately with their vessels, while some strong swimmers
struck out for the distant shore. Yet, without exception, all these
succumbed to exhaustion ere they could reach the land, and the long
waves closed over them as they threw up their arms and sank into the
deep.

During the first few minutes following this sudden disaster to the enemy
the firing ceased, and the _Navarin_ ran up signals. This action
attracted the attention of the officers of the British vessels to the
approaching ships, and to their amazement and dismay they discovered
that they were a squadron of the enemy who had returned unexpectedly
from the direction of Dover.

The British ships, in their half-crippled condition, could not possibly
withstand such an onslaught as they knew was about to be made upon them,
for the enemy's reinforcements consisted of the steel barbette-ships
_Gangut_, _Alexander II._, and _Nicolai I._, of the Baltic Fleet, the
great turret-ship _Petr Veliky_, the _Rurik_, a very powerful
central-battery belted cruiser of over ten thousand tons, two new
cruisers of the same type that had been recently completed, the _Enara_
and _Ischma_, with three other cruisers and a large flotilla of torpedo
boats. Accompanying them were the French 10,000-ton armoured
barbette-ship _Magenta_, the central-battery ship _Richelieu_, the
armoured turret-ship _Tonnerre_, and the _Hoche_, one of the finest
vessels of our Gallic neighbour's Navy, as well as the torpedo cruisers
_Hirondelle_ and _Fleurus_, and a number of swift torpedo boats and
"catchers."

The captains of the British vessels saw that in the face of such a force
defeat was a foregone conclusion; therefore they could do nothing but
retreat hastily towards Newhaven, in the hope of finding the division of
the British Coastguard Squadron which had gone there for the same
purpose as they had rounded Beachy Head, namely, to destroy the enemy's
transports.

Without delay the three vessels swung round with all speed and were
quickly headed down Channel, while the remaining attendant torpedo
boats, noticing this sudden retreat, also darted away. This manoeuvre
did not, of course, proceed unchecked, the enemy being determined they
should not escape. Signals were immediately made by the _Alexander II._,
the flagship, and the _Petr Veliky_ and _Enara_, being within range,
blazed forth a storm of shell upon the fugitives. The shots, however,
fell wide, and ricochetted over the water, sending up huge columns of
spray; whereupon the _Narcissus_ and _Galatea_ replied steadily with
their 6-inch guns, while the heavy guns of the _Hannibal_ were also
quickly brought into play.

In a few minutes the _Magenta_ and _Tonnerre_ with the _Alger_,
_Cecille_, and _Sfax_, started in pursuit, and an intensely exciting
chase commenced. The engines of the British vessels were run at the
highest possible pressure, but the French ships proved several knots
swifter. As they steamed at full speed around Beachy Head towards
Seaford Bay the enemy gradually overhauled them. The brisk fire which
was being kept up soon began to tell, for all three retreating ships had
lost many men, and the scenes of bloodshed on board were frightful.

Eagerly the officers swept the horizon with their glasses to discover
signs of friendly aid, but none hove in sight. All three ships were
weak, their guns disabled, with whole guns' crews lying dead around, and
many of the officers had fallen. In strength, in speed, in armaments--in
fact, in everything--they were inferior to their opponents, and they saw
it was a question of sheer force, not one of courage.

They would either be compelled to surrender to the Tricolor, or
deliberately seek the grave. With such a force bearing down upon them,
escape seemed absolutely impossible.




CHAPTER XIV.

BATTLE OFF BEACHY HEAD.


The sun at last broke forth brilliantly, betokoning another blazing day.

Having regard to the fact that both the Channel Fleet and the reserve
had been sent on futile errands by our enemy's secret agent, and the
superior forces against which the British had all along had to fight,
they had most assuredly shown what tact and courage could effect.

Opposite the Belle Tout lighthouse a disaster occurred to the
_Narcissus_. During the fight one of her engines had been injured, and
this being now strained to its utmost limit had suddenly broken down
altogether, with the result that the vessel gradually slackened speed,
and the _Sfax_ and _Alger_ bore down quickly upon her, pouring into her
a heavy fire from their 5-tonners. The reply was a weak one from her
quick-firing guns, her heavy arms having nearly all been disabled.

Onward steamed the _Galatea_ and _Hannibal_, keeping up a running fire
with the four vessels pursuing them, while the two cruisers engaging the
_Narcissus_ continued their strenuous endeavours to silence her guns.
The British sailors, however, still undaunted, quickly showed their
opponents that all the arms workable would be brought into play by
directing a most vigorous fire upon their pursuers, blowing away one of
the funnels of the _Alger_, and disabling one of her large bow guns.

Just then, however, while the _Narcissus_ was discharging a broadside, a
torpedo boat crept under her stern and sent forth its submerged
projectile. For a moment there was a hush of expectation, then a dull
explosion sounded as the cruiser, apparently rent in twain, plunged
stern foremost into the sea, and with her ensign still flying gradually
disappeared without a soul on board being able to save himself.

Meanwhile the _Galatea_ and _Hannibal_, with their torpedo boats, were
sustaining serious injuries from the heavy bow fire, and there seemed
every possibility that they too would share the same terrible fate as
the _Narcissus_, when suddenly one of the officers of the _Galatea_
discovered three vessels approaching. The "demand" was immediately
hoisted, and responded to by both vessels running up private signals.
With an expression of satisfaction he directed the attention of the
captain to the fact, for the flags of the first-named vessel showed her
to be the British turret-ship _Monarch_, and those of the second the
great barbette-ship _Rodney_, while a moment later it was discerned that
the third vessel was the _Gorgon_.

Even as they looked, other masts appeared upon the horizon, and then
they knew relief was at hand. Both vessels ran up signals, while the
men, encouraged by the knowledge that some powerful British ironclads
were bearing down to their aid in indented line ahead, worked with
increased vigour to keep the enemy at bay.

It was a fierce, sanguinary fight. Fire vomited from all the vessels'
battered works, and the scuppers ran with blood. The French vessels,
having apparently also noticed the relief approaching, did not seem
inclined to fight, but were nevertheless compelled, and not for a single
instant did the firing from the attacked vessels cease. Their guns
showed constant bursts of flame.

Soon, however, the _Rodney_ drew within range. A puff of white smoke
from her barbette, and the _Cecille_ received a taste of her
quick-firing guns, the shots from which struck her amidships, killing a
large number of her men, and tearing up her deck. This was followed by
deafening discharges from the four 25-ton guns of the _Monarch_, while
the _Gorgon_ and a number of other vessels as they approached all took
part in the conflict, the engagement quickly becoming general. With
great precision the British directed their fire, and the French vessels
soon prepared to beat a retreat, when, without warning, a frightful
explosion occurred on board the _Hirondelle_, and wreckage mingled with
human limbs shot into the air amid a great sheet of flame.

The magazine had exploded! The scene on board the doomed vessel, even as
witnessed from the British ships, was awful. Terrified men left their
guns, and, rushing hither and thither, sought means of escape. But the
boats had already been smashed by shots from the British cruisers, and
all knew that death was inevitable.

The burning ship slowly foundered beneath them, and as they rushed about
in despair they fell back into the roaring flames. A British torpedo
boat rescued about a dozen; but presently, with a heavy list, the
warship suddenly swung round, and, bow first, disappeared into the green
sunlit sea, leaving only a few poor wretches, who, after struggling
vainly on the surface for a few moments, also went down to the unknown.

The carnage was frightful. Hundreds of men were being launched into
eternity, while upon the horizon both east and west dozens of ships of
both invaders and defenders were rapidly approaching, and all would, ere
long, try conclusions.

Before half an hour had passed, a fierce battle, as sanguinary as any in
the world's history, had commenced. The cruisers, acting as satellites
to the battleships forming the two opposing fighting lines, had quickly
commenced a series of fierce skirmishes and duels, all the most
destructive engines of modern warfare being brought into play.

The division of our Channel Fleet that had at last returned consisted of
the powerful battleship _Royal Sovereign_, flying the Admiral's flag;
the barbette-ships _Anson_, _Howe_, _Camperdown_, and _Benbow_; the
turret-ships _Thunderer_ and _Conqueror_; the cruisers _Mersey_,
_Terpsichore_, _Melampus_, _Tribune_, _Latona_, _Immortalite_, and
_Barham_; with the torpedo gunboats _Spanker_ and _Speedwell_, and
nineteen torpedo boats.

The forces of the invaders were more than double that of the British,
for, in addition to the vessels already enumerated, the reinforcements
consisted of the French battleships _Amiral Baudin_, _Formidable_,
_Amiral Duperre_, _Brennus_, _Trehouart_, _Jemappes_, _Terrible_,
_Requin_, _Indomptable_, _Caiman_, _Courbet_, _Devastation_,
_Redoubtable_, and _Furieux_, together with nine cruisers, and
thirty-eight _torpilleurs de haute mer_.

From the very commencement the fighting was at close quarters, and the
storm of shot and shell caused death on every hand. With such an
overwhelming force at his disposal, Admiral Maigret, the French
commander, had been enabled to take up a position which boded ill for
the defenders, nevertheless the British Admiral on board the _Royal
Sovereign_ was determined to exert every effort to repulse the enemy.

In the thick of the fight the great flagship steamed along, her
compartments closed, her stokeholds screwed down, her four 67-ton guns
hurling great shots from her barbettes, and her smaller arms pouring out
a continuous deadly fire upon the French ship _Indomptable_ on the one
side, and the great Russian armoured cruiser _Nicolai I._ on the other.
Upon the latter the British vessel's shells played with a terribly
devastating effect, bringing down the large forward mast and the machine
guns in her fighting tops, and then, while the crew worked to get the
wreckage clear, the Maxim, Nordenfelt, and Hotchkiss guns of the _Royal
Sovereign_ suddenly rattled out, sweeping with their metal hail her
opponent's deck, and mowing down those who were cutting adrift the
fallen rigging. A moment later a shell struck one of the pair of guns in
the _Nicolai's_ turret, rendering it useless, and then the captain of
the _Royal Sovereign_, who had been standing in the conning-tower calmly
awaiting his chance, touched three electric knobs in rapid succession.
The engines throbbed, the great ship moved along at increasing speed
through dense clouds of stifling smoke, and as she did so the captain
shouted an order which had the effect of suddenly turning the vessel,
and while her great barbette guns roared, the ram of the British vessel
crashed into the broadside of the Tsar's ship with a terrific impact
which caused her to shiver from stem to stern.

[Illustration:
_Nicolai I._    _Royal Sovereign._
BATTLE OFF BEACHY HEAD: H.M.S. "ROYAL SOVEREIGN" RAMMING THE
"NICOLAI I."]

Then, as the big guns in her rear barbette thundered out upon the
_Indomptable_, whose engines had broken down, she drew gradually back
from the terrible breach her ram had made under the water-line of her
opponent, and the latter at once commenced to sink. The force of the
impact had been so great that the Russian's hull was absolutely broken
in two, and as the iron stretched and rent like paper, she heaved slowly
over, "turning turtle," and carrying down with her over three hundred
officers and men.

The British captain now turned his attention to the French ship, which
had been joined in the attack by the _Brennus_, the fire from whose
58-ton guns at close quarters played great havoc with the British
flagship's superstructure. A second later, however, the captain of the
_Royal Sovereign_ caught the _Indomptable_ in an unguarded moment, and,
springing towards one of the electric knobs before him, pressed it. This
had the effect of ejecting a torpedo from one of the bow tubes, and so
well directed was it that a few seconds later there was a deafening
report, as part of the stern portion of the French ship was blown away,
raising great columns of spray.

The situation was awful, and the loss of life everywhere enormous.
Dense, blinding smoke, and the choking fumes of melinite, obscured the
sun, and in the darkness thus caused the flames from the guns shed a
lurid light upon decks strewn with dead and dying. The cruisers and
scouts by which our battleships were surrounded cut off many of the
French torpedo boats, but a large number got right in among the fleet,
and some terrible disasters were thus caused. Once inside the circle of
British cruisers, all fire directed at the boats was as dangerous to our
own ships as to the enemy's boats.

The superiority of the French torpedo boats was, alas! keenly felt by
the British, for in the course of the first hour five of our
cruisers--the _Terpsichore_, _Galatea_, _Melampus_, _Tribune_, _Mersey_,
the turret-ship _Conqueror_, and the battleships _Hannibal_ and
_Rodney_, had been blown up. As compared with these losses, those of the
enemy were at this stage by no means small. The French had lost two
cruisers and four torpedo boats, and the Russians one battleship, three
cruisers, and six torpedo boats.

The British, with all these fearful odds against them, still continued a
galling fire. The _Camperdown_, _Anson_, and _Benbow_, steaming together
in line, belched a storm of shell from their barbettes, which caused
wholesale destruction among the crowd of ships engaging them. Yet the
withering fire of the enemy was telling terribly upon the comparatively
small force of the defenders. Upon all three battleships the casualties
were frightful, and on board each one or more of the heavy guns had been
disabled. Suddenly a shot, penetrating a weak point in the armour of the
_Anson_, entered her engine-room, disabling a portion of her machinery,
while a moment later a shell from the _Amiral Duperre_ fell close to her
broadside torpedo discharge, and a fragment of the shell coming into
contact with the striker of a torpedo, just as it was about to leave its
tube, caused a terrific and disastrous explosion between the decks. The
effect was horrifying. The torpedo contained over 70 lb. of gun-cotton,
therefore the devastating nature of the explosion may be readily
imagined. Over a hundred men were blown to atoms, and the whole six of
the broadside guns were more or less disabled.

A second later, however, a shell from the _Benbow_ struck the _Amiral
Duperre_, carrying away the greater portion of her conning-tower, and
killing her captain instantly, while almost at the same moment a torpedo
from one of the British boats struck her bows with a frightful
detonation, blowing an enormous hole in them. The catastrophe was
complete. The crew of the doomed ship, panic-stricken, left their guns
and commenced to launch the only two boats that remained uninjured; but
ere this could be accomplished, the _Trehouart_, which suddenly went
astern, apparently to avoid a torpedo, crashed into her, with the
result that she heeled right over and quickly disappeared.

The _Camperdown_, fighting fiercely with the _Requin_, the _Terrible_,
and the _Courbet_, was suffering terrible damage from bow to stern;
nevertheless her guns kept up an incessant torrent of shot, until
suddenly, just after one of her shells had struck right under the turret
of the _Terrible_, there was a deafening report, the air was filled with
dense smoke, and the French ship, with her engines disabled, commenced
to fill and sink.

A portion of the shell had penetrated to her magazine, and she had blown
up, nearly half her crew being killed by the terrific force of the
explosion. Many of the remaining men, however, scrambled on board the
_Caiman_, which by some means had come into slight collision with her;
but scarcely had the last terrified man left the sinking vessel, when
the _Camperdown's_ powerful ram entered the _Caiman's_ bows, breaking
her hull, and she also foundered, carrying down with her not only her
own crew, but also the survivors of the _Terrible_.

This success was witnessed with satisfaction by the British Admiral, who
nevertheless saw how seriously weakened was his force, and how critical
was the position of his few remaining ships. Yet he remained quite cool,
for the heavy guns of the steel monster in whose conning-tower he stood
continued thundering forth their projectiles, and the White Ensign still
loomed defiantly through the dense black smoke, fluttering in the
freshening breeze that was now springing up.

Although a number of the enemy's vessels had been sunk, he knew the
issue must be fatal to his force, for they were now surrounded by a
number of ships so vastly superior to them in armament and speed, that
to die fighting was their only course.

Though the cockpits were full, true British indomitable courage was
showing itself everywhere on board our ships. Officers by words of
encouragement incited their men to splendid heroic deeds, and guns'
crews, with dark determined faces, seeing only death ahead, resolved to
fight and struggle to the last for the honour of the Union Jack, which
should never be surmounted by the Tricolor.

A moment later, the captain, standing with the Admiral, who had just
entered the conning-tower of the _Royal Sovereign_, suddenly uttered a
cry of dismay, and with transfixed, horrified gaze pointed with his
finger to the sea.

Breathlessly the Admiral looked in the direction indicated.

Though one of the bravest men in the Navy, and on his breast he wore the
Victoria Cross, his eyes fell upon a sight that appalled him.

It was a critical moment.

A small French vessel, the unarmoured cruiser _Faucon_, had crept up
unnoticed. The attention of the British officers had been, until that
moment, concentrated upon the three powerful battleships, the _Requin_,
the _Devastation_, and the _Jemappes_, which kept up their hot fire upon
the flagship, causing terrible destruction. Now, however, the British
Admiral saw himself surrounded by the enemy, and the sight which caused
his heart to beat quickly was a distinct line of bubbles upon the water,
advancing with terrific speed, showing that a torpedo had been ejected
from the _Faucon_ directly at his ship!

In the conning-tower all knew their danger, but not a man spoke. Both
the Admiral and the captain at the same instant saw the death-dealing
projectile advancing, and both retained their coolness and presence of
mind. The captain, shouting an order, sprang back and touched one of the
electric signals, which was instantly responded to.

It was the work of a second. The great engines roared and throbbed, and
the huge vessel, propelled backwards by its 13,000 horse-power, swung
steadily round just as the torpedo glanced off her bow obliquely. The
crew of the _Royal Sovereign_ had never been nearer death than at that
instant. Had the ironclad not halted in her course, the striker of the
torpedo would have come square upon her bows, and one of the finest
vessels of the British Navy would have probably gone to the bottom.

The _Faucon_ was not given an opportunity to make a second attempt. The
captain of the _Anson_ had witnessed how narrowly the British flagship
had escaped, and immediately turned his great guns upon the little
vessel, with the result that her quick-firing guns were quickly rendered
useless, her hull was torn up like paper, and she slowly sank without
offering resistance.

Shots came from the frowning barbettes of the _Camperdown_, _Benbow_,
and the turrets of the _Monarch_ rapidly, the damage and loss of life
suffered by the enemy now being enormous. The three French battleships
engaging the _Royal Sovereign_ at close quarters received terrible
punishment. One of the 75-ton guns of the _Requin_ had been rendered
useless, her deck had been torn up, and her bulwarks had been carried
away, together with her funnel and forward mast. The rear barbette gun
of the _Jemappes_ had been thrown off its mounting, and a shell striking
the port side battery, had burst against the forward bulkhead, and
wrought horrible destruction among the guns' crews.

The three powerful French vessels pouring their fire upon the British
flagship, and finding themselves being raked by the heavy fire of their
adversary, signalled the _Tonnerre_ and _Furieux_ to assist them. Both
vessels drew nearer, and soon afterwards commenced pounding at the
_Royal Sovereign_.

The _Anson_, however, noticed the dangerous position of the British
flagship, and, having manoeuvred adroitly, succeeded in getting under
way, and with her great forward guns thundering, she crashed her ram
into the _Furieux_, and sank her, while almost at the same moment a
torpedo, discharged from one of the British boats, struck the _Tonnerre_
right amidships, dealing her a blow from which she could never recover.
Five minutes later, the _Gangut_, fighting desperately at close quarters
with the _Camperdown_, had part of her armoured casemate blown away, and
the British battleship followed up this success by directing a torpedo
at her in such a manner that, although she drew back quickly to avoid
it, she nevertheless received it right under her stern. Some ammunition
on board that vessel also exploded, and the effect was frightful, for
fragments of wood, iron, and human bodies were precipitated in all
directions.

The loss of life, although heavy on the British side, was nevertheless
far greater on board the enemy's ships. The continuity and precision of
the British fire wrought awful destruction. Between the decks of many of
the French and Russian ships the carnage was frightful. Among wrecked
guns and mountings lay headless and armless bodies; human limbs
shattered by shells were strewn in all directions upon decks slippery
with blood. The shrieks of the dying were drowned by the roar and crash
of the guns, the deafening explosion of shells, and the rending of iron
and steel as the projectiles pierced armourplates, destroying everything
with which they came in contact.

The noon had passed, and as the day wore on other catastrophes occurred
involving further loss of life. One of these was the accidental ramming
of the _Sfax_ by the French battleship _Redoubtable_, which managed,
however, to save the greater portion of the crew, although her engines
broke down.

During the afternoon the fire from the British ships seemed to increase
rather than diminish, notwithstanding each vessel flying the White
Ensign fought more than one of the enemy's ships, and in doing so
constantly received shots that spread death and destruction between the
decks. Still, amid the blinding smoke, the din of battle, and the
constant roaring of the guns, British bluejackets with smoke-begrimed
faces worked enthusiastically for the defence of Old England. Many
heroic deeds were performed that memorable afternoon, and many a gallant
hero was sent to an untimely grave.

On board the _Royal Sovereign_ the destruction was frightful. By four
o'clock many of the guns had been disabled, half the crew had perished,
and the decks ran with the life-blood of Britain's gallant defenders.
The captain had been struck upon the forehead by a flying fragment of
shell, causing a fearful wound; yet, with his head enveloped in a
hastily improvised bandage, he stuck to his post. He was engaging the
_Redoubtable_ and getting the worst of it, when suddenly, having
manoeuvred once or twice, he turned to his lieutenant, saying, "Lay
guns, ahead full speed, and prepare to ram." The officer addressed
transmitted the order, and a few moments later, as her guns thundered
forth, the bows of the _Royal Sovereign_ entered the broadside of the
French ship with a loud crash, ripping her almost in half.

Backing again quickly as the _Redoubtable_ sank, she suddenly received a
shock which made her reel and shiver. A shell from the Russian flagship
had struck under her stern barbette, but, failing to penetrate the
armour, glanced off into the sea.

Fiercer and more fierce became the fight. A well-directed shot from one
of the 67-ton guns on the _Anson's_ rear barbette struck the
conning-tower of the _Magenta_, blowing it away, killing the captain and
those who were directing the vessel.

The sun was sinking, but the battle still raged with unabated fury. Each
side struggled desperately for the mastery. The British, fighting nobly
against what had all along been overwhelming odds, had succeeded in
sinking some of the enemy's finest ships, and inflicting terrible loss
upon the crews of the others; yet the British Admiral, on viewing the
situation, was compelled to admit that he was outnumbered, and that a
continuance of the struggle would inevitably result in the loss of other
of his ships. There still remained three of the enemy's vessels to each
one of the British. His ships were all more or less crippled, therefore
a successful stand against the still overwhelming force would be sheer
madness. He was not the sort of man to show the white feather;
nevertheless a retreat upon Portsmouth had now become a matter of
policy, and the _Royal Sovereign_ a few minutes later ran up signals
intimating to the other vessels her intention.

As the British Squadron moved away down Channel the hoarse exultant
shouts of the enemy filled the air. But the fighting became even more
desperate, and for over an hour there was a most exciting chase. The
running fire did little harm to the retreating ships, but their stern
guns played terrible havoc with the French and Russian torpedo boats,
which were picked off one after another with remarkable rapidity.

Off Littlehampton one of the Russian ships ran up signals, and
immediately the enemy's ships slackened. Apparently they had no desire
to follow further west, for after a few parting shots they turned and
stood away up Channel again, while the surviving ships of the British
Squadron steamed onward in the blood-red track of the dying day.

At their head was the _Royal Sovereign_, battered, and bearing marks of
the deadly strife; but bright against the clear, calm evening sky, the
British flag, half of which had been shot away, still fluttered out in
the cool breeze of sunset.

The British Lion had shown his teeth. Alas, that our Navy should have
been so weak! Several of the ships had had their engines severely
damaged or broken, but our margin of additional strength was so small
that we had no vessels wherewith to replace those compelled to return to
port.

The struggle in this, the first naval battle in the defence of our
Empire, had been desperate, and the loss of life appalling.

The First Act of the most sanguinary drama of modern nations had closed.

What would be its _denouement_?




_BOOK II_

_THE STRUGGLE_




CHAPTER XV.

THE DOOM OF HULL.


In Hull forty-eight long weary hours of anxious suspense and breathless
excitement had passed. The night was dark, the sky overcast, and there
was in the air that oppressive sultry stillness precursory of a storm.

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.

Suddenly, just before eleven o'clock, the thousands anxiously peering
over the wide, dark waters saw away on the bank, three miles distant,
two beams of white light, which slowly swept both reaches of the river.

They were the search-lights of the battery at Paull. Scarcely had the
bright streaks shone out and disappeared when they were followed by a
terrific cannonade from the forts, and then, for the first time, those
standing on the Victoria Pier could discern the enemy's ships. How many
there were it was impossible at that moment to tell, but instantly their
guns flashed and thundered at the forts in reply. Far away seaward could
also be heard low booming. The enemy's vessels were creeping carefully
up the Humber, being compelled to take constant soundings on account of
the removal of the buoys, and evidently guided by foreign pilots who had
for years been permitted to take vessels up and down the river.

Moments dragged on like hours, each bringing the town of Hull nearer its
fate. The people knew it, but were powerless. They stood awaiting the
unknown.

The Russian force, besides the three vessels already mentioned, included
the armoured cruiser _Dimitri Donskoi_, the central-battery ship _Kniaz
Pojarski_, the cruiser _Pamyat Merkuriya_, two of the new armoured
cruisers, _Mezen_ and _Syzran_, of the _Rurik_ type, the corvette
_Razboynik_, the torpedo gunboats _Griden_ and _Gaidamak_, and the
armoured gunboat _Gremyastchy_, with several torpedo boats.

The manner in which they had manoeuvred to pass Spurn Point and ascend
the river was remarkable, and astounded the officers in the forts at
Paull. They, however, were not aware that each captain of those vessels
possessed a copy of the British secret code and other important
information compiled from the documents filched from the body of the
Admiralty messenger by the Count von Beilstein at the Mariners' Rest at
Deal!

The possession of this secret knowledge, which was, of course, unknown
to our Admiralty, enabled the captains of the Russian vessels to evade
sunken hulks and other obstructions, and take some of their ships slowly
up the river, bearing well on the Lincolnshire coast, so as to keep,
until the last moment, out of the range of the search-lights at Paull.
Then, on the first attack from the batteries, they suddenly replied
with such a hail of shell, that from the first moment it was clear that
the strength of the fort with its obsolete guns was totally inadequate.

The roar of the cannonade was incessant. Amid the deafening explosions
the townspeople of Hull rushed up and down the streets screaming and
terrified. Suddenly a great shell fell with a dull thud in Citadel
Street, close to a crowd of excited women, and exploding a second later,
blew a number of them to atoms, and wrecked the fronts of several
houses.

This served to increase the panic. The people were on the verge of
madness with fright and despair. Thousands seized their money and
jewellery and fled away upon the roads leading to the country. Others
hid away their valuables, and preferred to remain; the crisis had come,
and as Britons they determined to face it.

While the Russian ships, lying broadside-on in positions carefully
selected to avoid the electro-contact mines, poured their terrible fire
upon the land battery at Paull, their torpedo boats darted hither and
thither with extraordinary rapidity. Several were sunk by shots from the
battery, but four piquet boats in the darkness at last managed to creep
up, and after searching, seized the cable connecting the mines with the
Submarine Mining Station at Paull.

This was discovered just at the critical moment by means of one of the
British search-lights, and upon the hostile boats a frightful cascade of
projectiles was poured by the quick-firing guns of the battery.

But it was, alas, too late! The cable had been cut. To the whole of the
wires a small electric battery had in a moment been attached, and as the
guns of the fort crashed out there were a series of dull explosions
under the bed of the river across the channel from Foul Holme Sand to
Killingholme Haven, and from Paull Coastguard Station to the Skitter.

The dark water rose here and there. The whole of the mines had been
simultaneously fired!

Cheers rang out from the Russian vessels, sounding above the heavy
cannonade. The destruction of this most important portion of the
defences of the Humber had been accomplished by the boats just at the
very instant when they were shattered by British shells, and ere the
waters grew calm again the last vestige of the boats had disappeared.
The officers at Paull worked on with undaunted courage, striving by
every means in their power to combat with the superior forces. In a
measure, too, they were successful, for such havoc did the shells play
with the gunboat _Gremyastchy_ that she slowly foundered, and her crew
were compelled to abandon her. A portion of the men were rescued by the
_Syzran_, but two boatloads were precipitated into the water, and nearly
all were drowned. Two of the big guns of the _Dimitri Donskoi_ were
disabled, and the loss of life on several of the ships was considerable.
Nevertheless the firing was still incessant. Time after time the 9-ton
guns of the _Kniaz Pojarski_ and the four 131/2-tonners of the _Mezen_
threw their terrible missiles upon the defences at Paull with frightful
effect, until at length, after a most desperate, stubborn resistance on
the part of the British commander of the battery, and after half the
defending force had been killed, the guns suddenly ceased.

Both land and sea defences had been broken down! The Russians were now
free to advance upon Hull!

Not a moment was lost. Ten minutes after the guns of Paull had been
silenced, the enemy's ships, moving very cautiously forward, opened a
withering fire upon the town.

The horrors of that bombardment were frightful. At the moment of the
first shots, fired almost simultaneously from the two big guns of the
_Syzran_, the panic became indescribable. Both shells burst with loud
detonations and frightfully devastating effect. The first, striking one
of the domes of the Dock Office, carried it bodily away, at the same
time killing several persons; while the other, crashing upon the
Exchange, unroofed it, and blew away the colossal statue of Britannia
which surmounted the parapet on the corner. Surely this was an omen of
impending disaster!

Ere the horrified inhabitants could again draw breath, the air was rent
by a terrific crash, as simultaneously flame rushed from the guns of
the _Kniaz Pojarski_, the _Pamyat Merkuriya_, and the _Mezen_, and great
shells were hurled into the town in every direction. The place trembled
and shook as if struck by an earthquake, and everywhere walls fell and
buildings collapsed.

[Illustration: MAP OF HULL AND THE HUMBER.]

Long bright beams of the search-lights swept the town and neighbouring
country, lighting up the turbulent streets like day, and as the crowds
rushed headlong from the river, shot and shell struck in their midst,
killing hundreds of starving toilers and unoffending men, women, and
children.

Lying off Salt End, the _Cizoi Veliky_, which had now come up the river
in company with two torpedo boats, poured from her barbette a heavy fire
upon the Alexandra Dock and Earle's shipbuilding yard, while the other
vessels, approaching nearer, wrought terrible destruction with every
shot in various other parts of the town. In the course of a quarter of
an hour many streets were impassable, owing to the fallen buildings, and
in dozens of places the explosion of the melinite shells had set on fire
the ruined houses.

Missiles hurled from such close quarters by such heavy guns wrought the
most fearful havoc. Naturally, the Russian gunners, discovering the most
prominent buildings with their search-lights, aimed at them and
destroyed many of the public edifices.

Among the first prominent structures to topple and fall was the
Wilberforce Monument, and then, in rapid succession, shots carried away
another dome of the Dock Office, and the great square towers of St.
John's and Holy Trinity Churches. The gaudily gilded equestrian statue
of King William III. was flung from its pedestal and smashed by a heavy
shot, which entered a shop opposite, completely wrecking it; and two
shells, striking the handsome offices of the Hull Banking Company at the
corner of Silver Street, reduced the building to a heap of ruins. Deadly
shells fell in quick succession in Paragon Street, and at the
North-Eastern Railway Station, where the lines and platforms were torn
up, and the Station Hotel, being set on fire, was soon burning fiercely,
for the flames spread unchecked here, as in every other quarter. Church
spires fell crashing into neighbouring houses, whole rows of shops were
demolished in Whitefriargate, High Street, and Saville Street, and roads
were everywhere torn up by the enemy's exploding missiles.

Not for a moment was there a pause in this awful work of destruction;
not for a moment was the frightful massacre of the inhabitants
suspended. The enemy's sole object was apparently to weaken the northern
defences of London by drawing back the Volunteer battalions to the
north. There was no reason to bombard after the fort had been silenced,
yet they had decided to destroy the town and cause the most widespread
desolation possible.

Flame flashed from the muzzles of those great desolating guns so quickly
as to appear like one brilliant, incessant light. Shells from the _Cizoi
Veliky_ fell into the warehouses around the Alexandra Dock, and these,
with the fine new grain warehouses on each side of the river Hull, were
blazing furiously with a terrible roar. High into the air great tongues
of flame leaped, their volume increased by the crowd of ships in the
dock also igniting in rapid succession, shedding a lurid glare over the
terrible scene, and lighting up the red, angry sky. The long range of
warehouses, filled with inflammable goods, at the edge of the Albert and
William Wright Docks, were on fire, while the warehouses of the Railway
Dock, together with a large number of Messrs. Thomas Wilson's fine
steamers, were also in flames. Such a hold had the flames obtained that
no power could arrest them, and as the glare increased it was seen by
those flying for their lives that the whole of the port was now
involved.

The great petroleum stores of the Anglo-American Company, struck by a
shell, exploded a few moments later with a most terrific and frightful
detonation which shook the town. For a moment it seemed as if both town
and river were enveloped in one great sheet of flame, then, as blazing
oil ran down the gutters on every side, fierce fires showed, and whole
streets were alight from end to end.

Hundreds of persons perished in the flames, hundreds were shot down by
the fragments of flying missiles, and hundreds more were buried under
falling ruins. Everywhere the roar of flames mingled with the shrieks of
the dying. Shells striking the Royal Infirmary burst in the wards,
killing many patients in their beds, and setting fire to the building,
while others, crashing through the roof of the Theatre Royal, carried
away one of the walls and caused the place to ignite. One shot from the
13-ton gun of the _Syzran_ tore its way into the nave of Holy Trinity
Church, and, exploding, blew out the three beautiful windows and wrecked
the interior, while another from the same gun demolished one of the
corner buildings of the new Market Hall. The handsome tower of the Town
Hall, struck by a shell just under the dial, came down with a frightful
crash, completely blocking Lowgate with its debris, and almost at the
same instant a shot came through the dome of the Council Chamber,
totally destroying the apartment.

The Mariners' Hospital and Trinity House suffered terribly, many of the
inmates of the former being blown to pieces. One shot completely
demolished the Savings Bank at the corner of George Street, and a shell
exploding under the portico of the Great Thornton Street Chapel blew out
the whole of its dark facade. Another, striking the extensive premises
of a firm of lead merchants at the corner of Brook and Paragon Streets,
swept away the range of buildings like grass before the scythe.

In the Queen's, Humber, Victoria, and Prince's Docks the congested crowd
of idle merchant ships were enveloped in flames that wrapped themselves
about the rigging, and, crackling, leaped skyward. The Orphanage at
Spring Bank, the Artillery Barracks, and Wilberforce House were all
burning; in fact, in the course of the two hours during which the
bombardment lasted hardly a building of note escaped.

The houses of the wealthy residents far away up Spring Bank, Anlaby and
Beverley Roads, and around Pearson's Park, had been shattered and
demolished; the shops in Saville Street had without exception been
destroyed, and both the Cannon Street and Pier Stations had been
completely wrecked and unroofed.

Soon after two o'clock in the morning, when the Russian war vessels
ceased their thunder, the whole town was as one huge furnace, the
intense heat and suffocating smoke from which caused the Russian Admiral
to move his vessels towards the sea as quickly as the necessary
soundings allowed.

The glare lit the sky for many miles around. The immense area of great
burning buildings presented a magnificent, appalling spectacle.

It was a terrible national disaster--a frightful holocaust, in which
thousands of lives, with property worth millions, had been wantonly
destroyed by a ruthless enemy which Britain's defective and obsolete
defences were too weak to keep at bay--a devastating catastrophe, swift,
complete, awful.




CHAPTER XVI.

TERROR ON THE TYNE.


England was thrilled, dismayed, petrified. The wholesale massacre at
Eastbourne and the terrible details of the bombardment of Hull had
spread increased horror everywhere throughout the land.

Terror reigned on the Tyneside. Hospitals, asylums, and public
institutions, crowded with affrighted inmates, had no food to
distribute. In Newcastle, in Shields, in Jarrow, and in Gateshead the
poor were idle and hungry, while the wealthy were feverishly
apprehensive. A Sabbath quiet had fallen on the great silent highway of
the Tyne. In those blazing days and breathless nights there was an
unbroken stillness that portended dire disaster.

In the enormous crowded districts on each side of the river the gaunt
spectre Starvation stalked through the cheerless homes of once
industrious toilers, and the inmates pined and died. So terrible was the
distress already, that domestic pets were being killed and eaten, dogs
and cats being no uncommon dish, the very offal thrown aside being
greedily devoured by those slowly succumbing to a horrible death. Awful
scenes of suffering and blank despair were being witnessed on every
side.

Three days after the enemy had ascended the Humber and dealt such a
decisive blow at Hull, the port of South Shields was suddenly alarmed by
information telegraphed from the Coastguard on Harton Down Hill, about
a mile south of the town, to the effect that they had sighted a number
of French and Russian ships.

Panic at once ensued. The broad market-place was filled by a
terror-stricken crowd of townspeople, while the seafaring population
surged down King Street and Ocean Road, across the park to the long
South Pier at the entrance to the Tyne, eager to reassure themselves
that the enemy had no designs upon their town.

In the dull red afterglow that lit up the broad bay of golden sand
between Trow Point and the pier, a huge vessel suddenly loomed dark upon
the sky line, and, as she approached, those watching anxiously through
glasses made her out as the great steel turret-ship _Lazare Carnot_,
flying the French Tricolor. Immediately following her came a number of
cruisers, gunboats, and torpedo boats. They included the _Dimitri
Donskoi_, the _Kniaz Pojarski_, the _Pamyat Merkuriya_, the _Mezen_, the
_Syzran_, the _Griden_, and the _Gaidamak_, all of which had taken part
in the attack on Hull, while they had now been joined by the French
battleships _Massena_ and _Neptune_, the small cruisers _Cosamo_,
_Desaix_, _D'Estaing_, _Coetlogon_, and _Lalande_, the torpedo gunboats
_Iberville_, _Lance_, _Leger_, and _Fleche_, and the gun-vessels
_Etoile_, _Fulton_, _Gabes_, _Sagittaire_, and _Vipere_, with a large
number of torpedo boats and "catchers," in addition to those which were
at Hull.

As the vessels steamed onward at full speed, the people rushed from the
pier back again into the town in wild disorder, while the Coastguard at
Spanish Battery on the north shore of the estuary, having now discovered
the presence of the menacing ships, at once telegraphed the intelligence
up to Newcastle, where the most profound sensation was immediately
caused. The news spread everywhere, and the people on the Tyneside knew
that the hand of the oppressor was upon them.

Suddenly, without warning, smoke tumbled over the bows of the _Lazare
Carnot_. There was a low boom, and one of the ponderous guns in her
turret sent forth an enormous shell, which struck the battery at Trow
Point, blowing away a portion of a wall.

A moment later the battery replied with their 9-tonners, sending forth
shot after shot, most of which, however, ricochetted away over the
glassy sea. It was the signal for a fight which quickly became
desperate.

In a few moments half a dozen of the ships lay broadside on, and the
great guns of the _Massena_ and _Neptune_, with those of four other
vessels, opened a terrible fire upon the fort, casting their shells upon
the British gunners with frightful effect.

In the battery the Armstrong disappearing guns were worked to their
utmost capacity, and the shots of the defenders played havoc with the
smaller craft, three torpedo boats and a "catcher" being sunk in as many
minutes.

Meanwhile the _Active_, _Bonaventure_, _Cambrian_, _Canada_, and
_Archer_ of the Reserve Squadron, now on its way from the north of
Scotland in consequence of orders from the Admiralty having reached it,
rounded Sharpness Point, and steamed full upon the enemy's ships.

The conflict was fierce, but quickly ended.

Heavy fire was kept up from the fort at Tynemouth, from Spanish Battery,
from Trow Battery, and from several new batteries with disappearing guns
between the Groyne and the quarry at Trow, that had been constructed and
manned since the mobilisation by Volunteers, consisting of the 1st
Newcastle Volunteer Engineers, the 3rd Durham Volunteer Artillery, and
the 4th Durham Light Infantry from Newcastle. Nevertheless the
assistance received by the British ships from the land was of but little
avail, for a Russian torpedo boat sent forth its messenger of death at
the third-class cruiser _Canada_, blowing her up, while the engines of
both the _Active_ and _Bonaventure_ were so seriously damaged as to be
practically useless. Rapid signalling by the semaphore at Spanish
Battery had placed the defenders on the alert, and although the British
were suffering so heavily on account of their minority, still the enemy
were everywhere feeling the effect of the hot and unexpected reception.

Before half an hour had passed two Russian gunboats had been torpedoed,
and the French cruiser _D'Estaing_, having caught fire, was burning
furiously, many of her crew perishing at their guns.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE TYNE DISTRICT.]

The _Lazare Carnot_ and the _Massena_, heedless of the fire from the
shore, steamed at half speed across the estuary until they were opposite
the Tynemouth Battery, when they suddenly opened fire, being quickly
joined by six French and Russian cruisers. In the meantime the contact
mines were being blown up by piquet boats, who, although suffering
heavily from the fire from the shore, nevertheless continued their task.
It was then seen how utterly inadequate were the defences of the Tyne,
and what negligence had been displayed on the part of the War Office in
not providing at Tynemouth adequate means of warding off or successfully
coping with an attack.

From behind the tall grey lighthouse a few guns were thundering, but in
face of the overwhelming force at sea it was but a sorry attempt. One
shot from the battery severely damaged the superstructure of the _Lazare
Carnot_, another cut through the funnel of the _Neptune_, carrying it
away, and a third entering the magazine of one of the small cruisers
caused it to explode with serious loss of life. Yet the devastating
effect of the enemy's shells on the obsolete defences of Tynemouth was
appalling.

Enclosed in the fortifications were the crumbling ruins of the ancient
Priory, with its restored chapel, a graveyard, and an old Castle that
had been converted into artillery barracks. As flame and smoke rushed
continuously from the barbettes, turrets, and broadsides of the hostile
ships, the shots brought down the bare, dark old walls of the Priory,
and, crashing into the Castle, played havoc with the building. The
lantern of the lighthouse, too, was carried away, probably by a shot
flying accidentally wide, and every moment death and desolation was
being spread throughout the fort. Such a magnificent natural position,
commanding as it did the whole estuary of the Tyne, should have been
rendered impregnable, yet, as it remained in 1894, so it stood on this
fatal day, a typical example of War Office apathy and shortsightedness.

Its guns were a mere make-believe, that gave the place an appearance of
strength that it did not possess. In the North Battery, on the left
side, commanding a broad sweep of sea beyond Sharpness, only one gun, a
64-pounder, was mounted, the remaining five rotting platforms being
unoccupied! At the extreme point, to command the mouth of the river, a
single 5-tonner was placed well forward with great ostentation, its
weight, calibre, and other details having been painted up in conspicuous
white letters, for the delectation of an admiring public admitted to
view the Priory. The South Battery, a trifle stronger, was,
nevertheless, a sheer burlesque, its weakness being a disgrace to the
British nation. In fact, in the whole of the battery the upper defences
had long been known to experts to be obsolete, and the lower ones
totally inadequate for the resistance they should have been able to
offer.

Was it any wonder, then, that the shells of the enemy should cause such
frightful destruction? Among the British artillerymen there was no lack
of courage, for they exerted every muscle in their gallant efforts to
repulse the foe. Yet, handicapped as they were by lack of efficient arms
and properly constructed fortifications, their heroic struggles were
futile, and they sacrificed their lives to no purpose. The deadly hail
from the floating monsters swept away the whole of the ancient Priory
walls, demolishing the old red brick barracks, blowing up the Castle
gateway, wrecking the guardroom, and igniting the Priory Chapel. The
loss of life was terrible, the whole of the men manning the 5-ton gun
pointing seaward having been killed by a single shell that burst among
them, while everywhere else men of the Royal Artillery, and those of the
Tynemouth Volunteer Artillery, who were assisting, were killed or maimed
by the incessant rain of projectiles.

Night clouds gathered black and threatening, and it appeared as if the
enemy were carrying all before them. The French battleship _Neptune_,
seeing the guns of all three batteries had been considerably weakened,
was steaming slowly into the mouth of the Tyne, followed by the Russian
cruiser _Syzran_, when suddenly two terrific explosions occurred,
shaking both North and South Shields to their very foundations. High
into the air the water rose, and it was then seen that two submarine
mines had been exploded simultaneously by electric current from the
Tynemouth Battery, and that both vessels had been completely blown up.
Such was the force of the explosion, that the hull of the _Neptune_, a
great armour-clad of over ten thousand tons, had been ripped up like
paper, and of her crew scarcely a man escaped, while the cruiser had
been completely broken in half, and many of her crew blown to atoms.
Scarcely had this success of the defenders been realised when it was
followed by another, for a second later a British torpedo boat succeeded
in blowing up with all hands the French torpedo gunboat _Lance_.

These reverses, however, caused but little dismay among the invaders,
for ere long the British cruisers had been driven off, the guns at Trow
had been silenced, while those at Spanish Battery and Tynemouth could
only keep up a desultory fire. Then, in the falling gloom, ship after
ship, guided by foreign pilots, and carefully evading a number of hulks
that had been placed near the estuary, entered the Tyne, pouring forth
their heavy monotonous fire into North Shields and South Shields.
Skilfully as the despairing defenders managed their submarine mines,
they only succeeded in destroying three more of the enemy's ships, the
French torpedo gunboats _Iberville_ and _Cassini_ and the cruiser
_Desaix_, the crews perishing.

Not for a moment was there a cessation of the cannonade as the smaller
ships of the enemy advanced up the river, and the damage wrought by
their shells was enormous. Tynemouth had already suffered heavily, many
of the streets being in flames. The tower of St. Saviour's Church had
fallen, the conspicuous spire of the Congregational Chapel had been shot
away, the Piers Office had been reduced to ruins, and the long building
of the Royal Hotel completely wrecked. The houses facing Percy Park had
in many cases been shattered, a shell exploding under the archway of the
Bath Hotel had demolished it, and the handsome clock tower at the end of
the road had been hurled down and scattered.

Slackening opposite the Scarp, the gunboats and cruisers belched forth
shot and shell upon North Shields, aiming first at the more conspicuous
objects, such as the Sailors' Home, the Custom House, the tall tower of
Christ Church, and the Harbour Master's office, either totally
destroying them or injuring them irreparably, while the houses on Union
Quay and those in Dockway Square and in adjoining streets, from the
gasometers down to the Town Hall, were also swept by shells. Resistance
was made from Fort Clifford on the one side of the town, from a position
occupied by a battery of the Durham Volunteer Artillery, who had mounted
guns on the hill behind Smith's Yard, and also by the submarine mines of
the Tyne Division Volunteer Miners; but it was most ineffectual, and,
when night fell, hundreds of terror-stricken persons had been killed,
and the town was on fire in dozens of places, the flames illuminating
the sky with their lurid brilliancy.

In South Shields tragic scenes were being enacted. Shells flying about
the town from the river on the one side and the sea on the other
exploded in the streets, blowing unfortunate men, women, and children
into atoms, wrecking public buildings, and setting fire to the cherished
homes of the toilers. The congested blocks of buildings around Panash
Point were one huge furnace; the Custom House, the River Police Station,
and the Plate Glass Works were wrecked, while a shell exploding in one
of the petroleum tanks on the Commissioners' Wharf caused it to burst
with fearful effect. The queer old turret of St. Hilda's fell with a
crash, the Church of St. Stephen was practically demolished, and the
school in the vicinity unroofed. The dome of the Marine School was
carried bodily away; nothing remained standing of the Wouldhave Memorial
Clock but a few feet of the square lower structure, and the Ingham
Infirmary being set on fire, several of the patients lost their lives.
Amid this frightful panic, Lieut.-Col. Gowans and Major Carr of the 3rd
Durham Artillery, the Mayor, Mr. Readhead, Alderman Rennoldson,
Councillors Lisle, Marshall, and Stainton, the Town Clerk, Mr. Hayton,
and the Rev. H. E. Savage, were all conspicuous for the coolness they
displayed. Courage, however, was unavailing, for South Shields was at
the mercy of the invaders, and all defence was feeble and futile.
Hundreds of the townspeople were killed by flying fragments of shells,
hundreds more were buried in the debris of tottering buildings, while
those who survived fled horror-stricken with their valuables away into
the country, beyond the range of the enemy's fire.

The horrors of Hull were being repeated. The streets ran with the
life-blood of unoffending British citizens.

As evening wore on, the invaders came slowly up the Tyne, heedless of
the strenuous opposition with which they were met by Volunteer
Artillery, who, having established batteries on various positions
between Shields and Newcastle, poured a hot fire upon them. Advancing,
their terrible guns spread death and destruction on either bank.

The crowds of idle shipping in the great Tyne Dock at South Shields, and
those in the Albert Edward and Northumberland Docks on the north bank,
together with the staiths, warehouses, and offices, were blazing
furiously, while the Tyne Commissioners' great workshops, Edwards'
Shipbuilding Yard, and many other factories and shipbuilding yards, were
either set on fire or seriously damaged.

Many of the affrighted inhabitants of North Shields sought refuge in the
railway tunnel, and so escaped, but hundreds lost their lives in the
neighbourhood of Wallsend and Percy Main.

Shells fell in Swinburne's brass foundry at Carville, destroying the
buildings, together with the Carville Hotel and the railway viaduct
between that place and Howdon.

The Wallsend Railway Station and the Theatre of Varieties were blown to
atoms, and the houses both at High and Low Walker suffered severely,
while opposite at Jarrow enormous damage was everywhere caused. At the
latter place the 1st Durham Volunteer Engineers rendered excellent
defensive service under Lieut.-Col. Price and Major Forneaux, and the
Mayor was most energetic in his efforts to insure the safety of the
people. A submarine mine had been laid opposite Hebburn, and, being
successfully exploded, blew to atoms the French gunboat _Gabes_, and at
the same time seriously injured the propeller of the cruiser _Cosamo_.
This vessel subsequently broke down, and a second mine fired from the
shore destroyed her also. Nevertheless the invaders steadily advanced up
the broad river, blowing up obstacles, dealing decisive blows, and
destroying human life and valuable property with every shot from their
merciless weapons.

The panic that night in Newcastle was terrible. The streets were in a
turmoil of excitement, for the reports from Tynemouth had produced the
most intense alarm and dismay. On receipt of the first intelligence the
Free Library Committee of the City Council happened to be sitting, and
the chairman, Alderman H. W. Newton, the popular representative of All
Saints' North, formally announced it to his colleagues, among whom was
the Mayor. The committee broke up in confusion, and an excited
consultation followed, in which Councillors Durnford, Fitzgerald, and
Flowers, with Alderman Sutton, took part. Capt. Nicholls, the Chief
Constable, Major A. M. Potter of the 1st Northumberland Artillery,
Lieut.-Col. Angus of the 1st Newcastle Volunteer Artillery, Lieut.-Col.
Palmer and Major Emley of the Volunteer Engineers, Mr. Hill Motum, and
Mr. Joseph Cowen also entered the room and engaged in the discussion.

At such a hasty informal meeting, nothing, however, could be done. The
Mayor and Councillors were assured by the Volunteer officers that
everything possible under the circumstances had been arranged for the
defence of the Tyne. Property worth millions was at stake, and now that
the news had spread from mouth to mouth the streets around the Town Hall
were filled with crowds of excited, breathless citizens, anxious to know
what steps were being taken to insure their protection.

So loudly did they demand information, that the Mayor was compelled to
appear for a moment and address a few words to them, assuring them that
arrangements had been made which he hoped would be found adequate to
repel the foe. This appeased them in a measure, and the crowd dispersed;
but in the other thoroughfares the excitement was intensified, and
famished thousands rushed aimlessly about, many going out upon the High
Level and Low Level Bridges and straining their eyes down the river in
endeavour to catch a glimpse of the enemy.

Heavy and continuous firing could be heard as the dark evening dragged
on, and presently, just before nine o'clock, the anxious ones upon the
bridges saw the flash of guns as the invading vessels rounded the sharp
bend of the river at the ferry beyond Rotterdam Wharf.

The sight caused the people to rush panic-stricken up into the higher
parts of Newcastle or across the bridges into Gateshead, and from both
towns a rapid exodus was taking place, thousands fleeing into the
country. From gun-vessels, torpedo gunboats, and cruisers, shot and
shell poured in continuous streams into the wharves, shipping, and
congested masses of houses on either bank.

The houses along City Road, St. Lawrence Road, Quality Row, and Byker
Bank, on the outskirts of Newcastle, suffered severely, while shots
damaged the great Ouseburn Viaduct, wrecked St. Dominic's Roman Catholic
Chapel, and blew away the roof of the new Board School, a prominent
feature of the landscape.

Several shells fell and exploded in Jesmond Vale. One burst and set fire
to the Sandyford Brewery, and one or two falling in Portland Road caused
widespread destruction and terrible loss of life. The London and Hamburg
Wharves, with the shipping lying near, were soon blazing furiously, and
all along Quay Side, right up to the Guildhall, shops and offices were
every moment being destroyed and swept away. New Greenwich and South
Shore on the Gateshead side were vigorously attacked, and many shots
fired over the Salt Marshes fell in the narrow thoroughfares that lie
between Sunderland Road and Brunswick Street.

Upon the enemy's ships the Volunteer batteries on the commanding
positions on either side of the high banks poured a galling fire, one
battery at the foot of the Swing Bridge on the Gateshead side effecting
terrible execution. Their guns had been well laid, and the salvoes of
shell played about the French gun-vessels and torpedo boats, causing
frightful destruction among the crews. Both Newcastle and Gateshead,
lying so much higher than the river, were in a certain measure
protected, and the high banks afforded a wide command over the waterway.
At various points, including the entrances to the High Level Bridge, at
the Side, the Close, New Chatham, and the Rabbit Banks, the Volunteers
had opened fire, and were keeping up a terrible cannonade. The dark
river reflected the red light which flashed forth every moment from gun
muzzles, while search-lights from both ships and shore were constantly
streaming forth, and the thunder of war shook the tall factory chimneys
to their very foundations.

Heedless of the strenuous opposition, the invading ships kept up a
vigorous fire, which, aimed high, fell in the centre of Newcastle with
most appalling effect. In the midst of the crowds in Newgate and
Pilgrim Streets shells exploded, blowing dozens of British citizens to
atoms and tearing out the fronts of shops. One projectile, aimed at the
strangely shaped tower of St. Nicholas' Cathedral, struck it, and swept
away the thin upper portion, and another, crashing into the sloping roof
of the grim, time-mellowed relic Black Gate, shattered it, and tore away
part of the walls.

The old castle and the railway bridge were also blown up in the earlier
stages of the bombardment, and the square tower of St. John's fell with
a sudden crash right across the street, completely blocking it. From end
to end Grainger Street was swept by French melinite shells, which,
bursting in rapid succession, filled the air with tiny flying fragments,
each as fatal as a bullet fired from a rifle. The French shell is much
more formidable than ours, for, while the latter breaks into large
pieces, the former is broken up into tiny and exceedingly destructive
fragments.

In the midst of this terrible panic a shot cut its way through the Earl
Grey Monument, causing it to fall, many persons being crushed to death
beneath the stones, while both the Central Exchange and the Theatre
Royal were now alight, shedding a brilliant glare skyward.

At this time, too, the whole of Quay Side was a mass of roaring,
crackling flames, the thin spire of St. Mary's Roman Catholic Cathedral
had been shot away, Bainbridge's great emporium was blazing furiously,
and the Art Club premises had taken fire. One shot had fallen at the
back of the Town Hall, and torn an enormous hole in the wall, while
another, entering the first floor of the County Hotel, had burst with
awful force, and carried away the greater part of its gloomy facade.

In the Central Station opposite, dozens of shells had exploded, and it
was now on fire, hopelessly involved together with the adjoining Station
Hotel. The grey front of the imposing _Chronicle_ building had been
wrecked by a shell that had descended upon the roof, and a row of dark
old-fashioned houses in Eldon Square had been demolished.

The same fate had been shared by the Co-operative Wholesale Society's
warehouse, the Fish Market, the _Journal_ office, and both the Crown and
Metropole Hotels at the bottom of Clayton Street.

Yet the firing continued; the terrified citizens were granted no
quarter. The Royal Arcade was blown to atoms, the new red brick
buildings of the Prudential Assurance Company were set on fire, and were
blazing with increasing fury. The building of the North British and
Mercantile Assurance Company, the Savings Bank at the corner of Newgate
Street, and the Empire Theatre were wrecked. Along New Bridge Street
dozens of houses were blown to pieces, several fine residences in
Ellison Place were utterly demolished and blocked the roadway with their
debris, and the whole city, from the river up to Brandling Village, was
swept time after time by salvoes of devastating shots. Rows of houses
fell, and in hundreds the terrified people were massacred. Away over the
Nun's Moor shells were hurled and burst, and others were precipitated
into the great Armstrong works at Elswick.

Suddenly, in the midst of the incessant thunder, a series of terrific
explosions occurred, and the great High Level Bridge collapsed, and fell
with an awful crash into the Tyne. The enemy had placed dynamite under
the huge brick supports, and blown them up simultaneously. A few moments
later the Swing Bridge was treated in similar manner; but the enemy,
under the galling fire from the Volunteer batteries, were now losing
frightfully. Many of the new guns at the Elswick works were brought into
action, and several ironclads in the course of construction afforded
cover to those desperately defending their homes.

But this blow of the invaders had been struck at a most inopportune
moment, and was evidently the result of an order that had been
imperfectly understood. It caused them to suffer a greater disaster than
they had anticipated. Six torpedo boats and two gun-vessels had passed
under the bridge, and, lying off the Haughs, were firing into the
Elswick works at the moment when the bridges were demolished, and the
debris, falling across the stream, cut off all means of escape.

[Illustration: NEWCASTLE BOMBARDED: BLOWING UP OF THE HIGH LEVEL
BRIDGE.]

The defenders, noticing this, worked on, pounding away at the hostile
craft with merciless monotony, until one after another the French and
Russians were blown to atoms, and their vessels sank beneath them into
the dark, swirling waters.

While this was proceeding, two mines, one opposite Hill Gate, at
Gateshead, and the other near the Rotterdam Wharf, on the Newcastle
side, were fired by the Volunteer Engineers, who thus succeeded in
blowing up two more French gunboats, while the battery at the foot of
the Swing Bridge sank two more torpedo boats, and that in front of the
Chemical Works at Gateshead sent a shell into the "vitals" of one of the
most powerful torpedo gunboats, with the result that she blew up.

Everywhere the enemy were being cut to pieces.

Seeing the trap into which their vessels had fallen above the ruined
bridges, and feeling that they had caused sufficient damage, they
turned, and with their guns still belching forth flame, steamed at half
speed back again towards the sea.

But they were not allowed to escape so easily, for the mines recently
laid by the Volunteers were now brought into vigorous play, and in the
long reach of the river between High Walker and Wallsend no fewer than
six more of the enemy's gun and torpedo boats had their bottoms blown
out, and their crews torn limb from limb.

Flashed throughout the land, the news of the enemy's repulse, though
gained at such enormous loss, excited a feeling of profound
satisfaction.

The injury inflicted on the invaders had been terrible, and from that
attack upon the Tyne they had been hurled reeling back the poorer by the
loss of a whole fleet of torpedo and gun boats, one of the most
effective arms of their squadrons, while the sea had closed over one of
France's proudest battleships, the _Neptune_, and no fewer than four of
her cruisers.

The surviving vessels, which retreated round the Black Middens and
gained the open sea, all more or less had their engines crippled, and
not half the men that had manned them escaped alive.

They had wrought incalculable damage, it is true, for part of Newcastle
was burning, and the loss of life had been terrible; yet they were
driven back by the Volunteers' desperately vigorous fire, and the lives
of many thousands in Newcastle and Gateshead had thus been saved at the
eleventh hour by British patriots.

Alas, it was a black day in England's history!

Was this to be a turning-point in the wave of disaster which had swept
so suddenly upon our land?




CHAPTER XVII.

HELP FROM OUR COLONIES.


Days passed--dark, dismal, dispiriting. Grim-visaged War had crushed all
joy and gaiety from British hearts, and fierce patriotism and
determination to fight on until the bitter end mingled everywhere with
hunger, sadness, and despair. British homes had been desecrated, British
lives had been sacrificed, and through the land the invaders rushed
ravaging with fire and sword.

Whole towns had been overwhelmed and shattered, great tracts of rich
land in Sussex and Hampshire had been laid waste, and the people,
powerless against the enormous forces sweeping down upon them, had been
mercilessly mowed down and butchered by Cossacks, whose brutality was
fiendish. Everywhere there were reports of horrible atrocities, of
heartless murders, and wholesale slaughter of the helpless and
unoffending.

The situation, both in Great Britain and on the Continent, was most
critical. The sudden declaration of hostilities by France and Russia had
resulted in a great war in which nearly all European nations were
involved. Germany had sent her enormous land forces over her frontiers
east and west, successfully driving back the French along the Vosges,
and occupying Dijon, Chalons-sur-Saone, and Lyons. Valmy, Nancy, and
Metz had again been the scenes of sanguinary encounters, and Chaumont
and Troyes had both fallen into the hands of the Kaiser's legions. In
Poland, however, neither Germans nor Austrians had met with such
success. A fierce battle had been fought at Thorn between the Tsar's
forces and the Germans, and the former, after a desperate stand, were
defeated, and the Uhlans, dragoons, and infantry of the Fatherland had
swept onward up the valley of the Vistula to Warsaw. Here the resistance
offered by General Bodisco was very formidable, but the city was
besieged, while fierce fighting was taking place all across the level
country that lay between the Polish capital and the Prussian frontier.
Austrians and Hungarians fought fiercely, the Tyrolese Jaegers displaying
conspicuous bravery at Brody, Cracow, Jaroslav, and along the banks of
the San, and they had succeeded up to the present in preventing the
Cossacks and Russian infantry from reaching the Carpathians, although an
Austrian army corps advancing into Russia along the Styr had been
severely cut up and forced to retreat back to Lemberg.

Italy had burst her bonds. Her Bersaglieri, cuirassiers, Piedmontese
cavalry, and carabiniers had marched along the Corniche road into
Provence, and, having occupied Nice, Cannes, and Draguigan, were on
their way to attack Marseilles, while the Alpine infantry, taking the
road over Mont Cenis, had, after very severe fighting in the beautiful
valley between Susa and Bardonnechia, at last occupied Modane and
Chambery, and now intended joining hands with the Germans at Lyons.

France was now receiving greater punishment than she had anticipated,
and even those members of the Cabinet and Deputies who were responsible
for the sudden invasion of England were compelled to admit that they had
made a false move. The frontiers were being ravaged, and although the
territorial regiments remaining were considered sufficient to repel
attack, yet the Army of the Saone had already been cut to pieces. In
these circumstances, France, knowing the great peril she ran in
prolonging the invasion of Britain, was desperately anxious to make the
British sue for peace, so that she could turn her attention to events at
home, and therefore, although in a measure contravening International
Law, she had instructed her Admirals to bombard British seaports and
partially-defended towns.

Although the guns of the hostile fleet had wrought such appalling havoc
on the Humber, on the Tyne, and along the coast of Kent and Sussex,
nevertheless the enemy had only secured a qualified success. The cause
of all the disasters that had befallen us, of the many catastrophes on
land and sea, was due to the wretchedly inadequate state of our Navy,
although the seven new battleships and six cruisers commenced in 1894
were now complete and afloat.

Had we possessed an efficient Navy the enemy could never have approached
our shores. We had not a sufficient number of ships to replace
casualties. Years behind in nearly every essential point, Britain had
failed to give her cruisers either speed or guns equal in strength to
those of other nations. Our guns were the worst in the world, no fewer
than 47 vessels still mounting 350 old muzzleloaders, weapons discarded
by every other European Navy.

For years it had been a race between the hare and the tortoise. We had
remained in dreamy unconsciousness of danger, while other nations had
quickly taken advantage of all the newly-discovered modes of destruction
that make modern warfare so terrible.

Notwithstanding the odds against us in nearly every particular, the
British losses had been nothing as compared with those of the enemy.
This spoke much for British pluck and pertinacity. With a force against
them of treble their strength, British bluejackets had succeeded in
sinking a number of the finest and most powerful ships of France and
Russia. France had lost the _Amiral Duperre_, a magnificent steel vessel
of eleven thousand tons; the _Neptune_ and _Redoutable_, a trifle
smaller; the _Tonnerre_, the _Terrible_, the _Furieux_, the
_Indomptable_, the _Caiman_, all armoured ships, had been lost; while
the cruisers _D'Estaing_, _Sfax_, _Desaix_, _Cosamo_, _Faucon_, the
despatch-vessel _Hirondelle_, the gunboats _Iberville_, _Gabes_, and
_Lance_, and eleven others, together with sixteen torpedo boats and
numbers of transports, had been either blown up, burned, or otherwise
destroyed.

The losses the Russians had sustained, in addition to the many
transports and general service steamers, included the great steel
cruiser _Nicolai I._, the vessels _Gerzog Edinburgskij_, _Syzran_,
_Rynda_, _Asia_, _Gangut_, _Kranaya Gorka_, _Olaf_, and the torpedo boat
_Abo_, with eight others.

The destruction of this enormous force had, of course, not been effected
without an infliction of loss upon the defenders, yet the British
casualties bore no comparison to those of the enemy. True, the armoured
turret-ship _Conqueror_ had, alas! been sacrificed; the fine
barbette-ships _Centurion_ and _Rodney_ had gone to the bottom; the
splendid first-class cruiser _Aurora_ and the cruiser _Narcissus_ had
been blown up; while the cruisers _Terpsichore_, _Melampus_, _Tribune_,
_Galatea_, and _Canada_, with a number of torpedo boats and "catchers,"
had also been destroyed, yet not before every crew had performed heroic
deeds worthy of record in the world's history, and every vessel had
shown the French and Russians what genuine British courage could effect.

Still the invaders were striking swift, terrible blows. On the Humber
and the Tyne the loss of life had been appalling. The bombardment of
Brighton, the sack of Eastbourne, and the occupation of the Downs by the
land forces, had been effected only by wholesale rapine and awful
bloodshed, and Britain waited breathlessly, wondering in what direction
the next catastrophe would occur.

Such newspapers as in these dark days continued to appear reported how
great mass meetings were being held all over the United States,
denouncing the action of the Franco-Russian forces.

In New York, Chicago, Washington, Philadelphia, Boston, San Francisco,
and other cities, resolutions were passed at enormous demonstrations by
the enthusiastic public, demanding that the United States Government
should give an immediate ultimatum to France that unless she withdrew
her troops from British soil, war would be declared against her.

Special sittings of Congress were being held daily at Washington for the
purpose of discussing the advisability of such a step; influential
deputations waited upon the President, and all the prominent statesmen
were interviewed by the various enterprising New York journals, the
result showing a great preponderance of feeling that such a measure
should be at once taken.

In British colonies throughout the world the greatest indignation and
most intense excitement prevailed. Already bodies of Volunteers were on
their way from Australia and Cape Town, many of the latter, under Major
Scott, having already been in England and shot as competitors at Bisley.
From India a number of native regiments had embarked for Southampton,
but the Northern frontier stations had been strengthened in anticipation
of a movement south by Russia, and the French Indian possessions,
Pondichery and Karikal, were occupied by British troops.

An expedition from Burmah had crossed the Shan States into Tonquin, and
with the assistance of the British Squadron on the China Station had,
after hard fighting, occupied a portion of the country, while part of
the force had gone farther south and commenced operations in French
Cochin-China by a vigorous attack on Saigon.

Armed British forces had also landed in Guadaloupe and Martinique, two
of the most fertile of the West Indian Islands, and St. Bartholomew had
also been occupied by West Indian regiments.

On the outbreak of hostilities intense patriotism spread through Canada,
and from the shores of Lake Superior away to far Vancouver a movement
was at once made to assist the Mother Country. In Quebec, Montreal,
Ottawa, Toronto, and Kingston mass meetings were held, urging the
Dominion Government to allow a force of Volunteers to go to England
without delay; and this universal demand was the more gratifying when it
was remembered that more than a quarter of the population were
themselves French. Nevertheless the knowledge that Britain was in danger
was sufficient to arouse patriotism everywhere, and within a few days
20,000 Volunteers were enrolled, and these, before a fortnight had
passed, were on their way to Liverpool. Great was the enthusiasm when, a
few days later, to the strains of "Rule, Britannia," the first
detachment landed in the Mersey, and as they marched through the crowded
streets, the people, delighted at this practical demonstration of
sympathy, wrung the hands of the patriots of the West. Vessel after
vessel, escorted by British cruisers, arrived at the landing-stage, and
discharged their regiments of men to whom the knowledge of Britain's
danger had been sufficient incentive to induce them to act their part as
Britons. Then, when the last vessel had arrived, they were formed into a
brigade, and set out to march south in the direction of Birmingham.

Meanwhile a great loan was being floated in Australia and the United
States. The former colony had but recently passed through a serious
financial crisis, but in America a sum of no less than L200,000,000 was
taken up, although the issue only continued a few days. In Wall Street
the excitement was intense, and the struggle to invest was desperate. No
such scenes had ever been witnessed within the memory of the oldest
member of the Stock Exchange, for financiers were determined to assist
the greatest Power on earth; indeed, apart from the sound security
offered, they felt it their duty to do so. Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane,
and Calcutta all contributed in more or less degree, and the loan
immediately proved the most successful ever floated.

To Britain on every side a helping hand was outstretched, and,
irrespective of politics and party bickerings, assistance was rendered
in order that she might crush her enemies. Britannia gathered her
strength, and armed herself for the fierce combat which she knew must
decide the destiny of her glorious Empire.

London, starving, terror-stricken, and haunted continually by
apprehensions of an unknown doom, was in a state of restlessness both
night and day. Food supplies had failed, the cheapest bread was sold at
3s. 8d. a small loaf, and neither fish nor meat could be purchased.

In the City the panic was frightful. Business was paralysed, hundreds
were being ruined daily, and after the first sensation and headlong rush
on the Stock Exchange, transactions remained at a standstill. Then
suddenly, when the seriousness of the situation was fully understood,
there was a run on the banks.

Crowds, eager and clamouring, surrounded the Bank of England, and
establishments in Lombard Street and elsewhere, with cheques in their
hands, demanding their deposits in gold. Although weak and half-starved,
they desired their money in order to flee and take with them all they
possessed before the enemy swept down upon London.

Day and night in all the City banks the cashiers were kept paying out
thousands upon thousands in hard shining gold. The clink of coin, the
jingle of scales, and the eager shouts of those feverishly anxious for
their turn, and fearing the resources would not hold out, formed a loud
incessant din.

As the days passed, and the run on the banks continued, one after
another of the establishments, both in the City and the West End, unable
to withstand the heavy withdrawals, were compelled to close their doors.
Many were banks of such high reputation that the very fact of being a
depositor was a hall-mark of a man's prosperity, while others were minor
establishments, whose business was mainly with small accounts and
middle-class customers. One by one they failed to fulfil their
obligations, and closed; and the unfortunate ones, including many women
who had not been able to struggle successfully to get inside, turned
away absolutely ruined!

In the West End the starving poor had formed processions, and marched
through Mayfair and Belgravia demanding bread, while Anarchists held
council in front of the blackened ruins of the National Gallery, and the
Unemployed continued their declamatory oratory on Tower Hill. The
starving thousands from the East End ran riot in the aristocratic
thoroughfares of Kensington, and, heedless of the police,--who were, in
fact, powerless before such superior numbers,--residences of the rich
were entered and searched for food, and various acts of violence
ensued. The cellars of clubs, hotels, and private houses were broken
open and sacked, granaries were emptied, wholesale grocery warehouses
were looted, and flour mills searched from roof to basement. If they
could not obtain food, they said, they would drink. A desperate starving
crowd then forced an entry to the wine vaults at the Docks, and
swallowed priceless vintages from pewter pots. Hogsheads of port and
sherry were carried up into the streets, and amid scenes of wild
disorder were tapped and drunk by the excited and already
half-intoxicated multitude.

For days London remained at the mercy of a drunken, frenzied rabble.
Murder and incendiarism were committed in every quarter, and many
serious and desperate conflicts occurred between the rioters and the
law-abiding patriotic citizens.

Enthusiasm was displayed by even the latter, when an infuriated mob one
night surrounded Albert Gate House, the French Embassy, and, breaking
open the door, entered it, and flung the handsome furniture from the
windows.

Those below made a huge pile in the street, and when the whole of the
movable effects had been got out, the crowd set fire to them, and also
to the great mansion, at the same time cheering lustily, and singing
"Rule, Britannia," as they watched the flames leap up and consume both
house and furniture.

The servants of the Embassy had fortunately escaped, otherwise they
would no doubt have fared badly at the hands of the lawless assembly.

When the fire had burned itself out, however, a suggestion was spread,
and the mob with one accord rushed to the Russian Embassy in Chesham
Place.

This house was also entered, and the furniture flung pell-mell from the
windows, that too large to pass through being broken up in the rooms,
and the fragments thrown to the shouting crowd below.

Chairs, tables, ornaments, mirrors, bedding, kitchen utensils, and
crockery were thrown out, carpets were taken up, and curtains and
cornices torn down by ruthless denizens of Whitechapel and Shoreditch,
who, maddened by drink, were determined to destroy everything belonging
to the countries which had brought disaster upon them.

Presently, when nearly all the furniture had been removed, some man,
wild-haired and excited, emerged into the street, with a great flag he
had discovered in one of the attics. With a shout of delight he unfurled
it. It was a large yellow one, upon which was depicted a huge black
double eagle; the flag that had been hoisted at the Embassy on various
State occasions.

Its appearance was greeted by a fearful howl of rage, and the infuriated
people, falling upon the man who waved it, tore it into shreds, which
they afterwards cast into the bonfire they had made for the Ambassador's
furniture.

From the archives the secret papers and reports of spies were taken,
and, being torn into fragments, were scattered from an upper window to
the winds, until at last, men, snatching up flaring brands from the huge
bonfire, rushed into the dismantled mansion, and, having poured
petroleum in many of the apartments, ignited them.

Flames quickly spread through the house, belching forth from the
windows, and, ascending, had soon burst through the roof, illuminating
the neighbourhood with a bright, fitful glare. The mob, as the flames
leaped up and crackled, screamed with fiendish delight. From thousands
of hoarse throats there went up loud cries of "Down with the Tsar! Down
with Russia!" And as the great bonfire died down, and the roof of the
Embassy collapsed with a crash, causing the flames to shoot higher and
roar more vigorously, they sang with one accord, led by a man who had
mounted some railings, the stirring British song, "The Union Jack of Old
England."

Although the colonies had shown how zealously they were prepared to
guard the interests of the Mother Country, their public spirit was
eclipsed by the spontaneous outburst of patriotism which occurred in
Ireland. Mass meetings were being held in Belfast, Dublin, Cork,
Waterford, Limerick, Londonderry, Sligo, Armagh, Dundalk, Newry, and
dozens of other places, at which men of all grades of society
unanimously decided by resolution to raise Volunteer regiments to take
arms against the foe.

The knowledge of Britain's danger had aroused the patriotic feelings of
the people, and they were determined to give their sovereign a proof of
their allegiance, cost what it might.

The movement was a general one. Nationalists and Unionists vied in their
eagerness to demonstrate their love for the Empire, and that part of it
which was now in danger.

Already the Irish Reserve forces had been mobilised and sent to their
allotted stations. The 3rd Irish Rifles from Newtownards, the 5th
Battalion from Downpatrick, and the 6th from Dundalk, were at Belfast
under arms; the Donegal Artillery from Letterkenny had already gone to
Harwich to assist in the defence of the east coast; and both the
Londonderry and Sligo Artillery had gone to Portsmouth; while the 3rd
Irish Fusiliers from Armagh were at Plymouth, and the 4th Battalion from
Cavan had left to assist in the defence of the Severn.

Whatever differences of political opinion had previously existed between
them on the question of Home Rule, were forgotten by the people in the
face of the great danger which threatened the Empire to which they
belonged. The national peril welded the people together, and shoulder to
shoulder they marched to lay down their lives, if necessary, in the work
of driving back the invader.

Within six days of this spontaneous outburst of patriotism, 25,000
Irishmen of all creeds and political opinions were on their way to
assist their English comrades. As might have been expected, the greater
number of these Volunteers came from the North of Ireland, but every
district sent its sons, eager to take part in the great struggle. At the
great meetings held at Dublin, Belfast, Cork, Limerick, Wexford,
Waterford, Strabane, Newtown-Stewart, Downpatrick, Ballymena, and dozens
of other places all over the country, from the Giant's Causeway to Cape
Clear, and from Dublin to Galway Bay, the most intense enthusiasm was
shown, and men signed their names to the roll in hundreds, many
subscribing large sums to defray the cost of equipment and other
expenses. Each passenger or mail boat from Larne to Stranraer, from
Dublin to Holyhead, every steamer from Belfast to Whitehaven and
Liverpool, brought over well-armed contingents of stalwart men, who,
after receiving hearty receptions of the most enthusiastic and
flattering description, were moved south to Stamford in Lincolnshire as
quickly as the disorganised railway service would allow.

The object of the military authorities in concentrating them at this
point was to strengthen the great force of defenders now marching south.
Detraining at Stamford, the commanding officer had orders to march to
Oundle, by way of King's Cliffe and Fotheringhay, and there remain until
joined by a brigade of infantry with the Canadians coming from
Leicestershire. The great body of men at length mustered, answered the
roll, and marched through the quiet old-world streets of Stamford, and
out upon the broad highway to King's Cliffe on the first stage of their
journey.

It was early morning. In the sunlight the dew still glistened like
diamonds on the wayside, as regiment after regiment, with firm, steady
step, and shouldering their rifles, bravely passed away through the
fields of ripe uncut corn, eager to unite with a force of Regulars, and
strike their first blow for their country's liberty.

Sturdy fishermen from the rough shores of Donegal marched side by side
with townsmen and artisans from Dublin, Belfast, and Limerick; sons of
wealthy manufacturers in Antrim and Down bore arms with stalwart
peasantry from Kerry and Tipperary; while men whose poor but cherished
cabins overlooked Carlingford Lough, united with fearless patriots from
Carlow, Wexford, and Waterford.

Since they landed on English soil, they had met with a boundless
welcome.

In the rural districts the distress was not yet so great as in the
larger towns; consequently at King's Cliffe, when the first detachment
halted for rest in the long straggling street of the typical English
village, the bells of the quaint old church were rung, and villagers
gave their defenders bread, cheese, and draughts of ale. While the men
were standing at ease and eating heartily, two officers entered
Bailey's, the village grocery store, which served as post office, and
received a cipher telegraphic despatch. They emerged into the roadway
immediately, and their faces showed that some unforeseen event had
occurred. A third officer was summoned, and a hurried and secret
consultation took place as they stood together opposite the Cross Keys
Inn.

"But can we do it?" queried the youngest of the trio, aloud, pulling on
his gloves, and settling the hang of his sword.

The grave elder man, commander of the brigade, glanced quickly at his
watch, with knit brows.

"Do it?" he replied, with a marked Irish accent. "We must. It'll be a
dash for life; but the boys are fresh, and as duty calls, we must push
onward, even though we may be marching to our doom. Go," he said to the
youngest of his two companions, "tell them we are moving, and that our
advance guard will reach them at the earliest possible moment."

The young lieutenant hurried over to the little shop, and as he did so
the colonel gave an order, and a bugle awoke the echoes of the village.

Quick words of command sounded down the quaint, ancient street, followed
by the sharp click of arms. Again officers' voices sounded loud and
brief, and at the word "March!" the great body of stern loyalists moved
onward over the bridge, and up the School Hill on to the long winding
road which led away through Apesthorpe and historic Fotheringhay to
Oundle.

The message from the front had been immediately responded to, for a few
minutes later the excited villagers stood watching the rearguard
disappearing in the cloud of dust raised by the heavy tread of the
thousand feet upon the white highway.

[Illustration: IRISH VOLUNTEERS HALTING IN KING'S CLIFFE.]




CHAPTER XVIII.

RUSSIAN ADVANCE IN THE MIDLANDS.


Through the land the grey-coated hordes of the White Tsar spread like
locusts--their track marked by death and desolation.

Both French and Russian troops had taken up carefully selected positions
on the Downs, and, backed by the enormous reinforcements now landed,
were slowly advancing. Every detail of the surprise invasion had
apparently been carefully considered, for immediately after the fierce
battle off Beachy Head a number of French and Russian cruisers were
despatched to the Channel ports in order to threaten them, so as to
prevent many of the troops in Hampshire, Dorset, and Devon from moving
to their place of assembly. Consequently large bodies of British troops
were compelled to remain inactive, awaiting probable local attacks.

Meanwhile the invaders lost no time in extending their flanks
preparatory to a general advance, and very quickly they were in
possession of all the high ground from Polegate to Steyning Down, while
Cossack patrols were out on the roads towards Cuckfield and West
Grinstead, and demonstrations were made in the direction of Horsham,
where a strong force of British troops had hastily collected.

As the long hot days passed, the Volunteers forming the line of defence
south of London had not been idle. A brigade of infantry had been pushed
forward to Balcombe, and with this the British were now watching the
high ground that stretched across to Horsham.

The advance of the enemy had not, of course, been accomplished without
terrible bloodshed. A division of the Regulars from Parkhurst,
Portsmouth, and Winchester, which had been hurried down to Arundel to
occupy a strong defensive position near that town, had come into contact
with the enemy, and some desperate fighting ensued. Outposts had been
thrown across the river Arun, and about midnight a patrol of the 2nd
Cavalry Brigade from Petersfield, supported by infantry, had been
suddenly attacked close to Ashington village. Under a vigorous fire they
were unfortunately compelled to fall back fighting, and were almost
annihilated, for it was only then ascertained that the enemy were moving
in great force, evidently with the intention of obtaining possession of
the heights as far as Cocking, West Dean, and Chichester, and so
threaten Portsmouth from the land.

The survivors of this cavalry patrol succeeded in recrossing the Arun,
but their losses were exceedingly heavy.

At daybreak the enemy were visible from Arundel, and shot and shell were
poured into them from the batteries established along the hills to
Houghton. So heavy was the British fire that the Russians were compelled
to seek cover, and their advance in this direction was, for this time,
checked.

The defenders, although occupying an excellent position, were, however,
not sufficiently strong to successfully cope with the onward rush of
invaders, and could do little else beyond watching them.

On the other hand, the Russians, displaying great tactical skill, and
led by men who had thoroughly studied the geography of the South of
England, had gained a distinct advantage, for they had secured their
left flank from attack, so that they could now advance northward to
Horsham and Balcombe practically unmolested.

The first general movement commenced at noon, when an advance was made
by two enormous columns of the enemy, one of which proceeded by way of
Henfield and Partridge Green and the other by Cooksbridge and Keynes,
the third column remaining in Sussex to protect the base of operations.
Meanwhile, Horsham had been occupied by a portion of the 2nd division of
the 1st Army Corps with a 12-pounder, a 9-pounder field battery, and a
field company of the Royal Engineers, and had been placed in a state of
hasty defence. Walls had been loopholed, fences had been cut down, and
various preparations made for holding the town.

Our forces were, nevertheless, sadly lacking in numbers. A cavalry
patrol of one of our flying columns was captured by Cossacks at Cowfold,
and the neglect on the part of the commander of this column to send out
his advance guard sufficiently far, resulted in it being hurled back
upon the main body in great disorder. Then, seeing the success
everywhere attending their operations, the invaders turned their
attention to the British line of communication between Horsham and
Arundel, and succeeded in breaking it at Billinghurst and at Petworth.

Fierce fighting spread all over Sussex, and everywhere many lives were
being sacrificed for Britain. The defenders, alas! with their weak and
totally inadequate forces, could make but a sorry stand against the
overwhelming masses of French and Russians, yet they acted with
conspicuous bravery to sustain the honour of their native land. Villages
and towns were devastated, rural homes were sacked and burned, and
everywhere quiet, unoffending, but starving Britons were being put to
the sword.

Over Sussex the reign of terror was awful. The pastures were stained by
Britons' life-blood, and in all directions our forces, though displaying
their characteristic courage, were being routed. At Horsham they were
utterly defeated after a fierce and bloody encounter, in which the enemy
also lost very heavily; yet the cause of the British reverse was due
solely to a defective administration. Hurriedly massed in the town from
Aldershot by way of Guildford, they had, owing to the short-sighted
policy of the War Office, arrived without a sufficient supply of either
transport or ammunition. Night was falling as they detrained, and in the
hopeless confusion battalion commanders could not find their brigade
headquarters, and brigadiers could not find their staff.

This extraordinary muddle resulted in the fresh troops, instead of being
sent forward to reinforce the outposts, being kept in town, while the
jaded, ill-fed men, who had already been on the alert many hours, were
utterly unable to resist the organised attack which was made before
daybreak.

Though they made a gallant stand and fought on with desperate
determination, yet at last the whole of them were driven back in
confusion, and with appalling loss, upon their supports, and the latter,
who held out bravely, were at last also compelled to fall back upon
their reserves. The latter, which included half a battery of artillery
stationed at Wood's Farm and Toll Bar, held the enemy in temporary
check; but when the heavy French artillery was at length brought up, the
invaders were enabled to cut the railway, destroy the half battery at
Wood's Farm, turn the British right flank, and compel them to retreat
hastily from Horsham and fly to defensive positions at Guildford and
Dorking.

By this adroit manoeuvre the enemy succeeded in taking over two hundred
prisoners, capturing the guns of the 12-pounder field battery,--which
had not been brought into play for the simple reason that only
ammunition for 9-pounders had been collected in the town,--and seizing a
large quantity of stores and ammunition of various kinds.

This success gave the enemy the key to the situation.

As on sea, so on land, our blundering defensive policy had resulted in
awful disaster. Sufficient attention had never been paid to detail, and
the firm-rooted idea that Britain could never be invaded had caused
careless indifference to minor matters of vital importance to the
stability of our Empire.

The contrast between the combined tactics of the enemy and those of our
forces was especially noticeable when the cavalry patrol of the British
flying column was captured on the Cowfield road and the column defeated.
The commander of the column, a well-known officer, unfortunately, like
many others, had had very little experience of combined tactics, and
looked upon cavalry not merely as "the eyes and ears of an army," but as
the army itself. It was this defect that was disastrous. For many years
past it had never appeared quite clear whether British cavalry were
intended to act _en masse_ in warfare, or simply as scouts or mounted
infantry, therefore their training had been uncertain. The Home
establishment of our cavalry was supposed to be about 12,000 men, but
owing to a parsimonious administration only about half that number had
horses, and in some corps less than a half. Another glaring defect was
the division of many regiments into detachments stationed in various
towns, the inevitable result of this being that many such detachments
were without regimental practice for months, and there were many who had
not manoeuvred with a force of all arms _for years_!

Army organisation proved a miserable failure.

The supply of ammunition was totally inadequate, and a disgrace to a
nation which held its head above all others. It was true that depots had
been established at various centres, yet with strange oversight no
provision had been made for the work of ammunition trains.

Originally it had been intended that men for this most important duty
should be found by the Reserves, and that the horses should be those
privately registered; nevertheless it was found necessary at the very
last moment to weaken our artillery by detailing experienced men for
duty with the ammunition column. Many of the horses which were
registered for service were found to be totally unfit, and very few of
the remainder had been previously trained. In the case of those which
were required for the cavalry regiments--nearly six thousand--the best
men in the regiments had to be told off at the very beginning of the
invasion to hurriedly train and prepare these animals for service, when
they should have been available to proceed to any part of the kingdom at
twenty-four hours' notice. By such defects mobilisation was foredoomed
to failure.

The scheme, instead of being so arranged as to be carried out without
confusion, resulted in muddle and farcical humiliation.

Again, the infantry, owing to the recent departure of the Indian drafts,
had been considerably weakened, many battalions being found on
mobilisation very disorganised and inefficient. As an instance, out of
one battalion at Aldershot, which was on paper 1000 strong, 200 had been
sent away to India, while of the remainder more than half had only seen
twelve months' service, and a large percentage were either under
eighteen years of age or were "special enlistments," namely, below the
minimum standard of height.

Such a battalion compared very unfavourably with the majority of
Volunteer regiments,--those of the Stafford Brigade, for instance,--the
average service of the men in those regiments being over five years, and
the average age twenty-seven years. British officers had long ago
foreseen all these defects, and many others, yet they had preserved an
enforced silence. They themselves were very inefficiently trained in
manoeuvring, for, with one or two exceptions, there were no stations in
the kingdom where forces were sufficiently numerous to give the majority
of the superior officers practice in handling combined bodies of troops.

Thus in practical experience in the field they were far behind both
French and Russians, and it was this very serious deficiency that now
became everywhere apparent.

British troops, fighting valiantly, struggled to protect their native
land, which they determined should never fall under the thrall of the
invader. But alas! their resistance, though stubborn and formidable, was
nevertheless futile. Time after time the lines of defence were broken.

The Russian Eagle spread his black wings to the sun, and with joyous
shouts the dense grey white masses of the enemy marched on over the
dusty Sussex roads northward towards the Thames.

After the battle of Horsham, the gigantic right column of the invaders,
consisting mostly of French troops, followed up the defenders to
Guildford and Dorking, preparatory to an attack upon London; while the
left column, numbering 150,000 French and Russians of all arms, pushed
on through Alfold to Haslemere, then through Farnham and Odiham to
Swallowfield, all of which towns they sacked and burned, the terrified
inhabitants being treated with scant mercy. As the majority of the
defenders were massed in Kent, South Surrey, and Sussex, the enemy
advanced practically unmolested, and at sunrise one morning a terrible
panic was created in Reading by the sudden descent upon the town of a
great advance guard of 10,000 Russians.

The people were appalled. They could offer no resistance against the
cavalry, who, tearing along the straight high road from Swallowfield,
swept down upon them. Along this road the whole gigantic force was
moving, and the Cossack skirmishers, spurring on across the town, passed
away through the Railway Works, and halted at the bridge that spans the
Thames at Caversham. They occupied it at once, in order to prevent it
being blown up before the main body arrived, and a brisk fight ensued
with the small body of defenders that had still remained at the Brigade
depot on the Purley Road.

Meanwhile, as the French and Russian advance guard came along, they
devastated the land with fire and sword. The farms along the road were
searched, and afterwards set on fire, while not a house at Three Mile
Cross escaped. Entering the town from Whitley Hill, the great mass of
troops, working in extended order, came slowly on, and, followed by
140,000 of the main body and 1000 guns, carried everything before them.

No power could stem the advancing tide of the Muscovite legions, and as
they poured into the town in dense compact bodies, hundreds of
townspeople were shot down ruthlessly, merely because they attempted to
defend their homes. From the Avenue Works away to the Cemetery, and from
the Railway Station to Leighton Park, the streets swarmed with soldiers
of the Tsar, who entered almost every house in search of plunder, and
fired out of sheer delight in bloodshed upon hundreds who were flying
for their lives.

Men, women, even children, were slaughtered. The massacre was
frightful. Neither life nor property was respected; in every
thoroughfare brutal outrages and murders were committed, and English
homes were rendered desolate.

Almost the first buildings attacked were the great factories of Messrs.
Huntley & Palmer, whose 3000 hands were now, alas! idle owing to the
famine. The stores were searched for biscuits, and afterwards the whole
factory was promptly set on fire. The Great Western, Queen's, and George
Hotels were searched from garret to cellar, and the wines and beer found
in the latter were drunk in the streets. With the scant provisions
found, several of the regiments made merry during the morning, while
others pursued their devastating work. The banks were looted, St.
Mary's, Greyfriars', and St. Lawrence's Churches were burned, and Sutton
& Sons' buildings and the Railway Works shared the same fate, while out
in the direction of Prospect Hill Park all the houses were sacked, and
those occupants who remained to guard their household treasures were put
to the sword.

Everywhere the invaders displayed the most fiendish brutality, and the
small force of British troops who had engaged the Russian advance guard
were, after a most fiercely contested struggle, completely annihilated,
not, however, before they had successfully placed charges of gun-cotton
under the bridge and blown it up, together with a number of Cossacks who
had taken possession of it.

This, however, only checked the enemy's progress temporarily, for the
right flank crossed at Sonning, and as the main body had with them
several pontoon sections, by noon the pontoons were in position, and the
long line of cavalry, infantry, artillery, and engineers, leaving behind
Reading, now in flames, crossed the Thames and wound away along the road
to Banbury, which quaint old town, immortalised in nursery rhyme, they
sacked and burned, destroying the historic Cross, and regaling
themselves upon the ale found in the cellars of the inns, the Red and
White Lions. This done, they again continued their march, practically
unmolested; while Oxford was also entered and sacked.

True, scouts reported strong forces of the defenders advancing across
from Market Harborough, Kettering, and Oundle, and once or twice British
outposts had sharp encounters with the Russians along the hills between
Ladbrooke and Daventry, resulting in serious losses on both sides;
nevertheless the gigantic force of Russians still proceeded, sweeping
away every obstacle from their path.

On leaving Banbury, the enemy, marching in column of route, took the
road through Stratford-on-Avon to Wootton Wawen, where a halt for
twenty-four hours was made in order to mature plans for an organised
attack on Birmingham. Wootton Hall, after being looted, was made the
headquarters, and from thence was issued an order on the following day
which caused Warwick and Leamington to be swept and burned by the
invaders, who afterwards broke into two divisions. One body, consisting
of 50,000 men, including an advance guard of 5000, took the right-hand
road from Wootton to Birmingham, through Sparkbrook; while the remaining
100,000 bore away to the left through Ullenhall and Holt End to the
extremity of the Hagley Hills, intending to occupy them. They had
already been informed that strong defences had been established at
King's Norton, in the immediate vicinity, and knew that severe fighting
must inevitably ensue; therefore they lost no time in establishing
themselves along the high ground between Redditch and Barnt Green, in a
position commanding the two main roads south from Dudley and Birmingham.

That a most desperate stand would be made for the defence of the
Metropolis of the Midlands the Russian commander was well aware. After
the long march his troops were jaded, so, bivouacing in Hewell Park, he
awaited for nearly two days the reports of his spies. These were not so
reassuring as he had anticipated, for it appeared that the high ground
south of the city, notably at King's Norton, Northfield, Harborne,
Edgbaston, and along the Hagley Road, was occupied by strong bodies of
troops and a large number of guns, and that every preparation had been
made for a stubborn resistance.

It also appeared that at the entrance to the city at Sparkbrook, which
road had been taken by the right column, very little resistance was
likely to be offered.

That the positions occupied by the defenders had been very carefully
chosen as the most advantageous the Russian commander was bound to
admit, and although he possessed such a large body of men it would
require considerable tactical skill to dislodge the defenders in order
to prevent them covering with their guns the country over which the
Russian division, taking the right-hand roads, must travel.

[Illustration: THE BATTLEFIELD OF BIRMINGHAM.]

During that day an encounter of a most fierce description occurred
between hostile reconnoitring parties on the road between Bromsgrove
Lickey and Northfield. The road gradually ascended with a walled-in
plantation on either side, and the enemy were proceeding at a
comfortable pace when suddenly a number of rifles rattled out
simultaneously, and then it was discovered that the wall had been
loopholed, and that the British were pouring upon them a deadly hail
from which there was no shelter. The walls bristled with rifles, and
from them came a storm of bullets that killed and wounded dozens of the
invaders.

The latter, however, showed considerable daring, for while the magazine
rifles poured forth their deadly shower, they rallied and charged up the
hill in the face of the fearful odds against them. For ten minutes or
perhaps a quarter of an hour the fighting was a desperate hand-to-hand
one, the enemy entering the plantation with a dash that surprised the
defenders. Gradually, although outnumbered by the Russians, the British
at length, by dint of the most strenuous effort and hard fighting,
succeeded in inflicting frightful loss upon the invaders, and the
latter, after a most desperate stand, eventually retreated in confusion
down into the valley, leaving nearly two-thirds of the party dead or
dying.

The British, whose losses were very small, had shown the invaders that
they meant to defend Birmingham, and that every inch of ground they
gained would have to be won by sheer fighting. An hour later another
fierce encounter occurred in the same neighbourhood, and of the 4000
Russians who had advanced along that road not 900 returned to the main
body, such havoc the British Maxims caused; while at the same time a
further disaster occurred to the enemy in another direction, for away at
Tanworth their outposts had been completely annihilated, those who were
not killed being taken prisoners by the 3rd South Staffordshire
Volunteers, who, under Colonel E. Nayler, acted with conspicuous
bravery. In every direction the enemy's outposts and advance guards were
being harassed, cut up, and hurled back in disorder with heavy loss,
therefore the Russian commander decided that a sudden and rapid movement
forward in order to effect a junction with his right column was the only
means by which the position could be carried.

In the meantime events were occurring rapidly all over the country south
of the city. The commander of the Russian left column, deciding to
commence the attack forthwith, moved on his forces just before midnight
in order to commence the onslaught before daybreak, knowing the British
forces always relieve their outposts at that time. Again, it was
necessary to advance under cover of darkness in order to prevent the
defenders' artillery, which now commanded the road between Alcester and
Moseley, firing upon them.

Having received a message from the right column stating that their
advance guard had pushed on to Olton End with outposts at Sheldon and
Yardley, and announcing their intention of advancing through Sparkbrook
upon the city before dawn, the commanding officer, leaving some
artillery at Barnt Green, and sending on cavalry to Stourbridge and
Cradley to turn the English flank at Halesowen, manoeuvred rapidly,
bringing the main body of cavalry and infantry back to Alvechurch,
thence across to Weatheroak, and then striking due north, again marched
by the three roads leading to King's Norton.

The high ground here he knew was strongly defended, and it was about a
quarter to two o'clock when the British, by means of their
search-lights, discovered the great dark masses advancing upon them.
Quickly their guns opened fire, and the sullen booming of cannon was
answered by the Russian battery near Barnt Green. Over Birmingham the
noise was heard, and had volumes of terrible significance for the
turbulent crowds who filled the broad thoroughfares. The search-lights
used by both invaders and defenders turned night into day, and the
battle proceeded.

The enemy had carefully prepared their plans, for almost at the same
moment that they assaulted the position at King's Norton, a battery of
Russian artillery opened a terrible fire from the hill at Tanner's
Green, while the attacking column extended their right across to
Colebrook Hall, with intent to push across to Moseley Station, and thus
gain the top of the ridge of the ground in the rear of the British
positions, and so hem in the British force and allow the right column to
advance through Small Heath and Sparkbrook unchecked.

These simultaneous attacks met in the valley separating the parallel
ridges held by the Russians and British, and the fighting became at once
fierce and stubborn. A furious infantry fire raged for over an hour in
the valley between the excellent position held by the defenders at
King's Norton and the lower wooded ridge occupied by the Russians, who
had succeeded in capturing half a British battery who held it. Owing to
the bareness of the <DW72>, the Russians went down into battle without
cover, cut up terribly by the British infantry fire, and by the shell
fire from the King's Norton batteries. From the British trenches between
Broad Meadow and Moundsley Hall a galling fire was poured, and Russian
infantry fell in hundreds over the undulating fields between the high
road to Alcester and the Blithe River.

From a ridge on the Stratford Road, near Monkspath Street, heavy Russian
artillery opened fire just before dawn, and played terrible havoc with
the British guns, which on the sky-line opposite afforded a mark. As
time crept on there was no cessation in the thunder on either side,
while away along the valleys a most bloody encounter was in progress.
The whole stretch of country was one huge battlefield. British and
Russians fell in hundreds, nay, in thousands.

The losses on every side were appalling; the fortune of war trembled in
the balance.




CHAPTER XIX.

FALL OF BIRMINGHAM.


The battle outside Birmingham was long, fierce, and furious. No more
desperately contested engagement had ever occurred in the history of the
British Empire. From the very first moment of the fight it was apparent
that the struggle would be a fearful one, both sides possessing
advantages; the British by reason of the magnificent defensive positions
they occupied, and the Russians by reason of their overwhelming numbers.
Against a defending force of 50,000 of all arms, 150,000 invaders--the
majority of whom were Russians--were now fighting, and the combat was
necessarily long and deadly. British Volunteers were conspicuous
everywhere by their bravery; the Canadians rendered most valuable
assistance, firing from time to time with excellent precision, and
holding their position with splendid courage; while the Irish Brigade,
who had moved rapidly from King's Cliffe by train and road, and had
arrived in time, now held their own in a position close to Kingsheath
House.

Many of the principal buildings in Birmingham had during the past day or
two been converted into hospitals, amongst others the Post Office, where
the trained nurses received very valuable assistance from the female
clerks. A train full of British wounded was captured early in the
evening at Barnt Green. It contained regular troops and civilians from
the Stratford force which had fallen back to Alcester, and the train
had been sent on from there in the hope that it would get through before
the enemy were able to cut the line. This, however, was not
accomplished, for the Russians inhumanely turned out the wounded and
filled the train with their own troops and ammunition. Then, under the
guidance of a Birmingham railway man of French nationality who had been
acting as spy, the train proceeded to New Street Station. It was
impossible for the officials at the station to cope with the enemy, for
they had only expected their own wounded, or they would, of course, have
wrecked the train by altering the points before it arrived in the
station. The Russians therefore detrained, and, led by their spy, made a
dash along the subway leading to the lifts ascending to the Post Office.
These were secured, and the Office was soon captured by the Russians,
who not only thereby obtained a footing in the very centre of the town
from which there was not much chance of dislodging them before
Birmingham fell, but they had also obtained possession of the most
important telegraph centre for the North and Midland districts of
England.

Before the first flush of dawn the whole of the country from Kings
Norton right across to Solihull was one huge battlefield, and when the
sun rose, bright and glorious, its rays were obscured by the clouds of
smoke which hung like a funeral pall over hill and dale. For a long
period the principal Russian battery on the Stratford Road was short of
ammunition, and, seeing this, the strong British battery at Northfield
moved quickly up into a commanding position at Drake's Cross, not,
however, before it had been considerably weakened by the Russian fire
from Bromsgrove Lickey. During this time, however, detachments of
Canadian marksmen had been detailed with no other purpose than to sweep
the Russian road at the exposed points of its course, and to fire at
everything and everybody exposed on the ridge. This was most effective,
and for quite half an hour prevented any supply of ammunition reaching
the enemy, thus giving the British battery an opportunity to establish
itself. At length, however, both batteries of defenders opened fire
simultaneously upon the Russian guns, and so thickly fell the shots,
that although ammunition had by this time been brought up, the enemy's
power in that quarter was completely broken.

From that time the fierce struggle was confined to cavalry and infantry.
Troops of Cossacks, sweeping up the banks of the Arrow, encountered
British Hussars and cut into them with frightful effect. The defenders,
fighting hard as the day wore on, hindered the enemy from gaining any
material advantage, though the latter forced the outer line of the
British shelter trenches on the <DW72>s below the position of King's
Norton. The Canadians had laid mines in front of their trenches, which
were exploded just as the head of the Russian assaulting parties were
massed above them, and large numbers of the Tsar's infantry were blown
into atoms.

Bullets were singing along the valleys like swarms of angry wasps, and
the Russian losses in every direction were enormous.

Hour after hour the fighting continued. The British held good positions,
with an inner line of defence across from Selly Oak, Harborne, and
Edgbaston, to the high crest on the Hagley Road, close to the Fountain,
while the Russians swarmed over the country in overwhelming numbers. The
frightful losses the latter were sustaining by reason of the defenders'
artillery fire did not, however, disconcert them. But for the huge right
column of invaders advancing on Birmingham by way of Acock's Green, it
seemed an even match, yet as afternoon passed the firing in the valley
swelled in volume, and the mad clamour of battle still surged up into
the blue cloudless heavens.

The enemy could see on the sky-line the British reinforcements as they
came up from Halesowen by the road close to their battery on the bare
spot near the edge of their right flank, and it was decided at four
o'clock to deliver a counter flank attack on the left edge of the
British position, simultaneously with a renewed strenuous assault by the
tirailleurs from below. Soon this desperate manoeuvre was commenced, and
although the marching ground was good, the British guns swept them with
their terrible fire, and hundreds of the Tsar's soldiers dyed the
meadows with their blood.

It was a fierce, mad dash. The British attacked vigorously on every
side, fought bravely, straining every nerve to repulse their foe.

The battle had been the most fiercely contested of any during the
struggle, and in this desperate assault on King's Norton the Russians
had suffered appalling losses. The valleys and <DW72>s were strewn with
dead and dying, and a bullet had struck the British commander, mortally
wounding him. As he was borne away to the ambulance waggon, the last
words on that noble soldier's lips were a fervent wish for good fortune
to the arms of the Queen he had served so well.

But the British were, alas! outnumbered, and at last retreating in
disorder, were followed over the hills to Halesowen and utterly routed,
while the main body of the enemy marching up the Bristol and Pershore
Roads, extended their left across to Harborne and Edgbaston. Meanwhile,
however, the guns placed on the edge of the city along the Hagley Road
near the Fountain, and in Beech Lane close to the Talbot Inn, as well as
the Volunteer batteries near St. Augustine's Church and Westfield Road,
opened fire upon the advancing legions. The two lower roads taken by the
enemy were well commanded by the British guns, and the Volunteers, with
the Canadians and Irish, again rendered most valuable assistance,
everywhere displaying cool and conspicuous courage. The walls of the new
villas along the Hagley Road, Portland Road, and Beech Lane had been
placed in a state of hasty defence, and rifles bristled everywhere, but
as the sun sank behind the long range of purple hills the fight was in
the balance. The British, as they stood, could almost keep back the foe,
but, alas! not quite.

There was soon a concentric rush for the hill, and as the cannons
thundered and rifles rattled, hundreds of the grey-coats fell back and
rolled down the steep <DW72> dead and dying, but the others pushed on in
face of the frowning defences, used their bayonets with desperate
energy, and a few minutes later loud shouts in Russian told that the
ridge had been cleared and the position won. The battle had been long
and terrible; the carnage awful!

The British, making a last desperate stand, fought a fierce hand-to-hand
struggle, but ere long half their number lay helpless in the newly-made
suburban roads, and the remainder were compelled to leave their guns in
possession of the enemy and fly north to Sandwell to save themselves.
Then, as they fled, the Russians turned the British guns near St.
Augustine's upon them, causing havoc in their rear.

The shattered left column of the enemy, having at length broken down the
British defences, raised loud victorious yells, and, after reorganising,
marched down the Hagley Road upon the city, fighting from house to house
the whole way. The gardens in front of these houses, however, aided the
defenders greatly in checking the advance.

The sacrifice of human life during those hours from daybreak to sundown
had been frightful. The whole country, from Great Packington to
Halesowen, was strewn with blood-smeared corpses.

Having regard to the fact that the defending force consisted of only
50,000 men against 100,000 Russians, the losses inflicted upon the
latter spoke volumes for British pluck and military skill. Upon the
field 10,000 Russians lay dead, 30,000 were wounded, and 2000 were
prisoners, while the defenders' total loss in killed and wounded only
amounted to 20,000.

Indeed, had it not been for the reinforcements, numbering 50,000, from
the right column, which were by this time coming up with all speed from
Acock's Green, the Russians, in their terribly jaded and demoralised
state, could not have marched upon the city. As it was, however, the
occupation commenced as night drew on; the fighting that followed being
principally done by the reinforcements.

Leaving no fewer than 42,000 men dead, wounded, and captured, the
invaders pushed on into Birmingham. Though the citizens' losses had
already been terrific, nevertheless they found that they were still
determined to hold out. In all the principal roads leading into the
city barricades had been formed, and behind them were bands of desperate
men, well equipped, and prepared to fight on to the bitter end.

The first of these in the Hagley Road had been constructed at the
junction of Monument Road, and as the skirmishers and advance guard
approached, offered a most desperate resistance. In addition to a
vigorous rifle fire that poured from the improvised defences, three
Maxims were brought into play from the roofs of large houses, and these,
commanding the whole road as far as its junction with Beech Lane,
literally mowed down the enemy as they approached. Time after time the
Russians rushed upon the defenders' position, only to be hurled back
again by the leaden hail, which fell so thickly that it was impossible
for any body of troops to withstand it. By this the invaders' advance
was temporarily checked, but it was not long before they established a
battery at the corner of Norfolk Road, and poured shell upon the
barricade with frightful effect. Quickly the guns were silenced, and the
Russians at last breaking down the barrier, engaged in a conflict at
close quarters with the defenders.

The road along to Five Ways was desperately contested. The slaughter on
both sides was awful, for a detachment of Russians coming up the
Harborne Road had been utterly annihilated and swept away by the rifle
fire of defenders concealed behind loopholed walls. At Five Ways the
entrance to each of the five broad converging thoroughfares had been
strongly barricaded, and as the enemy pressed forward the British
machine guns established there caused terrible havoc. Behind those
barricades men of Birmingham of every class, armed with all sorts of
guns, hastily obtained from Kynoch's and other factories, struggled for
the defence of their homes and loved ones, working with a dash and
energy that greatly disconcerted the enemy, who had imagined that, in
view of their victory in the battle, little resistance would be offered.

In the darkness that had now fallen the scenes in the streets were
frightful. The only light was the flash from gun-muzzles and the glare
of flames consuming private houses and public buildings. The civilian
defenders, reinforced by Regular soldiers, Militia, and Volunteers, had
made such excellent preparations for defence, and offered such strenuous
opposition, that almost every foot the Russians gained in the direction
of the centre of the city was fought for hand to hand. Both right and
left Russian columns were now advancing up the Coventry, Stratford,
Moseley, Pershore, and Bristol Roads, and in each of those thoroughfares
the barricades were strongly constructed, and, being armed with Maxims,
wrought frightful execution.

Gradually, however, one after another of these defences fell by reason
of the organised attacks by such superior numbers, and the Russians
marched on, killing with bayonet and sword.

In the city, as the night passed, the fighting in the streets everywhere
was of the fiercest and most sanguinary description. In Corporation
Street a huge barricade with machine guns had been constructed opposite
the Victoria Law Courts, and, assisted by 200 Volunteers, who, inside
the latter building, fired from the windows, the enemy were held in
check for several hours.

Time after time shells fell from the Russian guns in the midst of the
defenders, and, bursting, decimated them in a horrible manner; yet
through the long close night there was never a lack of brave men to step
into the breach and take up the arms of their dead comrades. Indeed, it
was only when the enemy succeeded in setting fire to the Courts, and
compelling the defenders to cease their vigorous rifle fire from the
windows, that the position was won; and not until hundreds of Russians
lay dead or dying in the street.

In New Street the Irish Volunteers distinguished themselves
conspicuously. After the retreat they had been withdrawn with the
Canadians into the city, and, waiting in the side thoroughfares at the
opposite end of New Street, held themselves in readiness. Suddenly, as
the enemy rushed along in their direction, an order was given, and they
formed up, and stretching across the street, met them with volley after
volley of steady firing; then, rushing onward with fixed bayonets,
charged almost before the Russians were aware of their presence.

Without a thought of his own personal safety, every Irishman cast
himself into the thick of the fray, and, backed by a strong body of
Canadians and fusiliers, they succeeded in cutting their way completely
into the invaders, and driving them back into Corporation Street, where
they were forced right under the fire of four Maxims that had just at
that moment been brought into position outside the Exchange.

Suddenly these guns rattled out simultaneously, and the Russians, unable
to advance, and standing at the head of the long broad thoroughfare,
were swept down with awful swiftness and with scarcely any resistance.
So sudden had been their fate, that of a force over two thousand strong,
not more than a dozen escaped, although the defenders were taken in rear
by the force of 500 Russians who had occupied the Post Office on the
previous night.

From Corporation Street a brilliant, ruddy glow suffused the sky, as
both the Law Courts and the Grand Theatre were in flames, while St.
Mary's Church and the Market Hall had also been fired by incendiaries.

In the panic and confusion, conflagrations were breaking out everywhere,
flames bursting forth from several fine shops in New Street which had
already been sacked and wrecked. Maddened by their success, by the
thirst for the blood of their enemies, and the rash deeds of
incendiaries, the Muscovite legions spread over the whole city, and
outrage and murder were common everywhere.

Away up Great Hampton Street and Hockley Hill the jewellery factories
were looted, and hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of gems and gold
were carried off, while the Mint was entered, afterwards being burned
because only copper coins were found there, and the pictures in the Art
Gallery were wantonly slashed by sabres and bayonets.

The scenes on that memorable night were awful. Birmingham, one of the
most wealthy cities in the kingdom, fell at last, after a most stubborn
resistance, for just before day broke the overwhelming forces of Russia
occupying the streets commenced to drive out the defenders, and shoot
down those who turned to resist. From Bordesley to Handsworth, and from
Smethwick to Aston, the city was in the hands of the enemy. The banks in
New Street were broken open, and the gold stuffed into the pockets of
the uncouth dwellers on the Don and the Volga, Chamberlain's Memorial
was wrecked, and Queen's College occupied by infantry. Cossack officers
established themselves in the Grand and Queen's Hotels, and their men
were billeted at the Midland, Union, Conservative, and other Clubs, and
at many minor hotels and buildings.

Before the dawn had spread, whole rows of shops were burning, their
brilliant glare illuminating the streets that ran with blood. It was a
fearful scene of death and desolation.

The majority of the citizens had fled, leaving everything in the hands
of the enemy, who still continued their work of pillage. In the streets
the bodies of 10,000 Russians and 3000 British lay unheeded, while no
fewer than 9000 of the enemy's infantry had been wounded.

The headquarters of the Russian army had at last been established in a
British city, for over the great Council House there now lazily flapped
in the fresh morning breeze the great yellow-and-black flag of the Tsar
Alexander.

And the Russian General, finding he had lost the enormous force of
61,000 men, spent the grey hours of dawn in nervous anxiousness, pacing
the room in which he had installed himself, contemplating the frightful
disaster, and undecided how next to act.

An incident illustrative of the fierceness of the fight outside the city
was published in the _Times_ several days later. It was an extract from
a private letter written by Lieut. J. G. Morris of the 3rd Battalion of
the York and Lancaster Regiment, and was as follows:--

"The sun that day was blazing and merciless. Throughout the morning our
battalion had lost heavily in the valley, when suddenly at about twelve
o'clock the enemy apparently received reinforcements, and we were then
driven back upon Weatheroak by sheer force of numbers, and afterwards
again fell further back towards our position on the high ground in
Hagley Road.

[Illustration: BIRMINGHAM OCCUPIED BY THE RUSSIANS.]

"In this hasty retreat I found myself with a sergeant and eighteen men
pursued by a large skirmishing party of Russians. All we could do was to
fly before them. This we did, until at length, turning into Beech Lane,
we found ourselves before a small, low-built ancient hostelry, the
King's Head Inn, with a dilapidated and somewhat crude counterfeit
presentment of King George II. outside. The place was unoccupied, and I
decided immediately to enter it. I could count on every one of my men;
therefore very soon we were inside, and had barricaded the little place.
Scarcely had we accomplished this when the first shots rang out, and in
a few moments the space outside where the cross-roads meet literally
swarmed with Russians, who quickly extended, and, seeking cover at the
junction of each of the five roads, commenced a terrific fusillade. The
windows from which we fired were smashed, the woodwork splintered
everywhere, and so thickly came the bullets that my men had to exercise
the utmost caution in concealing themselves while firing.

"In a quarter of an hour one man had been struck and lay dead by my
side, while at the same time the terrible truth suddenly dawned upon me
that our ammunition could not last out. Regulating the firing, I rushed
to one of the back windows that commanded the valley down to Harborne,
and saw advancing along the road in our direction, and raising a cloud
of dust, about a thousand Russian cavalry and infantry.

"Back again to the front room I dashed, just in time to witness the
enemy make a wild rush towards us. Our slackened fire had deceived them,
and as the storming party dashed forward, they were met by vigorous
volleys from our magazine rifles, which knocked over dozens, and
compelled the remainder to again retire.

"Again the enemy made a desperate onslaught, and again we succeeded in
hurling them back, and stretching dead a dozen or more. Meanwhile the
great force of Russians was moving slowly up the hill, and I knew that
to hold the place much longer would be impossible. From the rear of the
building a vigorous attack had now commenced, and moving more men round
to the rear, so that our fire would command the sloping approach to the
house, I gave an order to fire steadily. A moment later my sergeant and
two other men had been severely wounded, and although the former had had
his arm broken, and was near fainting from loss of blood, nevertheless
he kept up, resting his rifle-barrel upon the shattered window-ledge,
and pouring out the deadly contents of his magazine.

"A few minutes afterwards a bullet shattered my left hand, and the man
who crouched next to me under the window was a second later shot through
the heart, and fell back dead among the disordered furniture.

"Still not a man hesitated, not a word of despair was uttered. We all
knew that death stared us in the face, and that to face it bravely was a
Briton's duty. Only once I shouted above the din: 'Do your best, boys!
Remember we we are all Britons, and those vermin outside have wrecked
our homes and killed those we love. Let's have our revenge, even if we
die for it!'

"'We'll stick to 'em till the very last, sir, never fear,' cheerily
replied one young fellow as he reloaded his gun; but alas! ere he could
raise it to fire, a bullet struck him in the throat. He staggered back,
and a few moments later was a corpse.

"Undaunted, however, my men determined to sell their lives as dearly as
possible, and continued their fire, time after time repelling the
attack, and sweeping away the grey-coats as they emerged from behind the
low walls.

"Three more men had fallen in as many seconds, and another, staggering
back against the wall, held his hand to his breast, where he had
received a terrible and mortal wound. Our situation at that moment was
most critical. Only two rounds remained to each of my nine brave
fellows, yet not a man wavered.

"Looking, I saw in the fading twilight the dark masses of the enemy
moving up the steep road, and at that moment a round was fired with
effect upon those who had surrounded us. One more round only remained.
Then we meant to die fighting. Blinding smoke suddenly filled the
half-wrecked room, and we knew that the enemy had succeeded in setting
fire to the taproom underneath!

"I stepped forward, and shouted for the last time the order to my brave
comrades to fire. Nine rifles rang out simultaneously; but I had, I
suppose, showed myself imprudently, for at the same second I felt a
sharp twinge in the shoulder, and knew that I had been struck. The rest
was all a blank.

"When I regained my senses I found myself lying in Sandwell Hall, with
doctors bandaging my wounds, and then I learned that we had been rescued
just in time, and that my nine comrades had all escaped the fate they
had faced with dogged disregard for their own safety, and such noble
devotion to their Queen."

It was a black day for Britain. During the long hours of that fierce,
mad struggle many Victoria Crosses were earned, but the majority of
those who performed deeds worthy of such decoration, alas! fell to the
earth, dead.




CHAPTER XX.

OUR REVENGE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.


Many important events had occurred in the Mediterranean since the
outbreak of hostilities. At the moment of the sudden Declaration of War,
the ships forming the British Mediterranean Squadron were at Larnaka,
Cyprus, and on receipt of the alarming intelligence, the Admiral sailed
immediately for Malta. On arrival there, he heard that a strong force of
French vessels had been despatched to Gibraltar for the purpose of
preventing any British ships from getting out of the Mediterranean in
order to strengthen the Channel Squadron. Nevertheless he waited for
some days at Malta, in hourly expectation of instructions, which came at
length about two o'clock one morning, and an hour later the Squadron
sailed westward for an unknown destination.

Our Fleet in those waters was notoriously inadequate in comparison with
those of France and Russia. It consisted of three of the battleships
constructed under the 1894 programme, the _Jupiter_, _Caesar_, and
_Victorious_, with the cruisers _Diana_ and _Dido_; the ironclads
_Collingwood_, _Dreadnought_, _Hood_, _Inflexible_, _Nile_, _Ramillies_,
_Repulse_, _Sans Pareil_, _Trafalgar_, _Magnificent_, _Empress of
India_, and _Revenge_; the cruisers _Arethusa_, _Edgar_, _Fearless_,
_Hawke_, _Scout_, _Orlando_, _Undaunted_; the torpedo ram _Polyphemus_;
the torpedo gun-vessel _Sandfly_; the sloops _Dolphin_, _Gannet_,
_Melita_, and _Bramble_; and the despatch vessel _Surprise_, with
twenty-two torpedo boats and six destroyers.

The information received by our Fleet at Malta was to the effect that
the French force at Gibraltar was so strong that a successful attack was
out of the question; while the Russian Mediterranean and Black Sea
Fleets, the strength of which was considerable, were also known to be
approaching for the purpose of co-operating with the French.

Notwithstanding the addition of three new battleships and two new
cruisers to our force in the Mediterranean, the utter inadequacy of our
Navy was still very apparent. For years the British public had demanded
that a dozen more new battleships should be constructed in case of
casualties, but these demands were unheeded, and during the three years
that had passed we had lost our naval supremacy, for France and Russia
combined were now considerably stronger. France alone had 150 fighting
pennants available along her southern shores, against our 59; and the
Tsar's ships were all strong, well-equipped, and armed with guns of the
latest type.

As was feared from the outset, the Russian Black Sea Fleet had struck
for the Suez Canal, England's highway to the East. Egypt, the Bosphorus,
Gibraltar, and Tripoli in the grasp of the enemy, meant supremacy in the
East, and a situation that would not be tolerated by either Italy or
Austria. Therefore the British Admiral, recognising the seriousness of
the situation, and having received instructions to return home and
assist in the defence of Britain, mustered his forces and cleared for
action. The events that occurred immediately afterwards are best related
in the graphic and interesting narrative which was subsequently written
to a friend by Captain Neville Reed of the great steel battleship
_Ramillies_, and afterwards published, together with the accompanying
sketch, in the _Illustrated London News_, as follows:--

"After leaving Malta, we rounded the Adventure Bank off the Sicilian
coast, and headed due north past Elba and on to the Gulf of Genoa.
From Spezia we received despatches, and after anchoring for
twelve hours,--during which time we were busy completing our
preparations,--sailed at midnight westward. Off St. Tropez, near the
Hyeres Islands, in obedience to signals from the flagship, the _Empress
of India_, the ironclads _Jupiter_, _Sans Pareil_, _Repulse_, with the
cruisers _Edgar_, _Dido_, _Diana_, _Orlando_, _Undaunted_, and _Scout_,
the sloop _Gannet_, and five torpedo boats, detached themselves from the
Squadron, and after exchanging further signals, bore away due south.
Giving the shore a wide offing, we steamed along throughout the
afternoon. The Mediterranean had not yet been the scene of any bloody or
fatal conflict, but as we cut our way through the calm sunlit waters
with a brilliant cerulean sky above, the contrast between our bright and
lovely surroundings and the terrible realities of the situation during
those breathless hours of suspense still dwells distinctly in my memory.

"It was our duty to fight the enemy, to beat him, and to pass through
the Straits of Gibraltar and help our comrades at home. Every man,
although totally unaware of his present destination, felt that at last
the moment had come when the supreme ambition of his life was to be
realised, and he was to strike a blow for his country's honour.

"Apparently our Admiral was in no hurry. He no doubt was awaiting
events, for at sunset we lay-to about thirty miles south of La Ciotat,
and spent the calm bright night restlessly anxious and keeping a sharp
lookout for the enemy. There was a hush of expectation over the ship,
and scarcely a sound broke the quiet save the lapping of the water
against the smooth sides of the ironclad, and no sign of force except
the swish of the waves falling on either side of the formidable and
deadly ram.

"Just after seven bells in the morning watch, however, we resumed our
voyage, and turning, went north again. Then, for the first time, we knew
the Admiral's intentions. An ultimatum had already been given. _We were
to bombard Marseilles!_

"Three hours later we came within view of the city. Seen from the sea it
has a certain amount of picturesqueness. In the foreground there is the
harbour, with a barren group of islands at its entrance, and behind
masses of yellow houses covering an extensive valley, and white villas
dotted over a semicircle of green hills stretching in the rear.
Prominent in the landscape is the church of Notre Dame de la Garde,
perched on the eminence on the right; while on the left there stands on
an island the Chateau d'If, rendered immortal by the adventures of Monte
Cristo; and behind, on the broad Quai de la Joliette, rises the fine
Cathedral, built in alternate courses of black and white stone. It is a
handsome and wealthy city, with its fine shady boulevard, the Cannebiere
running through its centre from the Arc de Triomphe right down to the
old port whence the mail steamers depart. This city, teeming with life,
it was our duty to lay in ruins!

"Knowing how strongly fortified it was, that upon each of those hills
were great batteries ready at a given signal to pour out their deadly
hail, and that under the blue waters were mines which might be exploded
from the shore at any moment, we made preparations for counter-mining,
and then cautiously approached within range. Suddenly, however, having
got into position and laid our guns, we received the anxiously expected
order, and a few moments later opened a terrific and almost simultaneous
fire.

"Through my glass I could clearly distinguish the terrible confusion
being caused in the streets as our shells fell and burst on the Quai de
la Joliette, in the Cannebiere, and the Boulevard de l'Empereur.

"The first taste of our guns had produced a terrible panic, for a shell
from the _Dreadnought_, lying next to us, had struck the tower of the
Cathedral and brought down a great quantity of masonry, while another
shell from one of our 67-ton guns, bursting in the Palais de Justice
with terrible effect, had ignited it.

"It was our first shot, and the gun had been well sighted; but ere we
fired again such a storm of shell burst upon us that I confess for a
moment I stood in my conning-tower motionless in surprise. On all sides
the French had apparently established batteries. From the great Fort St.
Jean at the entrance to the port, and from the Batterie du Phare on the
opposite side, flame and smoke belched from heavy guns continuously.
From a small battery in the Chateau d'If, from another on the rocky
promontory on the right known as the Edoume, from a number of smaller
ones established on the hills of l'Oriol and the Citadel, as well as
from the great fortress of Notre Dame de la Garde on the highest hill, a
little to the right of the city, there came an incessant thunder, and
dozens of shots ricochetted over the placid water towards us.

"In a few moments, however, my 67-tonners were again adding to the
deafening roar, my ten 6-inch quick-firing guns were sending out their
messengers of death, and my smaller arms, consisting of 3 and
16-pounders, were acting their part in the sudden outburst. We had
attacked the town without intention of investment, but simply to destroy
it, and as the minutes slipped by, and I peered through my glass, I
could see how devastating were our enormous modern shells.

"All our guns were now trained upon the forts, and the bombardment was
most vigorous. The six coast-defence ships, which endeavoured to drive
us off, we quickly put out of action, capturing one, torpedoing two, and
disabling the three others; while up to the present, although a number
of shots from the land batteries had struck us, we sustained no serious
damage.

"We were avenging Hull and Newcastle. Into the panic-stricken town we
were pouring an unceasing storm of shell, which swept away whole streets
of handsome buildings, and killed hundreds of those flying for safety
into the country. Watching, I saw one shot from one of my bow barbette
guns crash into the roof of the fine new Hotel du Louvre, in the
Cannebiere. The French Tricolor on the flagstaff toppled over into the
street, and a second later the clouds of smoke and the debris which shot
up showed plainly the awful results of the bursting shell.

"Time after time my 67-tonners crashed and roared, time after time I
pressed my fingers upon the little knobs in the conning-tower, and huge
projectiles were discharged right into the forts. In conjunction with
the never-ceasing fire of companion ships, we rained iron in a
continuous stream that wrought havoc in the defences and destroyed all
the buildings that offered targets. In an hour the Arsenal behind the
Palais de Justice was laid in ruins, the fine Hotel de Ville was a mere
heap of smouldering debris, the Bourse, and the great Library in the
Boulevard du Musee were half wrecked by shells, and the Custom House,
the Gendarmerie, and the Prefecture were burning furiously. The Chateau
du Phare on the headland at the entrance to the fort was suffering
frightfully, and the shells that had struck the Citadel and the fort of
Notre Dame had been terribly effective. Every part of the city from the
Promenade du Prado to the Botanical Gardens was being swept continuously
by our fire, and from the black smoke curling upward in the sunlight we
knew that many broad handsome streets were in flames. Excited over their
work of revenge, my guns' crews worked on with a contemptuous disregard
for the withering fire being poured upon us from the land. They meant,
they said, to teach the Frenchmen a lesson, and they certainly did.
Around us shots from the batteries fell thickly, sending up huge columns
of water. Suddenly a shell struck the _Ramillies_ forward in front of
the barbette, and burst like the rending of a thundercloud. The deck was
torn up, a dozen men were maimed or killed, poor fellows! but the solid
face of the barbette held its own, and the muzzles of our two great guns
remained untouched.

"Several shots from the Notre Dame Fort and the Endoume Battery then
struck us in quick succession. One was particularly disastrous, for,
crashing into the battery on the port side, it burst, disabling one of
the 6-inch guns, and killing the whole gun's crew in an instant. The
effect was frightful, for the whole space around was wrecked, and not a
man escaped.

"Such are the fortunes of war! A few moments later we turned our heavy
guns upon the Endoume Battery, perched up upon the rocky headland, and
together with the _Empress of India_ and the _Victorious_ thundered
forth our great projectiles upon it in a manner which must have been
terribly disconcerting. The battery replied vigorously at first, but the
_Nile_, noticing the direction in which we had turned our attention,
trained her guns upon the same fort, and let loose a perfect hail of
devastating shell. Without ceasing for a second, we played upon it, and
could distinguish even with the naked eye how completely we were
destroying it, until half an hour later we found that the Frenchmen had
ceased to reply. We had silenced their guns, and, in fact, totally
wrecked the fort.

"Several of our vessels were, however, severely feeling the fire from
the Notre Dame Fortress and that of St. Jean. Nearly one hundred men on
board the _Trafalgar_ had been killed; while two shots, entering one of
the broadside batteries of the flagship, had caused frightful havoc, and
had blown to atoms over forty men and three officers. A torpedo boat
that had approached the French coast-defence ship just before she was
captured had been sunk by a shot, but the crew were fortunately all
rescued, after much difficulty, by the sloop _Dolphin_, which had
severely suffered herself from the vigorous fire from the Batterie du
Phare. The funnel of the _Nile_ had been carried away by a shot from the
Citadel, while among the more conspicuous British losses was a serious
catastrophe which had occurred on board the _Hood_ by the premature
explosion of a torpedo, by which a sub-lieutenant and thirty-three men
were launched into eternity, and sixteen men very severely wounded. The
engines of the _Arethusa_ were also broken.

"The smoke rising from the bombarded city increased every moment in
density, and even in the daylight we could distinguish the flames. The
centre of Marseilles was burning furiously, and the fire was now
spreading unchecked. One of our objects had been to destroy the immense
quantity of war stores, and in this we were entirely successful. We had
turned our united efforts upon the Fort St. Jean down at the harbour
entrance and that of Notre Dame high on the hill. Pounding away at
these, time slipped by until the sun sank in a blaze of crimson and
gold. Both forts made a gallant defence, but each of our shots went
home, and through my glasses I watched the awful result. Suddenly a
terrific report caused the whole city to tremble. One of our shots had
apparently entered the powder magazine in the Fort St. Jean, and it had
blown up, producing an appalling catastrophe from which the fortress
could never recover.

[Illustration: BOMBARDMENT OF MARSEILLES BY THE BRITISH:
"ONE OF OUR SHELLS HAD ENTERED THE POWDER MAGAZINE OF FORT ST. JEAN."]

"By this time the whole of the shipping in the docks was burning
furiously, and the congested part of the city lying between the port and
the Lyons Railway Station was like a huge furnace. The sight was one of
terrible grandeur.

"Presently, just as the sun sank behind the grey night clouds, we ceased
fire, and then gazed with calm satisfaction upon the result of our
bombardment. We had treated a French city in the same manner as the
French and Russians had treated our own homes, and we could look upon
this scene of destruction and death without a pang of remorse. But that
was not all. When our guns were silent we could distinctly hear vigorous
rifle firing at the back of the city. Then we knew the truth.

"While we had been attacking Marseilles from the sea, the Italians, who
a week before had crossed the frontier, and with the Germans occupied
Lyons, had co-operated with us on land, and the terror-stricken
Marseillais, hemmed in by fire and bullets on either side, had been
swept away in thousands.

"The scenes in the streets were, we afterwards learnt, awful; and
although the garrison offered a desperate resistance to the Italians
along the valley near the Chateau des Fleurs, most of them were killed,
and nearly three thousand of their number taken prisoners. But the
Italians were unable to enter Marseilles themselves, as, long before
they had succeeded in breaking up the land defences, we had set the
place on fire, and now, as night fell, the great city was one mass of
flames, the lurid light from which illuminated sky and sea with a bright
red glare."

       *       *       *       *       *

The blazing African sun was fading, flooding the calm sapphire
Mediterranean with its blood-red afterglow. The air was oppressive, the
wind blew hot from the desert, and shoals of tiny green birds were
chattering before roosting in the oasis of tall date palms that cast
long shadows over the sun-baked stones of the Place du Gouvernement at
Algiers. Everything was of a dazzling whiteness, relieved only by the
blue sky and sea. The broad, handsome Square was almost deserted, the
jalousies of the European houses were still closed, and although a few
people were sipping absinthe at the cafes, the siesta was not yet over.

At one corner of the Square the Mosque of Djama-el-Djedid, with its dome
and minarets, stood out intensely white against the bright, cloudless
sky, its spotless cleanliness causing the white-washed houses of
Europeans to appear yellow and dingy; and as the _mueddin_ stood on one
of the minarets with arms uplifted, calling the Faithful to prayer, idle
Moors and Arabs, who had been lying asleep in the shadow during the
afternoon, rose quickly, rearranged their burnouses, and entered the
Mosque in order to render thanks to Allah.

Darkness crept on after a brief twilight. Moorish women, wrapped in
their white _haicks_, wearing their ugly baggy trousers, and veiled to
the eyes, waddled along slowly and noiselessly among the palms, and
gradually a gay cosmopolitan crowd assembled in the Place to enjoy the
_bel fresco_ after the terrible heat of the day, and to listen to the
fine band of the 1st Zouaves, which had already taken up its stand in
the centre of the Square, and was now playing one of Strauss's dreamy
waltzes.

The night was bright and starlit, one of those calm, mystic evenings
peculiar to North Africa. All was peaceful, but no moon had yet risen.
The city wore its gay air of carelessness. White-robed Moors and
red-fezzed Arabs, <DW64>s from the Soudan, and Biskris in their blue
burnouses, lounged, chattered, and promenaded, while the cafes and
bazaars around were full of life, and the warm, balmy air was laden with
the scent of flowers.

Suddenly, without warning, the whole place was illuminated by a
brilliant light from the sea. Slowly it swept the town, and a few
seconds later other bright beams shot forth, lighting up the quays, the
terraces of white, flat-roofed houses, and the Moorish city on the hill.
Then, before the promenaders could realise the cause, a loud booming
was heard at sea, and almost at the same moment a shell fell, and,
exploding in the midst of them, blew a dozen Moors and Arabs into atoms.

In a few seconds the cannonade increased, and the battery in the centre
of the harbour replied. Then firing seemed to proceed from all quarters,
and a storm of shell suddenly crashed upon the town with the most
appalling effect.

British war-vessels had crept up within range, and were pouring the
vials of Britain's wrath upon the ancient city of the Deys!

The detachment of vessels which, led by the new battleship _Jupiter_,
went south from St. Tropez, had received instructions to destroy Algiers
and return with all speed to Cagliari, in Sardinia, to await further
instructions. The bombardment of the two cities simultaneously was in
order to draw off the French Squadron from the position it had taken up
near Gibraltar, so that the British could fight and then run past them
into the Atlantic.

How far the manoeuvre succeeded is shown in the few interesting details
of the bombardment given in the course of an interview which a reporter
of the _Daily Telegraph_ had with Lieut. George Ingleton, of the
first-class cruiser _Edgar_. The officer said:--

"We arrived off Algiers two hours after sundown, and after an inspection
with search-lights, began to let fly with our big guns. In a few minutes
the Al-Djefna Battery in the centre of the harbour replied, and a moment
later a very rigorous fire was poured forth from Fort Neuf on the right
and Forts Bab-Azzoun and Conde on the left. All four were very strong,
and in conjunction with coast-defence vessels offered a most vigorous
resistance. So suddenly did we fire upon the town, that a frightful
panic must have been caused. Before we had fired half a dozen times, a
shot from one of our 22-tonners crashed into the dome of the Mosque and
totally demolished it, while another particularly well-aimed shell
struck the Mairie, a big handsome building on the Boulevard de la
Republique, facing the sea, tearing out a portion of the front. Then,
turning our guns upon the long row of shops, banks, and hotels which
formed the Boulevard, we pounded away most effectively, while several of
our other vessels attended to the forts.

"During the first half-hour the four warships of the enemy gave us
considerable trouble, but very soon our torpedoes had sunk two of them,
and the other two were quickly captured.

"Meanwhile, under the hot fire from the forts, the bombardment grew
exciting. Shells were ricochetting on the water all round us, but our
search-lights being now shut off, we offered a very indistinct target to
the enemy. On nearly all our ships, however, there were some slight
casualties. A shell severely damaged the superstructure of the
_Jupiter_, while others rendered useless several of her machine guns. A
shell penetrated the _Gannet_, unfortunately killing fourteen
bluejackets; and had it not been that the deck of the _Edgar_ was
protected throughout, the consequences to us would also have been very
serious. Nevertheless, our two 22-ton guns rendered valuable service,
and contributed in no small measure to the demolition of the town.

"From the outset we could see that Algiers was totally unprepared for
attack, and, continuing our fire calmly and regularly, we watched the
flames bursting forth in every part of the town and leaping skyward. On
shore the guns kept up their roaring thunder, although by aid of glasses
we could detect how effectual were our shells in wrecking the
fortifications and laying in ruins the European quarter. Every moment we
were dealing terrible blows which shook the city to its foundations. The
formidable city walls availed them nothing, for we could drop our shells
anywhere we pleased, either on the hill at Mustapha or upon the pretty
Moorish villas that lined the shore at St. Eugene.

"Blazing away at long range upon the town, we spread destruction
everywhere. Houses toppled like packs of cards, mosques were blown into
the air, and public buildings swept away like grains of sand before the
sirocco. Under such a fire thousands of natives and Europeans must have
perished, for we were determined to carry out our intentions, and teach
the invaders a lesson they were not likely to easily forget. Time after
time our heavy guns crashed, while our 6-inch quick-firers kept up their
roar, and our machine guns rattled continuously. As the hours went by,
and we continued our work of merciless destruction, we were hit once or
twice, but beyond the loss of two men and some unimportant damage we
escaped further punishment.

"The roar of our guns was deafening, and the smoke hung over the calm
sea like a storm-cloud. Still we kept on in the face of the galling fire
from the shore, and before midnight had the satisfaction of witnessing a
magnificent spectacle, for the isolated conflagrations gradually united
and the whole town was in flames.

"We had accomplished our work, so with cheers for Old England we gave a
parting shot, and turning were soon steaming away towards the Sicilian
coast, leaving Algiers a mass of roaring flame.

"The journey was uneventful until just before noon on the following day.
I was at that time on duty, and suddenly, to my surprise, detected a
number of ships. By the aid of our glasses, the captain and I found to
our dismay that a number of the most powerful vessels of the Russian
Fleet were bearing down upon us! All our other vessels had made the same
discovery, and I must confess that the meeting was somewhat
disconcerting. The strength of the Russian ironclads was such as to
cause our hearts to beat more quickly. To engage that great force meant
certain defeat, while it was necessary that our Admiral off Marseilles
should know of the whereabouts of this hostile squadron, therefore we
resolved to get away. But although we altered our course and put on all
speed, we were, alas! unsuccessful. At last we determined at all hazards
to stick to our guns so long as we were afloat, and as the first of the
Tsar's ironclads drew within range, one of our 22-tonners thundered. The
white smoke, driven forward, tumbled over our bows. We had spoken the
first word of battle!"




CHAPTER XXI.

A NAVAL FIGHT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.


"The great naval force of the Tsar, with which we were now face to
face," continued Lieutenant Ingleton in his narrative, "consisted of the
new battleship _Petropavlovsk_ of 10,960 tons, with a speed of 17 knots;
the great turret-ship _Dvenadsat Apostoloff_ of 8076 tons; the two new
barbette-ships _Kama_ and _Vologda_ of the _Cizoi Veliky_ type; the
_Tchesme_ of 10,181 tons, the _Gheorghy Pobyednosets_ of 10,280 tons,
and the powerful _Tria Sviatitelia_ of 12,480 tons; the two enormous new
cruisers _Tiumen_ and _Minsk_, both of 17,000 tons, and running at 20
knots; the _Vladimir Monomach_ of 5754 tons; the armoured gunboat
_Otvazny_, and the new rams _Admiral Seniavine_ and _Admiral Uschakoff_,
with thirty torpedo boats, including the _Kodor_, _Reni_, _Anakria_, and
_Adler_, the latter being able to run at 27.4 knots.

"Against such a gigantic force as this our small force of vessels and
torpedo boats presented but a sorry appearance. Nevertheless we had
fired the first shot, and were now determined to die rather than haul
down our colours. As our guns thundered, those of the _Jupiter_,
_Repulse_, _Sans Pareil_, _Undaunted_, _Orlando_, _Diana_, _Scout_, and
_Gannet_ joined in noisy chorus. The 12-inch guns in the turrets of the
_Petropavlovsk_ and the four big guns in the barbettes of the _Tria
Sviatitelia_ crashed out together, and almost immediately afterwards we
found ourselves being swept from stem to stern by the enemy's shells.
The Russian battleships were all well armoured, and had a much heavier
shell fire than the vessels of either France or Britain. We were both in
columns of divisions in line ahead, but from the first moment of the
engagement our position was critical.

"A terrific and deadly storm burst upon us from the enemy's tops, while
his heavy guns kept up an incessant thunder. With such an enormous force
against us, it was apparent to every man on board that disaster was
imminent. It had, alas! never been graven sufficiently deep upon the
public mind how absurdly weak we were in the Mediterranean. Here, as in
all other squadrons, every grade of officer from commander downwards was
deficient in numbers, and the ships in commission had for years been so
much below their complement that the work had only been carried on with
great difficulty. Other ships at home had been obliged to wait until a
sufficient number of merchant seamen and half-trained engine-room staff
could be scraped together to provide the semblance of a crew. In fact,
successive British Governments of both parties had subordinated national
necessities to a desire to evade a material increase in taxation, and
now at last our Mediterranean Squadron were compelled to face the
inevitable.

"The insidious cunning and patient methods to which the Russians resort
in order to attain their aims and break their boundaries had once more
been illustrated. They had, by dint of extraordinary chicanery, secured
absolute possession of the small Turkish peninsula known as Mount Athos.
Situated near the entrance of the Gulf of Salonica, it was a paramount
strategical position, and its possessor was now enabled to keep watch
upon Macedonia, and in the meantime be very near the Dardanelles, and
also Asia Minor. The possession was accomplished in a curiously secret
manner, showing to what extent Russian foresight and artifice is
carried. For years past the _Societe Slav de Bienfaisance_ had been
sending, through a bank in Salonica, large sums of money to further the
aim. To the casual observer there was nothing extraordinary about this,
for the Russians had established on the lofty heights several
monasteries, converting the place into a clerical settlement. This fact
was pointed out by the _Pall Mall Gazette_ as far back as 1893, but the
British public at that time failed to detect any Russian intrigue.

"Gradually, however, Muscovite roubles purchased the surrounding
property, and Greek convents were reduced to poverty while Russian
institutions flourished and increased. But, strangely enough, the
inmates of these monasteries were suddenly discovered to be mock
clerics, and then it was disclosed that under the cover of monastic
garments and robes were to be found the Tsar's soldiers, performing a
three years' special and specific military service!

"Yet, owing to the Sultan's weakness, to the almighty backsheesh, and to
the shortsightedness of Turkish statesmen, the Russians were not
dislodged, but the position was actually ceded to them, with the result
that they had now firmly established themselves where they were enabled
to counteract British action and influence. A naval station had been
established for their Mediterranean Squadron at Poros, off the eastern
coast of the Peloponnesus, some fifteen miles due south of the island of
AEgina. Here there were three miles of deep water safe from sea attack,
with an arsenal and dockyard, on the very weakest point along the line
of our highway between England and India! Such was the manner in which
our power in the Mediterranean had been undermined!

"There was, however, no time for reflection amid the deafening roar.
This Black Sea Fleet that had burst its bonds and passed through the
Dardanelles intended to sweep us from the sea. Yet, notwithstanding the
terrible fire pouring upon us from these great and powerful ships, each
fully equipped with the latest and most improved arms, fully manned by
well-trained men, and fresh for the fray, we held our quarters,
determined to show the forces of the Tsar defiance. Even though every
man of us might be sent to an untimely grave, the Russian flag should
never surmount the White Ensign of Britain. We were determined, so we
set our teeth, and showed a firm and vigorous front to the foe.

"Our two 22-tonners rendered admirable service, and the cannonade kept
up from our 3 and 6-pounder quick-firing guns was playing havoc with the
Russian belted cruiser _Vladimir Monomach_ lying on our port quarter.
The vessel was slightly larger than ourselves, carrying much heavier
armaments, including four 13-ton guns, and twelve 4-tonners. She was
indeed a very formidable opponent, nevertheless we did our best, and,
blazing away at close quarters, soon succeeded in silencing the
starboard 13-tonner nearest us.

"Just at this moment I found we were being attacked on the port bow by
the enormous new turret-ship _Petropavlovsk_ and the _Dvenadsat
Apostoloff_. Two of the heavy 12-inch guns of the former thundered
almost simultaneously, and both shells striking us almost amidships,
caused us such a shock that for a second I stood breathless.

"In a few moments, however, it was reported that our 'vitals' had
fortunately escaped, and we continued firing as if no catastrophe had
occurred. As a matter of fact, the damage caused by those two shells was
appalling.

"The _Jupiter_, steaming about two miles away on our starboard quarter,
was apparently holding her own against the barbette-ships _Tchesme_ and
_Gheorghy Pobyednosets_, the cruiser _Tiumen_, one of the largest in the
world, and the new ram _Admiral Seniavine_. The four attacking vessels,
as seen through the dense smoke, were pouring into the British ship a
deadly fire; yet, judging from the fallen tops and disabled engines of
the _Gheorghy Pobyednosets_ and the wrecked superstructure of the
_Tchesme_, the _Jupiter's_ heavy armaments were executing good work,
notwithstanding the strength of the _Tchesme's_ six 50-ton guns,
admirably arranged in pairs in the centre of the vessel.

"The _Diana_ and _Sans Pareil_, lying near to one another, were
desperately resisting the vigorous attack made by the _Admiral
Uschakoff_, _Minsk_, _Otvazny_, _Kama_, and _Vologda_; and here again,
amid smoke and flying debris, I could distinguish that the 67-tonners of
the _Repulse_, in co-operation with the lighter weapons of the
_Undaunted_, were giving the enemy a taste of what British courage could
accomplish.

"The sea around us simply swarmed with Russian torpedo boats, and it
required all our vigilance to evade their continued attacks. Before an
hour had passed we had succeeded in sinking two by shots from our 6-inch
guns, and several more were sent to the bottom by well-aimed projectiles
from the _Dido_ and _Jupiter_.

"As for ourselves, projectiles were sweeping across our deck like hail,
and under the incessant and fearful fire we were suffering frightfully.
Over sixty of our men and a sub-lieutenant had been killed, while
forty-nine were severely wounded. Once I had occasion to go below, and
between decks the sight that met my gaze was awful.

"Around two of the quick-firing guns on our port quarter lay the guns'
crews, mutilated by shells from the _Vladimir Monomach_. They had been
killed almost instantly while standing bravely at their posts. The scene
was appalling. The mangled masses of humanity amid which the surgeons
were at work were awful to look upon, and I rushed up again with the
terrible scene photographed indelibly upon my memory.

"Meanwhile the ship was in the greatest peril. The continual bursting of
shells upon her shook and shattered her, and she trembled violently as,
time after time, her own guns uttered their thundering reply to her
enemies. Heeling now this way, now that, as the helm was put hard over
to avoid a blow, the situation on board was intensely exciting.

"Those were terrible moments. The captain suddenly noticed the movements
of the _Vladimir Monomach_, and divined her intentions. She had ceased
firing, and by a neatly executed manoeuvre was preparing to ram us. In a
moment our helm was put over again, and the _Edgar_ answered to it
immediately.

"'Ready bow tube!' I heard the captain shout hoarsely. He waited a few
moments, allowing the Russian ironclad to partially perform her
evolution, then just as she came almost into collision with us he
shrieked 'Fire bow tube!' at the same time bringing us over further to
port.

"The seconds seemed hours. Suddenly there was a loud explosion, a great
column of water rose under the Russian's bow, and we knew the torpedo
had struck. At that moment, too, even while the water was still in the
air, one of our torpedo boats which had crept up under the _Vladimir
Monomach's_ stern sent another torpedo at her, which also hit its mark
and ripped her up. Turning our guns upon the armoured cruiser, we poured
volley after volley into her, but she did not reply, for her men were
panic-stricken, and she was sinking fast.

"The _Petropavlovsk_, leaving us, endeavoured to rescue her crew, but
ere a dozen men were saved, she settled down bow foremost, and
disappeared into the deep, carrying down with her nearly five hundred
officers and men.

"The _Dvenadsat Apostoloff_ kept up her fire upon us, and a few moments
later I witnessed another disaster, for a shot from one of her bow guns
struck the torpedo boat that had just assisted us, and sank it. A few
minutes later a loud explosion in the direction of the _Sans Pareil_
attracted my attention, and, turning, I saw amid the smoke-clouds debris
precipitated high into the air. A shot from one of her 111-ton guns had
penetrated to the magazine of the _Admiral Seniavine_, which had
exploded, causing a frightful disaster on board that vessel, and just at
the same moment a cheer from the crew of one of our 6-inch guns prompted
me to look for the cause, which I found in the fact that they had shot
the Russian colours completely away from the _Dvenadsat Apostoloff_.

"Again another frightful explosion sounded loud above the incessant din,
and to my satisfaction I saw a great column of water rise around the
_Admiral Uschakoff_, which, fighting at close quarters with the _Dido_,
had apparently been torpedoed. Not satisfied with this, the captain of
the _Dido_, keeping his machine guns going, turned his vessel and
discharged a second Whitehead, which also struck with such terrible
effect that the Russian ship began at once to sink, and in a few minutes
the blue waves closed for ever over her tops, ere a score or so out of
her crew of 300 could be rescued.

"It was nearly three bells, and the sun was setting. A galling fire from
the machine guns in the foretop of the _Dvenadsat Apostoloff_ suddenly
swept our deck, killing a dozen poor fellows who were at work clearing
away some debris, and at the same moment a shot from one of her 52-ton
guns crashed into our port quarter, and must have caused terrible havoc
among the guns' crews. A moment later we were dismayed by the report
that our steering-gear had been broken. For a few seconds we were
helplessly swinging round under the awful fire which was now pouring
from the great guns of the Russian ironclad, and our captain was making
strenuous efforts to recover control of the ship, when I saw the torpedo
boat _Anakria_ shoot suddenly across our bows, then quickly slacken as
she got to starboard of us.

"A second later I realised her intention, and shouted frantically. A
line of bubbles had appeared on the surface advancing swiftly towards
us. She had ejected a torpedo straight at us, and I stood petrified, not
daring to breathe.

"A moment later there came a terrific explosion right underneath us,
followed by a harsh tearing sound as iron plates were torn asunder like
tinfoil, and the ship's side was ripped completely up. The _Edgar_
heaved high and plunged heavily, a great column of water rose high above
her masts, and the air seemed filled with flying fragments of iron and
wood. The vessel rocked and swayed so that we could not keep our feet,
and then gradually heeling over, causing her guns to shift, she went
down before a soul on board could launch a boat.

"At the moment of the explosion I felt a sharp twinge in the back, and
found that I had been struck by a flying splinter of steel. The strain
of those hours had been terrible, and of the events that followed I can
only recollect two things. I remember finding myself struggling alone in
the water with a shower of bullets from the _Dvenadsat Apostoloff's_
tops sending up little splashes about me. Then I felt my strength
failing, my limbs seemed paralysed, and I could no longer strike out to
save myself. Abandoning all hope, I was sinking, when suddenly a rope
was flung to me. I remember how frantically I clutched it, and that a
few moments later I was hauled aboard a torpedo boat; but for days
afterwards I lay hovering 'twixt life and death, oblivious to all. I
was one of the thirteen only who were saved out of a crew of 327 brave
officers and men."

Such a ghastly disaster could only produce profound dismay among those
who manned the remaining British vessels. Straining every nerve to
uphold the honour of Britain, the guns' crews of the _Jupiter_, _Sans
Pareil_, _Repulse_, and _Undaunted_, with smoke-begrimed hands and
faces, worked on with that indomitable energy begotten of despair.
Regardless of the awful rain of shot and shell, they reloaded and fired
with calm, dogged self-possession, the officers on all four vessels
inspiring their men by various deeds of valour, and preserving such
discipline under fire as none but British sailors could. The British
naval officer is full of undaunted defiance and contempt for his foes;
but, above all, he is a strict disciplinarian, and to this our country
in a great measure owes the supremacy our Navy has hitherto enjoyed upon
the seas. During the fight the vessels had been moving in a
north-easterly direction, and although the Russians were unaware of the
fact, Her Majesty's ships had therefore continued in their course.
Hence, just as a cool breeze sprang up at sundown, soon after the
_Edgar_ had sunk, a line of low dark cliffs was sighted ahead.

The officers of the _Diana_, watching anxiously through their glasses,
distinguished the distant crest of Mount Genargentu gradually appearing
against the clear evening sky, and then they knew that they were off
Sardinia, outside the Gulf of Oristano.

Altering their course, they headed due north, still keeping up a running
fire, but the Russians prevented them making headway.

All our vessels were suffering frightfully, when there was a sudden
explosion, and, to the Englishmen's dismay, it was seen that a torpedo
had struck the _Undaunted_ nearly amidships. Still the doomed vessel
managed to evade a second attack, and by a desperate manoeuvre the
captain succeeded in turning and heading for land.

The remaining ships, in their terribly crippled condition, would, the
Russians anticipated, soon fall an easy prey. Nevertheless, with their
crews decimated, their guns disabled, and their machinery damaged, the
British vessels still continued firing, the men resolved to go down at
their quarters. They knew that escape was hopeless, and every moment
they saw their comrades being swept away by the great exploding
projectiles of the Tsar's heavy guns. But they were not dismayed. To do
their utmost for the defence of Britain, to keep afloat as long as
possible, and to die like Britons with faces towards the foe, was their
duty. Pale and desperate, they were fighting for their country and their
Queen, knowing that only a grave in the deep and the honour of those at
home would be the reward of their bravery--that at any moment they might
be launched into the unknown.

Suddenly there was a loud shouting on board the _Jupiter_, and signals
were, a moment later, run up to her half-wrecked top. The captain of the
_Dido_, noticing this, looked to ascertain the cause, and saw away on
the horizon to the north, whence the dark night clouds were rising, a
number of strange craft. Snatching up his glass, he directed it on the
strangers, and discovered that they were Italian warships, and were
exchanging rapid signals with the captain. They were promising
assistance!

Cheers rang loudly through the British vessels, when, a few minutes
later, the truth became known, and the guns' crews worked with redoubled
energy, while the Russians, noticing the approaching ships, were
apparently undecided how to act. They were given but little time for
reflection, however, for within half an hour the first of the great
Italian ironclads, the _Lepanto_, opened fire upon the _Petropavlovsk_,
and was quickly followed by others, until the action became general all
round.

Aid had arrived just in time, and the British vessels, with engines
broken, stood away at some distance, leaving matters for the nonce to
the powerful Italian Squadron. It was indeed a very formidable one, and
its appearance caused the Russian Admiral such misgivings that he gave
orders to retreat, a manoeuvre attempted unsuccessfully. The Italian
Fleet, as it loomed up in the falling gloom, included no fewer than
twenty-six warships and forty-three torpedo boats. The vessels consisted
of the barbette-ship _Lepanto_ of 15,000 tons; the _Sardegna_,
_Sicilia_, and _Re Umberto_ of 13,000 tons; the _Andrea Doria_,
_Francesca Morosini_, and _Ruggiero di Lauria_ of 11,000 tons; the
turret-ships _Dandolo_ and _Duilio_ of the same size; the _Ammeraglio di
St. Bon_ of 9800 tons; the armoured cruisers _Ancona_, _Castelfidardo_,
and _Maria Pia_, and the _San Martino_, each of about 4500 tons; the
gun-vessels _Andrea Provana_, _Cariddi_, _Castore_, _Curtatone_; the
torpedo gunboats _Aretusa_, _Atlante_, _Euridice_, _Iride_,
_Montebello_, and _Monzambano_; the despatch vessels _Galileo_ and
_Vedetta_; and the first-class torpedo vessels _Aquila_, _Avvoltoio_,
_Falco_, _Nibbio_, and _Sparviero_, and thirty-eight others.

With such a force descending upon the Russian ships, which had already
been very severely punished by the vigorous fire of the British, there
was little wonder that the Tsar's vessels should endeavour to escape.
The Italian Fleet had already bombarded and destroyed Ajaccio two days
ago, and, steaming south from the Corsican capital, had anchored for
twenty-four hours off Cape della Caccia, near Alghero, in the north of
Sardinia. Then again taking a southerly course in the expectation of
joining hands with the British Mediterranean Squadron, which was on its
way from Marseilles to Cagliari, they had fallen in with the three
crippled ships.

Without hesitation the powerful Italian ironclads, several of which were
among the finest in the world, opened a terrific fire upon the Russian
ships, and as darkness fell the sight was one of appalling grandeur.
From all sides flame rushed from turrets and barbettes in vivid flashes,
while the Maxims in the tops poured out their deadly showers of bullets.
The ponderous 105-ton guns of the _Andrea Doria_, _Francesca Morosini_,
and _Ruggiero di Lauria_ crashed and roared time after time, their great
shots causing frightful havoc among the Russian ships, the four
100-tonners of the _Lepanto_ and the 67-tonners of the _Re Umberto_,
_Sardegna_, and _Sicilia_ simply knocking to pieces the _Petropavlovsk_.
The Russian ships were receiving terrible blows on every hand. With
their search-lights beaming forth in all directions, the ships were
fighting fiercely, pounding away at each other with deafening din. It
was not long, however, before this vigorous attack of the Italians began
to tell, for within an hour of the first shot from the _Lepanto_ the
fine Russian battleship _Gheorghy Pobyednosets_ and the great new
cruiser _Minsk_ of 17,000 tons had been rammed and sunk, the former by
the _Duilio_, and the latter by the _Re Umberto_, while the _Tchesme_
and the gunboat _Otvazny_ had been torpedoed, and scarcely a soul saved
out of 1500 men who were on board.

Explosions were occurring in quick succession, and red glares flashed
momentarily over the sea. Hither and thither as the Italian torpedo
boats darted they ejected their missiles, and the rapid and terrible
fire from the leviathans of Italy, pouring into every one of the
remaining ships of the Tsar, killed hundreds who were striving to defend
themselves.

Suddenly the _Sicilia_, which had been fighting the Russian flagship,
the _Tria Sviatitelia_, at close quarters, and had blown away her
conning-tower and greater portion of her superstructure, performed a
neat evolution, and crashed her ram right into her opponent's broadside,
breaking her almost in half.

A few moments later there was a terrific explosion on board, and then
the doomed vessel sank into the dark rolling sea, carrying with her the
Russian Admiral and all hands.

Quickly this success was followed by others--the blowing up of the
monster new cruiser _Tiumen_, the sinking of the _Adler_ and four other
Russian torpedo boats, occurring in rapid succession. Seeing with what
rapidity and irresistible force they were being swept from the sea, the
remainder of the Tsar's shattered fleet struck their flags and called
for quarter, not, however, before the torpedo boat _Kodor_ had been
sunk. The Russians thus captured were the battleships _Petropavlovsk_ of
10,960 tons, the _Dvenadsat Apostoloff_ of 8076 tons, the two new
barbette-ships, _Kama_ and _Vologda_, both of whose engines had broken
down, and fifteen torpedo boats.

[Illustration:
_Ruggiero di Lauria._  _Re Umberto._ _Duilio._ _Tchesme._
_Dvenadsat Apostoloff._
_H.M.S. Edgar._
HELP FROM ITALY: "WITH THEIR SEARCH-LIGHTS BEAMING FORTH IN ALL
DIRECTIONS, THE SHIPS WERE FIGHTING FIERCELY, POUNDING AWAY AT EACH
OTHER WITH DEAFENING DIN."]

At dawn most of the latter were manned by Italians, while the captured
ships, with the Italian colours flying and bearing evidence of the
terrible conflict, were on their way due north to Genoa, accompanied by
the battered British vessels.

The strongest division of Russia's Fleet had been totally destroyed, and
the Tsar's power in the Mediterranean was broken.




CHAPTER XXII.

PANIC IN LANCASHIRE.


The Russians were within gunshot of Manchester! A profound sensation was
caused in that city about eight o'clock on the evening of September 6th,
by an announcement made by the _Evening News_--which still appeared in
fitful editions--that a Cossack patrol had been seen on the road between
Macclesfield and Alderley, and that it was evident, from the manner of
the Russian advance, that they meant to attack the city almost
immediately.

The utmost alarm was caused, and the streets were everywhere crowded by
anxious, starving throngs, eager to ascertain fuller details, but unable
to gather anything further beyond the wild conjectures of idle gossip.

The great city which, on the outbreak of war, was one of the most
prosperous in the world, was now but a sorry semblance of its former
self. Heated, excited, turbulent, its streets echoed with the
heartrending wails of despairing crowds, its factories were idle, its
shops closed, and its people were succumbing to the horrible, lingering
death which is the result of starvation.

Wealth availed them naught. Long ago the last loaf had been devoured,
the last sack of flour had been divided, and the rich living in the
suburbs now felt the pinch of hunger quite as acutely as factory
operatives, who lounged, hands in pockets, about the streets.
Manchester, like most other towns in England, had come to the end of
her supplies, and death and disease now decimated the more populous
districts, while those who had left the city and tramped north had fared
no better, and hundreds dropped and died by the roadside.

The situation in Lancashire was terrible. At Liverpool a few vessels
were arriving from America, under escort of British cruisers, bringing
supplies, but these were mostly purchased at enormously high rates, and
sent to London by way of Manchester and Sheffield, railway communication
by that route being still open. This fact becoming known in Manchester
caused the greatest indignation, and the people, rendered desperate by
hunger, succeeded on several occasions in stopping the trains, and
appropriating the food they carried. The situation in Manchester was one
of constant excitement, and fear that the enemy should repeat the
success they had achieved at Birmingham. The hundreds of thousands of
hungry ones who flocked Manchester streets and the grimy thoroughfares
of Stockport, Ashton, Oldham, Bolton, and other great towns in the
vicinity, feared that they, like the people of Birmingham, would be put
to the sword by the ruthless invaders.

The week that had elapsed had been an eventful one, fraught with many
horrors. After the success of the Russians at Birmingham, the British
troops, both Regulars, Volunteers, and improvised, fell back and formed
up north of the city, being practically nothing more than a strong line
of outposts without reserves, extending from Dudley, through West
Bromwich and Sutton Park, to Tamworth. This scheme, however, was
ill-devised, for the defenders, in order to act successfully, should
have fallen back much further, and concentrated their forces at one or
two strategical points on the line to Manchester, as it had been
ascertained from spies that a swift and vigorous attack on that city was
meditated.

The day following the taking of Birmingham was devoted by the enemy to
the reorganisation of their forces, and the rearrangement of their
transport and ammunition train. Large quantities of waggons and war
stores of all kinds had been found in the town and annexed by the
victors, and at Kynoch's Factory at Aston some hundreds of thousands of
rounds of ammunition had been seized. These had been made for a foreign
government, and fitted both rifles and machine guns of the Russians.

Having thus reorganised, the Russians, leaving 10,000 men in Birmingham
as a base, resumed their march north on the third day. The left flank,
consisting of 2000 cavalry and 12,000 infantry, took the road through
West Bromwich to Wednesbury and Bilston, but quickly found themselves
entrapped, for on account of the many canals their cavalry were unable
to act, and their transport was cut off. The miners and factory men had
armed themselves, and, acting in conjunction with the British troops
from Dudley and Great Barr, succeeded, after some hard fighting around
Tipton and Coseley, in completely annihilating the enemy, taking 5000
prisoners and killing the remaining 9000.

Meanwhile the right flank had passed out of Birmingham by way of Castle
Bromwich, and had advanced without opposition through Wishaw and
Tamworth to Lichfield, driving the defenders before them. The Russian
main column, however, were not allowed to go north without a most
desperate endeavour on the part of our men to hold them in check.
Indeed, if ever British courage showed itself it was during those dark
days. Advancing through Aston and Perry to Sutton along the ancient
highway, Icknield Street, the Russians sent a large force through the
woods to the high ground between Wild Green and Maney. Here the British
had established strong batteries, but after some desperate fighting
these were at length captured, the enemy losing heavily. At the same
time, fierce fighting occurred in Sutton Park and across at Aldridge,
the defenders making the most strenuous efforts to break the force of
the invaders. All was, alas! to no purpose. The British, outnumbered as
before, were compelled to fall back fighting, with the result that the
enemy's main column, pushing on, effected a junction with its right
flank, which had bivouaced on Wittington Heath, near Lichfield, and
occupied the barracks there.

On the day following the invaders broke into two columns and marched
again north, practically in battle formation, the right column
continuing along Icknield Street, through Burton, Derby, Bakewell, and
Marple, driving back the defenders, while the left column took a route
that lay through the hilly and wooded country near Cannock Chase. Both
columns, advancing in echelon of division, with cavalry on their flanks,
were constantly harassed in the rear by the British, and in their
advance lost numbers of waggons and a large quantity of ammunition; but
they succeeded in travelling so quickly north that they were actually
marching on Manchester before the people in that city could realise it.
Signal acts of bravery were being everywhere reported, but what could
individual heroism effect against the fearful odds we had to face?

Thousands of men in Bolton, Bury, Oldham, Wigan, Rochdale, and other
neighbouring towns had already armed themselves, and, on hearing that
Manchester was threatened, poured into the city to act their part
bravely in its defence.

It must be admitted that the British General commanding had, on gaining
knowledge of the intentions of the Russians, taken every precaution in
his power to prevent an advance on Manchester.

Our troops which had been defeated and driven back from Birmingham, had
at once retreated north to the Peak district, and about one-quarter of
the number had taken up excellent defensive positions there, while the
remainder, with small reinforcements of Regulars drawn from Lancaster,
Warrington, Bury, Chester, Wrexham, Burnley, Ashton-under-Lyne, York,
Halifax, and as far distant as Carlisle, had, in addition to those from
Manchester, been massed along the north bank of the Mersey from
Stockport to Flixton, with a line of communication stretching across to
Woodley Junction, and thence over Glossop Dale to the Peak.

Thus Manchester was defended by a force of 38,000 cavalry, infantry,
Volunteers, and colonials, against the Russian army, consisting of the
remaining 65,000 of the force which attacked Birmingham, and
reinforcements of 10,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry that had been pushed
rapidly forward from Sussex over the ground that the main body had
travelled. The total force of Russians was therefore 80,000.

From Stockport, the north bank of the Mersey to its confluence with the
Irwell past Flixton was well guarded. Earthworks had been raised,
trenches dug, walls had been loopholed, and houses placed in a state of
hasty defence. Among the reinforcements now under arms were several
portions of battalions of Lancashire Volunteer Artillery who had not
gone south to their allotted positions in the defence of London, and
five companies of the 1st Cheshire and Carnarvonshire Artillery under
Col. H. T. Brown, V.D., together with the Cheshire Yeomanry under Col.
P. E. Warburton. The Manchester Brigade was a strong one, consisting of
six Volunteer battalions of the Manchester Regiment, the 1st under the
Earl of Crawford, V.D., the 2nd under Col. Bridgford, V.D., the 3rd
under Col. Eaton, V.D., the 4th under Col. Lynde, V.D., the 5th under
Col. Rocca, V.D., and the 6th under Col. Lees; the Cheshire and
Lancashire Brigades included three Volunteer battalions of the
Lancashire Fusiliers under Colonels Young, Philippi, and Haworth, and
two battalions of the South Lancashire Regiment; while the Northern
Counties Brigade, composed of one Volunteer battalion of the Royal
Lancaster Regiment under Col. Strongitharm, two battalions of the East
Lancashire Regiment under Col. A. I. Robinson, V.D., and Col. T.
Mitchell, V.D., and two of the Loyal North Lancashire under Col. Widdows
and Col. Ormrod, also mustered their forces and performed excellent
defensive work. It was here, too, that the Volunteer cyclists were found
of the utmost value in scouting and carrying despatches.

The excitement in Manchester on that memorable September night was
intense. That a desperate and bloody fray was imminent, every one knew,
and the people were trusting to the defensive line on the river bank to
protect them from the foreign destroyer. Would they be strong enough to
effectively resist? Would they be able to drive back the Russians and
defeat them?

The people of Lancashire who condemned our military administration did
not do so without cause. It had been claimed by many that England could
never be invaded; nevertheless our course should have been to prepare
for possible events. Our Army, being small, should have been better
equipped and armed, as well as trained to balance weakness in numbers.
Again, there had always existed a hideous hindrance to the efficiency of
the Auxiliaries--the arms. Many of the Martini-Henrys carried by the
Volunteers bore date of a quarter of a century ago, and their barrels
were so worn they could not be fired accurately; while others possessed
the Snider, which was practically a smoothbore from wear. What was the
use of weapons surpassed in power by those of other nations? It was an
unpalatable truth that had now at last dawned upon Britain, that in
arming her soldiers she was far behind the rest of the world.

While Manchester spent the sultry night in feverish excitement at the
knowledge that the enemy had advanced almost to their doors, the British
outposts were being harassed by the enemy, who, flushed with success,
were advancing gradually onward towards the line of defence. The Russian
front had been suddenly widely extended, evidently aiming at a
concentric attack on Manchester, and an attempt to wholly envelop the
defenders' position by cavalry operating on both flanks.

Some terribly desperate encounters took place during a frightful
thunderstorm which lasted a portion of the night, and many a brave
Briton fell while performing valiant deeds for the honour of his
country. The anxiety within the British lines that hot night was
intense.

Reports coming in told of fierce fighting all along the line. Soon after
midnight a British patrol, supported by cavalry, that had been sent out
from Northenden to Baguley, was suddenly attacked by a party of
Russians, who lay in ambush close to Wythenshaw Hall. A short but fierce
fight ensued, but the British, knowing that part of the country well,
succeeded in totally annihilating their antagonists. The firing,
however, attracted attention in the Russian lines, with the result that
a second attack was quickly made upon them, compelling them to retire up
the hill at Lawton Moor, where they dashed into a small wood, closely
pressed by the enemy. The attack was desperate. There is something
terrible in a fight in a wood at night. The combatants could see nothing
save an occasional flash in the impenetrable darkness, and hoarse cries
went up from the mysterious inferno. Neither invader nor defender could
distinguish each other, and in the half-hour that followed, many a
Russian shot his comrade in mistake for his foe.

At last the defenders, finding that the slightest rustling of boughs
brought down a volley from magazine rifles, stood motionless, scarcely
daring to breathe, and waited anxiously, until at last the enemy, seeing
that their efforts to drive them out were useless, withdrew, and went
off towards Baguley.

In another direction, close to Henbury, near Macclesfield, a squadron of
British cavalry surprised a small outpost camp of Russians, and cut it
up terribly, killing half the number; but pushing on to Marthall, six
miles across country, they came into collision with a body of Russian
dragoons, and after a very fierce encounter were compelled to fall back
again after considerable loss. On the outskirts of Northwich, and on the
borders of Delamere Forest, skirmishes occurred, resulting in serious
loss on both sides. A reconnoitring party of Russians was totally swept
away and every man killed, by a British party who were concealed in an
old farm building close to Alderley village; while another engaged in
surveying the roads to Altrincham had been forced to retreat, leaving
half their number dead or wounded on the edge of Tatton Park.




CHAPTER XXIII.

THE EVE OF BATTLE.


Some idea of the gallant conduct of our Volunteers during the night may
be gathered from the following extract from a letter by Lieutenant John
Rowling of the 2nd Volunteer Battalion of the East Lancashire Regiment,
to a friend a few days afterwards. He wrote--

"You will no doubt have heard something about the warm work we had on
the night before the Battle of Manchester. The city, as you know, was
covered on the south by a long straggling line of outposts, extending
practically from Stockport to Altrincham. Late in the afternoon of
September 6th we received an order to proceed to Mere, about four miles
from Altrincham, having been detailed to form the section of the
outposts from New Tatton to Goodier's Green, and on arrival at Mere half
of our force of 600 was left in reserve there; the supports were moved
about half a mile down Watling Street, and the remainder was divided
into three piquets, No. 1 at Bentley Hurst Farm, No. 2 at Moss Cottage,
and No. 3 near Mereplatt Farm, with four double sentry posts out in
front of each piquet.

"I was in command of No. 2 picket, with Anderson and Wishton as subs,
and as soon as I returned to the piquet, after posting the sentries, I
sent the former with two sections to form a detached post at Over
Tabley, and instructed him to send a reconnoitring patrol as far down
Watling Street as he might consider consistent with safety. Anderson
posted his men, and returned to me about ten o'clock with a corporal and
two men, bringing in a man who had been pointed out to him at Over
Tabley as a suspicious character--in fact, he was said to be a spy. He
had been staying at an inn there for two or three days, and had very
little luggage. Anderson had examined his portmanteau, but found nothing
there; and as the man refused to give any account of himself, he made
him a prisoner. Fresh fires were continually breaking out, therefore I
thought it best to waste no time questioning him, but took him into a
room at Moss Cottage, where he was thoroughly searched. Notes were found
upon him from which it was evident that he had been obtaining
information for the enemy for some time, and, better still, particulars
of their proposed operations for the investment of Manchester, showing
that they were advancing in our direction along the old Watling Street.

"I sent the prisoner under escort to the commander of the outposts, and
at the same time sent word to Nos. 1 and 3 piquets, after which Anderson
and I went down to Over Tabley, leaving Wishton in charge of No. 2. The
machine gun that had been allotted to my piquet I also ordered to Over
Tabley, and on arrival there we threw up barricades, hastily constructed
of barrels, doors, and logs, banked with earth, across the road between
the Vicarage and the church. A quantity of barbed wire was found in the
village, and this came in very useful, for we stretched several lengths
of it across the roads on the off-side of the barricade.

"There were under thirty of us, but every man was determined to do his
duty unflinchingly. By this time it was past eleven, and very dark, yet
there was just light enough to train the gun on to the centre of the
cross-roads by Dairyhouse Farm. Very soon we could hear the enemy
approaching, and as their spy had not met them outside, they evidently
concluded that the village was unoccupied, and advanced in comparatively
close order, Cossacks leading, and the infantry so close that there was
practically no division between their vanguard and mainguard. The first
section of Cossacks very soon found our first wire, and the whole of
their horses came to grief. Those in the rear, thinking probably that
there was no other obstruction in the way, spurred their horses and
galloped over their friends, only to meet with a similar fate further
on.

"The pioneers doubled up, and began to cut the wires, and fearing that
the infantry in the rear would soon deploy, I gave the order for
independent firing. The Russians stood it for some minutes, and
attempted to reply, but not a man of ours was visible, and they soon
retreated to Tabley Hall, where I had no means of following them.

"It must be remembered that we were all Volunteers, the Regulars being
on the Stockport flank of the outpost line. My men behaved splendidly,
and the firing was excellent from first to last."

About the same time as the unsuccessful attack was made on the outposts
at Mere, the British line was broken through at Heald Green and
Appletree.

A cavalry patrol, supported by infantry, was feeling its way along the
road to Wilmslow, and had passed Willow Farm, at which point the road
runs beside the railway embankment.

The storm had burst, the thunder rolled incessantly, rain fell in
torrents, and the lightning played about them, causing their arms to
gleam in its vivid flashes.

Slowly, and without undue noise, the patrol was wending its way up the
hill towards Finney Green, when suddenly there was a terrific rattle of
musketry, and they discovered to their surprise that the enemy, who were
occupying the embankment of the North-Western Railway on their left,
were pouring upon them a fire sufficient to blanch the cheek of the
bravest among them.

Along the embankment for a mile or more were stationed infantry with
magazine rifles, and in addition they had brought two machine guns into
play with appalling effect. So sudden did this galling fire open upon
them, that men and horses fell without being able to fire a shot in
return. British infantry, however, stood their ground, and as the
lightning flashed, disclosing the position of the enemy, every Russian
who dared to stand up or show himself was promptly picked off. But
against the awful rain of deadly bullets ejected from the machine guns,
at the rate of 600 a minute, no force could make a successful defence.

Many British heroes fell pierced by a dozen bullets; still their
comrades, seeking what shelter they could, continued the defensive.

Meanwhile over the dismal muddy road the survivors of the cavalry
galloped back, and quickly reported to the commander of the piquet at
Appletree that the enemy were in strong force on the other side of the
embankment between Oaklands and Wilmslow Park, and as they had heard a
train run into Wilmslow Station and stop, it was evident that the enemy
had reopened the line from Crewe, and intended concentrating part of
their reinforcements to the general advance. The facts that the enemy
had succeeded in cutting all the telegraph lines in the district, and
had now obtained complete control over the railway, were most alarming,
and the outlook of the defenders was rendered doubly serious by the
large force they were compelled to keep east of Stockport, and in the
Peak district, to prevent the invaders getting round to attack
Manchester from the north.

On receipt of the news of the disaster to the patrol, the commander of
the piquet at Appletree immediately sent information to the commander of
the piquet posted at the railway station at Cheadle Hulme; but by a
strange oversight, due no doubt to the excitement of the moment, sent no
report to the commander of the outposts. The infantry engaging the
Russians on the embankment, though exhibiting most gallant courage, were
so exposed that it was little wonder they were soon completely
annihilated, only half a dozen escaping.

The enemy must have detrained a large number of troops at Wilmslow, for
the British cavalry scouts were quickly followed up by Cossacks and the
Tsar's Dragoons. Quickly the sentries between Heald Green and
Appletree were driven back on their piquets, the latter extending in
skirmishing order. Such a manoeuvre, however, proved fatal in the
darkness and on the heavy ploughed land over which they were fighting.
Alas! very few succeeded in reaching the supports, and when they did,
they all fell back hurriedly on the reserves at Pimgate.

[Illustration: THE BATTLEFIELD OF MANCHESTER.]

Then the commander of the piquet at Cheadle Hulme Station, finding that
he must inevitably be attacked by road and rail, set the station on
fire, and with the assistance of the railway officials blew up a large
portion of the permanent way with dynamite, thus cutting off the enemy's
means of communication. This accomplished, he fell back upon his
supports at Adswood, and they, at about 2 A.M., retreated with the
reserves to the embankment of the North-Western Railway which carries
the line from Stockport to Whaley Bridge, and took up a strong position
to assist in the defence of Stockport.

The latter town was defended on three sides by railway embankments,
which were now occupied by strong bodies of Regulars, with several
Maxims. One embankment ran from the west boundary of the town to
Middlewood Junction, another from Middlewood to Marple, and a third from
Marple to Mayercroft. Throughout the night the defenders were in hourly
expectation that an attack would be made upon their positions, with the
object of investing Stockport as a preliminary to the assault on the
defensive lines north of the Mersey; but the enemy apparently had other
objects, and the disaster to the British cavalry patrol on the Wilmslow
road was, unfortunately, followed by a second and more serious one. The
Cossacks and Dragoons that followed the British cavalry scouts overtook
them just as they had joined their reserves, a short distance beyond
Pimgate, about half-past two. A fierce fight ensued, and the force of
British cavalry and infantry was gradually drawn into a
cunningly-devised trap, and then there suddenly appeared a great force
of Russians, who simply swept down upon them, slaughtering the whole of
them with brutal ferocity, not, however, before they had fought
desperately, and inflicted enormous loss upon the enemy.

Having totally annihilated that detachment of defenders, the Russians
marched into Cheadle, and, after sacking the little town, burned it,
together with the Grange, the Print Works, the railway station, St.
Mary's Church, and a number of large mills.

The great army of the Tsar had bivouaced, reserving its strength for a
desperate dash upon Manchester. But the British outposts stood wakeful
and vigilant, ready at any moment to sound the alarm. To those
entrenched beyond the winding Mersey, soaked by the heavy rain, and
spending the dark hours in anxiety, there came over the dismal country
the sound of distant rifle-firing mingling with the roll of the thunder.
Ere long they knew that every man would be fighting for his life against
the great hordes of invaders who would descend upon them swiftly and
mercilessly. Across the country from the Peak away to Chester, the
Briton bravely faced his foe, anxious and vigilant, awaiting
breathlessly the progress of events.

Thus passed the stormy, oppressive night, till the grey dawn of a
fateful day.




CHAPTER XXIV.

MANCHESTER ATTACKED BY RUSSIANS.


With the first streak of daylight the anxious, excited crowds of men and
women, surging up and down the principal streets of Manchester, were
alarmed by the sounds of heavy firing. A terrible panic instantly
ensued. The battle had actually commenced!

Half-starved operatives, with pale, wan faces, stood in groups in
Deansgate, Market Street, Piccadilly, and London Road, while men, armed
with any weapons they could obtain, rushed out along the main roads to
the south of the city to assist in its defence. Lancashire men exhibited
commendable patriotism, even though they had not hesitated to criticise
the administration of our War Department; for now at the critical hour
not a man flinched from his duty, both old and young taking up arms for
their country's honour.

During the eventful night at all approaches to the city from the south
the roads had been thrown into a state of hasty defence. A formidable
barricade had been constructed at a point in the Stretford Road close to
the Botanical Gardens to prevent the enemy from advancing up the Chester
or Stretford New Roads; another was thrown up at the junction of
Chorlton Road, Withington Road, Upper Chorlton Road, and Moss Lane West;
a third opposite Rusholme Hall prevented any march up the Wilmslow Road;
while others of minor strength blocked the Anson Road close to the Elms,
the London Road at Longsight, the Hyde Road opposite Belle Vue Prison,
and at Ivy Place in the Ashton Old Road.

These had all been raised out of any materials that came to hand.
Barrels, brick rubbish, planks, doors, flooring of houses hastily torn
up, and scaffold poles lashed together; in fact, the barriers were huge
piles of miscellaneous and portable articles, even furniture from
neighbouring houses being utilised, while lengths of iron railings and
wire torn from fences played an important part in these hastily-built
defences. Behind them, armed with rifles, shot-guns, pistols, knives,
and any other weapon that came handiest, the men of Manchester waited,
breathlessly impatient in the expectation of attack.

As dawn spread bright and rosy, and the mist cleared from the low
meadows beside the Mersey, the distant firing was continuous, and the
one or two shells that fell and burst in the centre of the city were
precursory of an awful sanguinary struggle. Scarcely a person in that
densely populated area had slept that night, and the streets were
everywhere full, the most exciting and heartrending scenes being
witnessed.

A great crowd that assembled in Albert Square was addressed by the Mayor
from the steps of the Town Hall, and urged to strain every muscle to
drive back the invaders, in order that the disaster at Birmingham should
not be repeated. Even as he spoke, in the interval of wild cheering and
the energetic singing of the National Anthem and "Rule, Britannia," the
distant crackling of rifles and the low booming of field guns could be
heard.

It was the din of battle--the catastrophe caused by the cunning spy Von
Beilstein, who was still living in luxury in London, and who still posed
as the friend of Geoffrey Engleheart and Violet Vayne!

Geoffrey was still with the Volunteers assisting in the defence of
London, but the French spy who had sent the forged orders to our Navy
had apparently made good his escape.

Here, in Manchester, the sound of the guns aroused that patriotic
enthusiasm latent in the heart of every Briton. True, they were weary,
famished, ill from lack of food, yet they were fiercely determined that
the invader should never tread their streets, nor should incendiaries
burn or Russian artillery destroy their handsome buildings--monuments of
England's wealth and greatness. In St. Peter's Square, at a mass meeting
attended by nearly twelve thousand people, a demonstration was made
against the enemy, and it was resolved that every man should act his
part in the struggle, and that no quarter should be shown the legions of
the Tsar; while at another impromptu meeting held in Piccadilly, in the
open space opposite the Infirmary, the conduct of the Russians before
Birmingham was denounced; and some speakers, using violent language,
lashed their hearers into a frenzy of mad excitement, causing an eager
rush to the barricades in readiness for the terrible fray.

As the sun shone out pale and yellow in the stormy sky, the fighting
spread quickly down the Mersey banks from Haughton away to Flixton. It
became fiercest around Stockport, and over the level pastures the white
smoke of rifles puffed from every bush, wall, and fence.

The Russians were the superior force, for, while all were trained
soldiers, not more than a third of the defenders had taken the Queen's
shilling, and not more than half of them had ever had an hour's drill in
their lives. They were simply volunteers who had found their own arms
and banded for the defence of their homes.

The soldiers of the Tsar, trained under the most rigorous discipline,
had considerably improved in tactics, in drill, and in munitions of war
since the Crimea,--a fact overlooked by the majority of Britons,--and
they had now taken possession of every strategical position where
batteries might be established. After fierce fighting over Lyme Park
across to Norbury Hall, in which the Russians lost very heavily owing to
the British gun fire from the railway embankment, a great charge was
made by an enormous body of infantry, who succeeded, after several
futile attempts, in carrying the position, and driving the British
artillerymen back to the road which runs from Stockport to Marple.

The embankment which thus fell into the hands of the Muscovite infantry
formed one of the strongest defences of Stockport, therefore they at
once moved the guns up towards Davenport Station, and commenced shelling
the city with the defenders' own guns!

The panic caused in Stockport was awful, when without warning shells
commenced to explode in the crowded barricaded streets, but the Russians
were not allowed to have things their own way for long. The British
batteries on the opposite railway embankment between Heaton Norris and
New Mills formed up at the junction almost opposite Davenport, and
opened a terrific fire upon the captured guns.

For half an hour this continued, and the Russians, standing in an
exposed position right on the sky-line, were being swept away by British
shells, when suddenly the enemy were joined by reinforcements, whereupon
a small force of British infantry, who had been brought quickly along,
unperceived by the enemy from Marple, suddenly swarmed up the embankment
at Norbury, and, charging along to the Russian position, added a strong
rifle fire to that of their artillery.

The officer commanding the British batteries watched the infantry
advance through his field glass, and in a few minutes suddenly ceased
his fire, so as to allow the infantry to make the dash for which they
were preparing. A heliograph signal was flashed from the batteries, and
then, without hesitation, the order was given to charge.

It was a terribly exciting moment. If they succeeded they would in all
probability save Stockport. If they were driven back the town was
doomed.

With admirable pluck the British rushed upon the guns, and for a few
minutes there was a fierce struggle hand to hand. Russians, although
making a most desperate stand, were every moment being impaled on
British bayonets, or, pierced by bullets, they rolled down the <DW72>s
into ditches covered in stagnant slime. Hacked to pieces by the small
but gallant force of Britons, the enemy were forced at last to give in
and retire, leaving more than half their number killed; but with
admirable tact, the fugitives were forced down the bank nearest the
British batteries. Thus they fell into a trap, for as soon as they
attempted to recover themselves, and make a dash to reorganise their
line of communications, two British Maxims uttered their sharp rattle,
and the whole force were simply mowed down where they stood.

The fight had been a most desperate one, but, thanks to the heroic
charge of the British infantry, Stockport was again safe, and the guns
once more in the hands of her defenders.

Meanwhile, fighting of the fiercest possible description was taking
place across the meadows lying between Norbury and Bramhall, and the
Russians, unable to withstand the withering British fire, were gradually
forced back to Cheadle Hulme, where they were surprised by the defenders
and utterly routed. So great was the slaughter, that it is estimated
that in this engagement alone, after the recapture of the guns by the
British, over 4000 Russians were shot down and 3000 taken prisoners!

The Russians, finding how desperate was the resistance, and how heavily
they were losing, quickly brought up strong reinforcements upon Cheadle,
and, after a fiercely-contested conflict, succeeded in driving back the
small British force, they being compelled to retreat back over the
Mersey to Parr's Wood and Didsbury, afterwards blowing up the bridges,
and keeping up a hot fire from the bank, where a large body of
Volunteers were already entrenched. By this means, although they were
unable to save Cheadle from being burned, they succeeded, by reason of
the excellence of their position and the admirable tactics they
displayed, in mowing down another 2000 of the Tsar's soldiers. In this
instance the laurels remained with a portion of the Manchester Volunteer
Brigade, the effect of whose rifle fire was appalling.

It was now about ten o'clock, and the sky had cleared for a brilliant
day. At Chapel-en-le-Frith a large detachment of Cossacks had been swept
away by a body of British Hussars who had suddenly descended upon
Whitehough, while almost at the same moment a British battery that had
been hastily established on Chinley Churn succeeded in wiping out a
body of infantry that was advancing with all speed in the neighbourhood
of Yeardsley Hall. But one of the most sanguinary portions of the battle
was the conflict which spread westward from Cheadle across to
Altrincham, Lymm, and Warrington. Already Altrincham had fallen. The
fine villas of wealthy Manchester tradesmen and manufacturers, deserted
by their owners, had been entered by the uncouth Muscovites and sacked.
Every nook and corner had been searched for plate, jewellery, and money,
paintings had been ruthlessly torn down, furniture broken and burned,
and Russian troopers had made merry in many a handsome drawing-room. Old
Field Hall and Timperly Hall had both been ransacked and set on fire
with petroleum, while every house at Dunham Massey had been destroyed by
incendiaries.

Elated over their successes, the Russians were collecting their forces
preparatory to a decisive rush over the Mersey to Stretford, intending
to take that place, and advance by that route upon Manchester. The
defenders, who had been warned of this through spies, awaited their
chance, and suddenly, when the Russians least expected an attack, a body
of British cavalry, backed by infantry, crossed the Mersey, and sweeping
down the level turnpike road to Sale, came upon their opponents before
they were aware of their presence. The effect of this was frightful. A
small body of British Hussars, with some Lancashire Yeomanry, made a
splendid charge, exhibiting magnificent courage, and cut their way clean
through the Russian lines with irresistible force; while the infantry,
advancing cautiously, and taking every advantage of the small cover
afforded on that level country, poured forth a deadly rifle fire.
Indeed, so gallant was this charge, that the Tsar's forces were almost
annihilated. They endeavoured to make a stand near the cross-roads
leading from Carrington Moss, but the rifle fire of the defenders was so
heavy that they dropped by hundreds under the deadly rain of British
bullets.

The disaster to the Russians being signalled back by them to their
reserves at Tatton Park and around Knutsford, had the effect of bringing
up an enormous force of infantry. Signallers were at work in all
directions, and those who watched the progress of the action found the
next two hours full of exciting moments. It was apparent at once that
the Russians had marked out Stretford as the gate by which they intended
to enter Manchester, but they must have been misled by their spies as to
the strength of the defenders in this direction.

Indeed, if they had surveyed the whole of the southern line defending
the city, they could not have discovered a point more strongly
fortified; therefore it was a somewhat curious fact that they should
have concentrated their forces upon that part. Possibly it was because
they had formed an opinion by studying their Ordnance Maps--so
generously provided for them by the British Department of Agriculture at
a cost of one shilling each--that, if they succeeded in breaking the
defence at Stretford, they would also secure the road running in a
circular direction up to Barton, by which means they could enter
Manchester by way of Eccles, Pendleton, and Salford at the same time as
the march through Trafford. Such a design was, of course, cleverly
planned. It must be admitted that, from a strategical point of view, the
taking of Stretford would mean the fall of Manchester, a fact which the
Russian commanding officer had not overlooked.

But the soldiers of the Tsar had reckoned without their hosts. They only
saw along the Mersey a thin and apparently weak line of defence, a
massing of defenders without undue ostentation and without any
particular show of strength. A balloon sent up by the Russians to
reconnoitre from Sale had been fired at and brought down by the
defenders, but with this exception scarcely a shot had been fired north
of the Mersey. Britons were watching and waiting. Their foe, ridiculing
the idea that a town like Manchester, almost utterly devoid of positions
whereon batteries might be established, could be successfully defended,
therefore kept up a desultory fire upon the British detachment that had
swept away their advance guard, in the meantime covering the massing of
their enormous force. This latter consisted of Cossacks, guards,
infantry, artillery, and two companies of engineers, with pontoon
sections, as well as a ballooning party and two field hospitals.

The British detachment that had crossed the river were, however, unaware
of the enemy's intention until too late. The manoeuvres of the Russians
were being watched by a British balloon sent up from Old Trafford, but
the signals made by the aeronaut were unfortunately unobserved by the
party, so desperately were they fighting; otherwise a disaster which
befell them on the sudden rush of the enemy towards the river might
possibly have been averted. However, no blame could be attached to the
officer in charge of the detachment. The men acted their part bravely,
and displayed that courage of which the Briton speaks with justifiable
pride, even though, alas! they fell, every one of them fighting till the
last, their bodies being afterwards frightfully mangled by horses'
hoofs, as hundreds of Cossacks rode over them. Not a man of that party
escaped, but each one had once more shown the world what pluck and
courage could accomplish, and had gone to his grave as a sacrifice for
his country and his Queen.




CHAPTER XXV.

GALLANT DEEDS BY CYCLISTS.


Noon came and went. The fighting grew fiercer around Manchester, and the
excitement more intense within the barricaded, starving city. Through
the wildly agitated crowds of women of all classes, from manufacturers'
wives to factory girls, who moved up and down Deansgate, Market Street,
and many other principal thoroughfares, feverishly anxious for the
safety of their husbands and brothers manning the improvised defences,
rumours of terrible disaster spread like wildfire, and caused loud
wailing and lamentation.

Now rumour told of huge British successes away beyond the Mersey, a
report which elated the pale-faced hungry ones, but this being followed
quickly by a further report that a force of the defenders had been cut
up and utterly annihilated outside Eccles, the cheering died away, and
give place to deep, long-drawn sighs and murmurings of despair.

Upon the dusty, perspiring throngs the hot noonday sun beat down
mercilessly, the low rumbling of artillery sounded gradually closer and
more distinct, and the smoke of burning buildings in Sale and Altrincham
slowly ascending hung in the clear sky a black ominous cloud.

By about two o'clock the line of defence south of the Mersey had been
nearly all withdrawn, leaving, however, the defending line running
south-east of Stockport to Buxton and the Peak. Although Cheadle had
fallen into the enemy's hands, an English battery, established near
the railway at Bamford, commanded the road from Cheadle to Stockport,
and British infantry, supported by artillery, were strongly entrenched
from Bramhall Moor through Norbury, Poynton, Wardsend, Booth Green, and
Bollington, then turning east through Macclesfield Forest to Buxton.
This line was being hourly strengthened, and although not strong enough
to take the offensive, it was too strong for the Russians to attack.

[Illustration: GALLANT STAND BY CYCLISTS IN PARR WOOD.]

All the bridges over the Mersey, from Glazebrook to Stockport, had been
prepared for demolition, but it was not intended to carry this out
except as a last resource. Cavalry and cyclist scouts who were left on
the south of the Mersey had withdrawn across the bridges, after
exchanging shots with the skirmishers of the advance guards of the enemy
who quickly lined the banks. The bridges north of Cheadle were then
blown up, and the defenders were well posted in Parr Wood, near where it
was believed the enemy would attempt to ford the river. The Russians
contented themselves with exchanging a few shots with the defenders
until half an hour later, when some of their batteries had been
established, and then the passage of the Mersey at Northenden was
commenced, under cover of the guns of the Russians near the Convalescent
Hospital, north of Cheadle.

As soon as the Russian scouts approached the river three British
outposts could be seen in the wood. They were, however, driven in by
some Cossacks, who forded the river and attempted to enter the wood, but
were all immediately killed by hidden skirmishers. The Russian engineers
were meanwhile busy building a pontoon bridge, which they soon
completed, and they then crossed after a short opposition, rapidly
deploying to right and left in order to surround Didsbury.

This, the first force to cross the Mersey, consisted of two battalions
of the Kazan Regiment and two battalions of the Vladimir, with two
9-pounder and one 6-pounder field batteries and 100 cavalry. Didsbury
had been put in a state of hasty defence, and was held by two battalions
of the defenders, who also established a Volunteer battery at Bank
Hall, and lined the railway embankment in force as far as
Chorlton-with-Hardy.

The enemy's battery at the Convalescent Home had rendered the wood
almost untenable, but it was soon silenced by the well-directed fire of
the British Volunteer battery, and the wood was then re-entered by the
defenders. By this time, however, a large number of the enemy had taken
up positions in it, and the British were once more gradually driven
back.

One section, consisting of six cyclists, with a light machine gun
mounted on a double cycle, was told off under Sergeant Irons of the
Royal Lancaster, to defend a junction of two paths about half-way
through the dense wood, and as the latter was still occupied by the
defenders, the enemy could only make slow progress, and the cavalry
could only move by the paths.

Irons, taking advantage of a bend in the path, dismounted his men, who,
having drawn up their cycles under cover, were formed up each side of
the road to support the gun. About thirty Russian dragoons, with their
infantry, who were working through the wood, were soon upon them, and,
seeing such a small force barring the way, the cavalry charged.

They, however, met with such a terribly hot reception that only two
reached the guns, and these were immediately shot. The stand made by
these seven men was a most noteworthy instance of the indomitable
courage of the defenders. In those critical moments they remained calm
and collected, obeying the orders of their sergeant as coolly as if they
had been drilling in the barrack square. But their position was one of
momentarily increasing peril, for bullets whistled about them, and the
force against them was an overwhelming one. The Russian horses and men
who had fallen blocked the road, and Irons therefore gave the order to
fall in, as the sound of firing had now drawn many of the enemy's
skirmishers towards the spot.

Irons then re-formed his squad, one of whom had been shot and another
wounded, and, taking the wounded man with them, retired. Just as they
were moving off the corporal was wounded in the shoulder, and Irons
himself received a bullet in the left arm. About two hundred yards
nearer Didsbury there was a clearing, with farm buildings on both sides
of the road, and these had been loopholed and occupied by a small force
of Volunteers. Irons, sending the wounded man on to Didsbury, remained
here with his gun, and a few minutes later the position was vigorously
attacked.

The conflict which ensued was of the fiercest description. The mere
handful of defenders fought with such desperate courage that the great
body of Russians which surrounded them were from the first moment
gradually swept away by the steady and precise fire from the farm.
Around the buildings the enemy swarmed in overwhelming numbers, but
every man who showed himself was promptly picked off by Britons shooting
almost as coolly as if they were competing for prizes at Bisley.

Sergeant Irons' small machine gun, with its single barrel, rattled out
continuously, shedding its rain of lead in all directions, while from
muzzles of Martini rifles peeping over walls and from windows there came
a continuous stream of bullets, which played frightful havoc with the
foe. Within the first ten minutes two men of the defending force had
been shot dead and one wounded; still, their comrades never lost heart,
for they were determined that their position should never fall into the
enemy's hands. The Russian officer who was directing the operations of
the attacking party rose and shouted in Russian to encourage his men,
but in a moment an English bullet struck him, and, with a loud cry, he
fell forward over the body of a dragoon, shot through the heart.

The stand the cyclists and their companions made was unparalleled. They
fought on heroically, knowing the importance of the position they held,
and how, if it were taken, other and more serious British casualties
must follow. Firing steadily and with caution, they displayed such
bravery that even the Russians themselves were compelled to secretly
admire them; and at last, after nearly half an hour's desperate
fighting, the Tsar's soldiers found themselves so terribly cut up that
they were forced to retire, leaving more than half their number dead
and many wounded.

While this had been in progress, the British battery had totally
destroyed the Russian pontoon, and thus all means of retreat for this
portion of the invading force were cut off. About ten thousand men had
crossed the river at this point, and although they had deployed at
first, they had all been gradually driven into the wood by the fire from
the railway embankment.

As soon as the pontoon was destroyed, the British commenced to advance
through the wood, slowly driving back the Russians, who then endeavoured
to make for Stretford along the north bank of the river; but on seeing
their intention a brigade of defenders was immediately pushed along the
railway, and two regiments of cavalry were hurried down the road to
Chorlton.

These succeeded in heading the enemy, and, suddenly swooping down, they
destroyed the rest of the Cossacks who had escaped from the wood, as
well as the remainder of the force who had attacked the farm.

Another British battery was then hurried forward, and after a stubborn
fight the remainder of the invaders who had crossed surrendered.

In this attack alone the Russians lost in killed and wounded 200 cavalry
and nearly 2000 infantry and artillery, while Stretford and Stockport
still remained safe. But along the long line east and west the battle
raged with increasing fierceness. The conflict was a terrible one on
every hand.

The town of Lymm had been sacked, and was now burning, while hundreds of
unoffending men, women, and children living in the quiet Cheshire
villages had been wantonly massacred by the Muscovites. The latter were,
however, now suffering well-merited punishment, for in this bloody
battle they were falling dead in hundreds.

The Russian Eagle was at last being forced to bite the dust!




CHAPTER XXVI.

GREAT BATTLE ON THE MERSEY.


The long blazing day was one of many battles and much toilsome combat.

Fighting spread over a front of nearly nine miles, and during the
engagement one wing of the Russians was swung across three miles. Hour
after hour the tremendous warfare raged between the armies of Queen
Victoria and the Tsar, and the bloodshed was everywhere terrible.

Small parties of the Russian Telegraph Corps had ferried over the Ship
Canal and the Mersey near Latchford, and wires were run out, and posts
established connecting the headquarters at Altrincham, on the south of
the river, with the well-advanced guard stations on the Liverpool Road
towards Manchester at Woolstone, Hollinfare, and Lower Irlam.

Sending forth a huge division of infantry upon his left, and three
brigades of cavalry in the centre, the Russian General struck hard at
the British line between Stretford and Chorlton-with-Hardy.

Meanwhile, beyond Ashton-on-Mersey the battle was also growing in
intensity, and rifle and cannon were noisily engaged. A strong force of
Russian infantry was at once pushed across to Partington, where they
succeeded in crossing the Ship Canal and the Mersey, subsequently
joining their advance guard at Lower Irlam.

The British reserves at Newton-in-Makerfield, however, swept down upon
them, and a terrible fight quickly ensued. The defenders advanced very
steadily by section rushes, keeping under good firing discipline as they
went, and the enemy were driven on towards Flixton, where they were
simply swept away by the 12-pounder batteries established there, while
at the same time their wires crossing the Mersey were cut, and
communication with their headquarters thus interrupted.

While this was in progress, another and more important attack was being
made on Stretford. The heavy artillery fire and the affairs of outposts
in the earlier stages of the battle had been followed by a
carefully-regulated long-range fire of infantry on both sides.

The tactics the Russians had displayed were as follows:--They had
gradually developed their infantry in front of the Stretford position,
and brought their pontoons in readiness for a dash over the river. Then,
after some tentative movements, designed to feel the strength of our
forces massed at this important point, they apparently determined to
carry it at any cost.

On their right flank the enemy were losing very heavily. A telegraphic
message received at Altrincham gave the headquarters alarming news of
constant reverses. A strong force of infantry marching along the banks
of the Etherow from Compstall, intending to get to Hyde by way of
Mottram and Godley Junction, had been attacked by British infantry and a
couple of 9-pounders, and totally annihilated; while at the same time,
about a thousand men attacking a British battery on the hill at
Charlesworth had been cut up and forced to retreat, being followed by
some Lancers right down to Ludworth Houses, where they were nearly all
killed or wounded.

Indeed, times without number during that memorable day the Russians made
fierce attacks upon our positions on the edge of the Peak district, but
on each occasion they were hurled back with fearful loss by the thin
line of defenders holding the high ground.

A battery we had established on the crown of the hill at Werneth was
charged again and again by Cossacks and Dragoons, but our men,
displaying cool courage at the critical moments, fought desperately, and
mowed down the foe in a manner that was remarkable.

The Russians, having decided to carry Stretford, were making vigorous
demonstrations towards the Peak, and in the direction of Flixton, in
order to distract our attention. They occupied us at many points in the
vast semicircle, and by thus engaging us all along the line, endeavoured
apparently to prevent us from reinforcing the point at Stretford which
they intended gaining. Both invaders and defenders gradually extended in
order to meet outflanking movements, and this was the cause of another
sudden British success. It was a foregone conclusion that such an
extension would exceed the limits of defensive power on one side or the
other, and then blows would be struck with the object of breaking the
too extended line.

What occurred is, perhaps, best related by one of the special
correspondents of the _Daily News_, who, in his account of the battle,
published two days later, said--

"About three o'clock I was at Barton with the force of infantry who were
holding the road to Warrington, when we unexpectedly received
telegraphic information from headquarters of a rapid extension of the
enemy's left flank. A brigade which I accompanied was pushed on at once
down to Hollinfare, where we reinforced those who had been so successful
in cutting up the enemy at Lower Irlam half an hour before. We then
extended along the Liverpool Road, past Warrington, as far as Widnes. I
remained with a small detachment at Hollinfare awaiting developments,
when suddenly we were informed that the enemy had thrown a pontoon
bridge over the Mersey at its confluence with the Bollin, and that a
great body of infantry, with machine guns, had left Lymm, where they had
been lying inactive, and were already crossing. There were not more than
one hundred of us, mostly men of the Loyal Lancashire from Preston and a
few of the Manchester Regiment; but at the word of command we dashed
down the road for nearly a mile, and then leaving it, doubled across the
fields to Rixton Old Hall, where we obtained cover.

"The Russians had chosen the most advantageous spot they could find to
cross, for on the opposite bank there was a small thick wood, and in
this they remained quite concealed until they suddenly dashed out and
got across. Numbers had already reached our side and were deploying,
when our rifles spoke out sharply, and, judging from the manner in which
the enemy were exposed, our fire was quite unexpected. About thirty of
our men, kneeling behind a wall, kept up a vigorous fire, emptying their
magazines with excellent effect upon the grey-coats swarming over the
improvised bridge.

"Still it was impossible to keep them back, for the force effecting a
passage was very much larger than we had anticipated.

"A few minutes later, having ascertained the extent of the attack, our
signallers opened communication with Higher Irlam, and the information
was conveyed on to Barton, whence the heliograph flashed the news down
to Stretford.

"Suddenly, however, in the midst of a shady clump of trees there was a
loud rattle and continuous flashing. The enemy had brought a
10-barrelled Nordenfelt into play, and it was raining bullets upon us at
the rate of a thousand a minute!

"The wall behind which I was crouching was struck by a perfect hail of
lead, and there was a loud whistling about my ears that was particularly
disconcerting. Nevertheless our men had in their sudden dash for the
defence secured an excellent position, and only three were killed and
five wounded by this sudden outburst.

"The struggle during the next few minutes was the most desperate I have
ever witnessed. At the moment of peril our men displayed magnificent
pluck. They seemed utterly unconcerned at their imminent danger, and lay
or crouched, firing independently with calm precision. A dozen or so
fell wounded, however, and a sergeant who knelt next to me, and who was
shooting through a hole in the wall, was shot through the heart, and
fell dead while in the act of making an observation to me.

"The men who had attacked us were a fierce-looking set, mostly composed
of Tchuwakes and Mordwa from the central district of the Volga, and
renowned as among the best infantry that the Tsar can command.

"Rifles bristled from every bit of cover around us, and it was really
marvellous that we scored such success. Indeed, it was only by reason of
the courageous conduct of every individual man that the successful stand
was made against such overwhelming numbers. We knew that if the enemy
forced the passage and annihilated us, they would then be enabled to
outflank our force, and get round to Eccles and Pendlebury--a disaster
which might result in the rapid investment of Manchester. Therefore we
fought on, determined to do our very utmost to stem the advancing tide
of destroyers.

"Time after time our rifles rattled, and time after time the deadly
Nordenfelt sent its hail of bullets around us. Presently, however, we
heard increased firing on our right, and then welcome signals reached us
from Martinscroft Green. We greeted them with loud cheering, for a force
of our infantry and cavalry had returned along the road from Warrington,
and, working in extended order, were bearing down upon the foe.

"We ceased firing in that direction, and ere long we had the
satisfaction of seeing the enemy's pontoon blown up, and then, with
their retreat cut off, they became demoralised, and were driven into the
open, where we picked them off so rapidly that scarcely one man of the
1500 who had set his foot upon the Lancashire bank survived.

"From first to last our men fought magnificently. The whole engagement
was a brilliant and almost unequalled display of genuine British
bravery, and all I can hope is that the defenders of London will act
their part with equal courage when the decisive struggle comes."




CHAPTER XXVII.

THE FATE OF THE VANQUISHED.


While this vigorous attack on the right flank was in progress, the enemy
made a sudden dash upon Stretford.

The edge of the town itself--or rather suburb--lies but a short distance
from the Mersey, and the turnpike road runs straight away over the river
through Sale and Altrincham to Northwich. At the end of the town nearest
the river a road leading down from Barton joins the main road, and at
the junction is a large red-brick modern hotel, the Old Cock, while
adjoining is the Manchester Tramway Company's stable and terminus. At a
little distance behind lies a high embankment, which carries the railway
from Manchester to Liverpool, while the Mersey itself, though not wide,
has steep banks with earthworks thrown up to prevent floods. Hence the
force holding this position found ready-made defences which were now of
the utmost value.

The defenders here included three batteries of Royal Artillery, one
battalion of the Manchester Regiment, the 2nd Volunteer Battalion of the
same regiment, and one of the Lancashire Fusiliers, a field company of
Engineers, half the 14th (King's) Hussars with their machine gun
section, and a company of signallers. Trenches had been dug at various
points, and earthworks thrown up all along the line from Chorlton over
to Flixton. Across the junction of the two roads opposite the Old Cock a
great barricade had been constructed, and behind this was a powerful
battery that commanded the level country away towards Altrincham. The
bridges carrying the road and railway over the river had both been
demolished by engineers, and many other precautions had been taken to
prevent the enemy forcing a passage across.

At last, with a swiftness that was surprising, the expected assault was
made. Its strength was terrific, and the carnage on both sides
appalling.

The first dash across was effected by the Russians from the rifle range
near Old Hall, and this was rapidly followed by another from the bank
opposite the battery at Stretford, while further down a third attack was
made near Mersey House, close to Ashton.

Of the three, the strongest, of course, was that upon Stretford. The
enemy had, by a good deal of neat manoeuvring, brought their main body
within the triangle bounded on the one side by the road from Cheadle to
Altrincham, on the second by the road from the latter place to the
river, and the third by the river itself.

Pontoons were floated at many points, and while some cavalry forded the
river, infantry and artillery rapidly crossed in the face of a terrific
fire which was pouring upon them.

Smokeless powder being used, the positions of the invaders were not
obscured, and it could be seen that the British were effecting terrible
execution. Hundreds of the foe who were in the act of crossing were
picked off, and shells falling upon the pontoons destroyed them. The
latter, however, were quickly replaced, and the force of the Tsar, by
reason of the overwhelming numbers that had hurled themselves upon
Stretford, succeeded, after a desperately-contested fight, in breaking
the line of defence between Chorlton-with-Hardy and Fallowfield, and
advancing by short rushes upon Manchester.

But the British infantry in their trenches behaved splendidly, and made
the roads from Old Hall at Sale right along to Partington quite
untenable, so the continuous advance of the enemy cost them very dearly.

Russian shells bursting in Stretford killed and injured large numbers
of the defenders. Two of them struck the Old Cock in rapid succession,
almost completely demolishing it, but the debris was quickly manned, and
rifles soon spoke from its ruined walls. Again, a shell exploding in the
large tram stables, set a hay store on fire, and this burned furiously,
while away in the centre of the town the Public Library and a number of
shops in the vicinity had also been ignited in a similar manner.

At last the thousands of grey-coats swarming over the country fell in
such enormous numbers upon the British rifle pits on the Mersey bank,
that the first line of defence was at length utterly broken down; but in
doing this the enemy's front had become much exposed, whereupon the
Maxims on the railway embankment between the river and Barton suddenly
burst forth a perfect hail of bullets, and in a short time a whole
division of Russian infantry, cavalry, and artillery had been literally
swept out of existence.

The batteries down in the Stretford Road, combined with those on the
embankment, had up to this moment played greater havoc with the foe than
any other. The men of the Manchester Regiment, both Regulars and
Volunteers, were displaying the greatest coolness; but unfortunately the
Lancashire Fusiliers and the Loyal North Lancashire, who had manned the
trenches, had been partially annihilated, the majority lying dead, their
bodies scattered over the level fields and roads. Yet, notwithstanding
the strenuous opposition of the British batteries at this point, the
Russians were bringing up huge reinforcements from Altrincham, Cheadle,
and Northenden, and by establishing strong batteries commanding
Stretford, they at last, about five o'clock, succeeded in killing nearly
half the gallant defenders, and driving back the survivors up the Barton
Road.

The tide of grey-coats rushing onward, captured the British guns, and
although the batteries on the railway embankment still held out, and the
enemy suffered heavily from their Maxims, yet they pressed on into
Stretford town, and commenced to sack it. Messrs. Williams, Deacon's
Bank, was entered, the safes blown open, and large sums in gold and
notes abstracted, shops were entered and looted, and houses ransacked
for jewellery.

Thus Stretford fell.

Its streets ran with blood; and on, over the bodies of its brave
defenders, the hordes of the Great White Tsar marched towards
Manchester.

Meanwhile the British batteries on the railway embankment had also
fallen into the hands of the Russians, who were now driving the
survivors over towards Barton. They did not, however, retreat without a
most desperate resistance. A row of thatched and white-washed cottages
at the bend of the road they held for a long time, emptying their
magazine rifles with deadly effect upon their pursuers, but at last they
were driven north, and half an hour later joined their comrades who had
massed at Barton, but who had been attacked in great force and fallen
back in good order to Pendleton.

By this time the enemy, having pierced the line of outposts, had
occupied Barton and Eccles. At the former place they had set on fire a
number of factories, and out of mere desire to cause as much damage to
property as possible, they had blown up both the bridge that carried the
road over the Ship Canal, and also destroyed the magnificent swinging
aqueduct which carried the Bridgewater Canal over the other.

This great triumph of engineering--one of the most successful feats of
the decade--was blown into the air by charges of gun-cotton, and now lay
across the Ship Canal a heap of fallen masonry and twisted iron
cantilevers, while the water from the Bridgewater Canal was pouring out
in thousands of tons, threatening to flood the surrounding district, and
the church opposite had been wrecked by the terrific force of the
explosion.

A frightful panic had been caused in Manchester by these reverses. The
scenes in the streets were indescribable. At the barricades, however,
the enemy met with a desperate resistance.

Three great columns were marching on Manchester at that moment. The
first, having broken the line of defence near Fallowfield, divided into
two divisions; one, advancing up the Wilmslow Road, stormed the great
barricade opposite Rusholme Hall, while the other appeared on the
Withington Road, and commenced to engage the defences that had been
thrown across Moss Lane and Chorlton Road. The second column advanced to
where Eccles Old Road joins Broad Street at Pendleton; and the third,
sweeping along up the Stretford Road, met with a terrific resistance at
the Botanic Gardens at Trafford, the walls of which, on either side of
the road, were loopholed and manned by infantry and artillery; while
opposite, the Blind Asylum was held by a regiment of infantry, and a
strong barricade, with a battery of 12-pounders, had been established a
little further towards the city, at the junction of the Chester and
Stretford New Roads.

The enemy advanced here in enormous force; but, seeing the formidable
defences, a number of cavalry and infantry turned off along the Trafford
Road, blew up the bridge of the Ship Canal in order to prevent a
pursuing force of British cavalry from following, and after setting fire
to the great dock warehouses and crowd of idle ships, continued along to
Eccles New Road, where, however, they were met by another force of our
Hussars, and totally routed and cut up.

From this point the tide of battle turned. It was already half-past
five, and the sun was sinking when the Russian forces prepared for their
final onslaught. Cossacks and Dragoons charged again and again, and
infantry with bayonets fixed rushed onward to the barricades in huge
grey legions, only to be met by a sweeping rain of British bullets,
which filled the roads with great heaps of dead. In these defences,
rendered doubly strong by the patriotic action of the stalwart civilians
of Manchester, the invaders could make no breach, and before every one
of them they fell in thousands.

The men in the entrenchments saw the foe were falling back, and found
the attack growing weaker. Then signals were made, and they raised a
long hearty cheer when the truth was flashed to them.

[Illustration: RUSSIANS ATTACKING THE BARRICADE IN STRETFORD ROAD,
MANCHESTER.]

The news was inspiriting, and they fought on with redoubled energy, for
they knew that the great body of reserves from Ashton-under-Lyne, Hyde,
and Compstall, as well as those who had been occupying the hills on the
edge of the Peak, had been pushed right past Stretford to Barton, and
were now advancing like a huge fan, outflanking the Russians and
attacking them in their rear.

The British tactics were excellent, for while the invaders were attacked
by cavalry and infantry on the one side, the defenders manning the
barricades made a sudden sortie, cutting their way into them with
bayonet rushes which they could not withstand, and which had a terribly
fatal effect.

The Tsar's forces, unable to advance or retreat, and being thus
completely surrounded, still fought on, and as they refused to
surrender, were literally massacred by thousands by British troops,
while many guns and horses were captured, thousands of rounds of
ammunition seized, and many men taken prisoners.

The fight in that evening hour was the most fiercely contested of any
during that day. The fate of Manchester was in the hands of our gallant
soldiers, who, although necessarily losing heavily before such an
enormous army, behaved with a courage that was magnificent, and which
was deserving the highest commendation that could be bestowed.

As dusk gathered into darkness, the enemy were being forced back towards
the Mersey over the roads they had so recently travelled, but still
fighting, selling their lives dearly. The highways and fields were
strewn with their dead and dying, for while infantry fired into their
front from the cover of houses and walls, our cavalry, with whirling
sabres, fell upon them and hacked them to pieces. Neither Cossacks nor
Dragoons proved a match for our Hussars, Lancers, and Yeomanry, and even
in face of the machine guns which the Russians brought into play in an
endeavour to break the line and escape, our infantry dashed on with
grand and magnificent charges, quickly seizing the Nordenfelts, turning
their own guns against them, and letting loose a fire that mowed down
hundreds.

Across the neighbouring country our forces swept in good attack
formation, and all along that great line, nearly six miles in length,
the slaughter of Russians was frightful.

In the falling gloom fire flashed from the muzzles of rifles, cannon,
and machine guns, and far above the terrible din sounded shrill cries of
pain and hoarse shouts of despair as the great Army that had devastated
our beloved country with fire and sword was gradually annihilated. In
those roads in the south of the city the scenes of bloodshed were awful,
as a force of over 20,000 Russians were slaughtered because they would
not yield up their arms.

Outside Stretford a last desperate stand was made, but ere long some
British cavalry came thundering along, and cut them down in a frightful
manner, while about the same time a Russian flying column was
annihilated over at Davy-Hulme; away at Carrington a retreating brigade
of infantry which had escaped over the river was suddenly pounced upon
by the defenders and slaughtered; and at Altrincham the enemy's
headquarters were occupied, and the staff taken prisoners. Ere the
Russian General could be forced to surrender, however, he placed a
revolver to his head, and in full view of a number of his officers, blew
his brains out.

Then, when the moon shone out from behind a dark bank of cloud just
before midnight, she shed her pale light upon the wide battlefield on
both sides of the Mersey, whereon lay the bodies of no fewer than 30,000
Russians and 12,000 British, while 40,000 Russians and 16,000 British
lay wounded, nearly 10,000 Russians having been disarmed and marched
into the centre of the city as prisoners.

The victory had only been achieved at the eleventh hour by dint of great
courage and forethought, and being so swift and effectual it was
magnificent.

Manchester was safe, and the public rejoicings throughout that night
were unbounded.

The loss of life was too awful for reflection, for 12,000 of Britain's
heroes--men who had won the battle--were lying with their white lifeless
faces upturned to the twinkling stars.




_BOOK III_

_THE VICTORY_




CHAPTER XXVIII.

A SHABBY WAYFARER.


In Sussex the situation was now most critical. The struggle between the
French invaders and the line of Volunteers defending London was long and
desperate, but our civilian soldiers were bearing their part bravely,
showing how Britons could fight, and day after day repelling the
repeated assaults with a vigour that at once proved their efficiency.

Three days after the battle at Manchester had been fought and won, a man
with slouching gait and woeful countenance, attired in a cheap suit of
shabby grey, stood on the steps of the Granton Hotel, at Granton, and
with his hands thrust into his pockets gazed thoughtfully out over the
broad waters of the Firth of Forth, to where the Fifeshire hills loomed
dark upon the horizon. Slowly his keen eyes wandered away eastward to
the open sea, an extensive view of which he obtained from the flight of
steps whereon he stood, and then with a sigh of disappointment he
buttoned his coat, and, grasping his stick, descended, and walked at a
leisurely pace along the road through Newhaven to Leith.

"To-night. To-night at sundown!" he muttered to himself, as he bent his
head to the wind.

Involuntarily he placed his hand to his hip to reassure himself that a
letter he carried was still safe.

"Bah!" he continued, "I declare I feel quite timid to-night. Everything
is so quiet here; the houses look deserted, and everybody seems to have
left the place. Surely they can have no suspicion, and--and if they had?
What does it matter?--eh, what?"

Quickening his pace, he passed down the long, quaint street of Newhaven,
lined on each side by ancient fishermen's cottages, and then, crossing
the railway, passed under the wall of Leith Fort, whereon a couple of
sentries were pacing. Glancing up at the two artillerymen, with the
half-dozen obsolete guns behind them, and their background of
grass-grown mounds and buildings, the wayfarer smiled. He was thinking
how different would be the scene at this spot ere long.

Leith Fort was a sort of fortified back-garden. The railway ran close to
the sea, parallel with which was the highway, and upon higher ground at
the back was a block of buildings, before which a few black old cannon
were placed in formidable array, and in such a position as to be fully
exposed to any destructive projectiles fired from the sea.

On went the down-at-heel wayfarer, his shifty eyes ever on the alert,
viewing with suspicion the one or two persons he met. Apparently he was
expecting the arrival of some craft, for his gaze was constantly turned
towards the wide expanse of grey water, eager to detect the smallest
speck upon the horizon. Any one who regarded him critically might have
noticed something remarkable about his appearance, yet not even his most
intimate friends would have recognised in this broken-down, half-starved
clerk, who had arrived at Granton that morning, after tramping over from
Glasgow, the popular man-about-town, the Count von Beilstein!

"Those fools will soon be swept away into eternity," he muttered to
himself, as he glanced back in the direction of the fort. "They will
have an opportunity of tasting Russian lead, and of practising with
their guns, which are only fit for a museum. They mount guard to defend
an attack! Bah! They seek their own destruction, for no force can
withstand that which will presently appear to give them a sudden
rousing. They will be elevated--blown into the air, together with their
miserable guns, their barracks, and the whole of their antiquated
paraphernalia. And to me the world owes this national catastrophe! I am
the looker-on. These British have a proverb that the looker-on sees most
of the game. _Bien! that is full of truth._"

And he chuckled to himself, pursuing his way at the same pace, now and
then glancing back as if to assure himself that no one dogged his
footsteps. Darkness had crept on quickly as he passed along through the
open country at Fillyside and entered Portobello, the little
watering-place so popular with holiday makers from Edinburgh during the
summer. Along the deserted promenade he strolled leisurely from end to
end, and passing out of the town through Joppa, came at length to that
rugged shore between the Salt Pans and Eastfield. The tide was out, so,
leaving the road, he walked on in the darkness over the shingles until
he came to a small cove, and a moment later two men confronted him.

A few sentences in Russian were rapidly exchanged between the spy and
the men, and then the latter at once guided him to where a boat lay in
readiness, but concealed. Five minutes later the Count was being rowed
swiftly but silently away into the darkness by six stalwart men
belonging to one of the Tsar's battleships.

The oars dipped regularly as the boat glided onwards, but no word was
exchanged, until about twenty minutes later the men suddenly stopped
pulling, a rope thrown by a mysterious but vigilant hand whistled over
their heads and fell across them, and then they found themselves under
the dark side of a huge ironclad. It was the new battleship, _Admiral
Orlovski_, which had only just left the Baltic for the first time.
Without delay the spy climbed on board, and was conducted at once by a
young officer into the Admiral's private cabin.

A bearded, middle-aged man, in handsome naval uniform, who was poring
over a chart, rose as he entered. The spy, bowing, said briefly in
Russian--

"I desire to see Prince Feodor Mazaroff, Admiral of the Fleet."

"I am at your service, m'sieur," the other replied in French, motioning
him to a chair.

The Count, seating himself, tossed his hat carelessly upon the table,
explaining that he had been sent by the Russian Intelligence Department
as bearer of certain important documents which would materially assist
him in his operations.

"Yes," observed the Prince, "I received a telegram from the Ministry at
Petersburg before I left Christiansand, telling me to await you here,
and that you would furnish various information."

"That I am ready to do as far as lies in my power," replied the Count,
taking from his hip pocket a bulky packet, sealed with three great daubs
of black wax. This he handed to the Prince, saying, "It contains maps of
the country between Edinburgh and Glasgow, specially prepared by our
Secret Service, together with a marked chart of the Firth of Forth, and
full detailed information regarding the troops remaining to defend this
district."

The Admiral broke the seals, and glanced eagerly through the contents,
with evident satisfaction.

"Now, what is the general condition of the south of Scotland?" the
Prince asked, lounging back, twirling his moustache with a
self-satisfied air.

"Totally unprepared. It is not believed that any attack will be made.
The military left north of the Cheviots after mobilisation were sent
south to assist in the defence of Manchester."

"Let us hope our expedition to-night will meet with success. We are now
one mile east of Craig Waugh, and in an hour our big guns will arouse
Leith from its lethargy. You will be able to watch the fun from deck,
and give us the benefit of your knowledge of the district. Is the fort
at Leith likely to offer any formidable resistance?" continued the
Admiral. "I see the information here is somewhat vague upon that
point."

"The place is useless," replied the spy, as he stretched out his hand
and took a pencil and paper from the Prince's writing-table. "See! I
will sketch it for you. In the character of a starving workman who
desired to volunteer I called there, and succeeded in obtaining a good
view of the interior. They have a few modern guns, but the remainder are
old muzzleloaders, which against such guns as you have on board here
will be worse than useless." And as he spoke he rapidly sketched a plan
of the defences in a neat and accurate manner, acquired by long
practice. "The most serious resistance will, however, be offered from
Inchkeith Island, four miles off Leith. There has lately been
established there a new fort, containing guns of the latest type. A plan
of the place, which I succeeded in obtaining a few days ago, is, you
will find, pinned to the chart of the Firth of Forth."

The Admiral opened out the document indicated, and closely examined the
little sketch plan appended. On the chart were a number of small squares
marked in scarlet, surrounded by a blue circle to distinguish them more
readily from the dots of red which pointed out the position of the
lights. These squares, prepared with the utmost care by von Beilstein,
showed the position of certain submarine mines, a plan of which he had
succeeded in obtaining by one of his marvellous master-strokes of
finesse.

"Thanks to you, Count, our preparations are now complete," observed the
Prince, offering the spy a cigarette from his silver case, and taking
one himself. "Our transports, with three army corps, numbering nearly
60,000 men and 200 guns, are at the present moment lying 12 miles north
of the Bass Rock, awaiting orders to enter the Firth, therefore I think
when we land we shall"--

A ray of brilliant white light streamed for a moment through the port of
the cabin, and then disappeared.

The Prince, jumping to his feet, looked out into the darkness, and saw
the long beam sweeping slowly round over the water, lighting up the
ships of his squadron in rapid succession.

"The search-lights of Inchkeith!" he gasped, with an imprecation. "I had
no idea we were within their range, but now they have discovered us
there's no time to be lost. For the present I must leave you. You will,
of course, remain on board, and land with us"; and a moment later he
rushed on deck, and shouted an order which was promptly obeyed.

Suddenly there was a low booming, and in another second a column of dark
water rose as the first shot ricochetted about five hundred yards from
their bows. Orders shouted in Russian echoed through the ship, numbers
of signals were exchanged rapidly with the other vessels, and the sea
suddenly became alive with torpedo boats.

Time after time the British guns sounded like distant thunder, and shots
fell in the vicinity of the Russian ships. Suddenly, as soon as the men
were at their quarters, electric signals rang from the conning-tower of
the _Admiral Orlovski_, and one of her 56-tonners crashed and roared
from her turret, and a shot sped away towards where the light showed.
The noise immediately became deafening as the guns from nine other ships
thundered almost simultaneously, sending a perfect hail of shell upon
the island fort. In the darkness the scene was one of most intense
excitement.

For the first time the spy found himself amidst the din of battle, and
perhaps for the first time in his life his nerves were somewhat shaken
as he stood in a convenient corner watching the working of one of the
great guns in the turret, which regularly ran out and added its voice to
the incessant thunder.




CHAPTER XXIX.

LANDING OF THE ENEMY AT LEITH.


All the vessels were now under steam and approaching Inchkeith, when
suddenly two shells struck the _Admiral Orlovski_ amidships, carrying
away a portion of her superstructure.

Several of the other vessels were also hit almost at the same moment,
and shortly afterwards a torpedo boat under the stern of the flagship
was struck by a shell, and sank with all hands. Time after time the
Russian vessels poured out their storm of shell upon the fort, now only
about a mile and a half distant; but the British fire still continued as
vigorous and more effective than at first.

Again the flagship was struck, this time on the port quarter, but the
shot glanced off her armour into the sea; while a moment later another
shell struck one of her fighting tops, and, bursting, wrecked two of the
machine guns, and killed half a dozen unfortunate fellows who had manned
them. The debris fell heavily upon the deck, and the disaster, being
witnessed by the spy, caused him considerable anxiety for his own
safety.

Even as he looked he suddenly noticed a brilliant flash from one of the
cruisers lying a little distance away. There was a terrific report, and
amid flame and smoke wreckage shot high into the air. An explosion had
occurred in the magazine, and it was apparent the ship was doomed! Other
disasters to the Russians followed in quick succession. A cruiser which
was lying near the Herwit light-buoy blazing away upon the fort,
suddenly rolled heavily and gradually heeled over, the water around her
being thrown into the air by an explosion beneath the surface. A contact
mine had been fired, and the bottom of the ship had been practically
blown out, for a few minutes later she went down with nearly every soul
on board.

At the moment this disaster occurred, the _Admiral Orlovski_, still
discharging her heavy guns, was about half-way between the Briggs and
the Pallas Rock, when a search-light illuminated her from the land, and
a heavy fire was suddenly opened upon her from Leith Fort.

This was at once replied to, and while five of the vessels kept up their
fire upon Inchkeith, the three others turned their attention towards
Leith, and commenced to bombard it with common shell.

How effectual were their efforts the spy could at once see, for in the
course of a quarter of an hour, notwithstanding the defence offered by
Leith Fort and several batteries on Arthur's Seat, at Granton Point,
Wardie Bush, and at Seaside Meadows, near Portobello, fires were
breaking out in various quarters of the town, and factories and
buildings were now burning with increasing fury. The great paraffin
refinery had been set on fire, and the flames, leaping high into the
air, shed a lurid glare far away over the sea.

Shells, striking the Corn Exchange, wrecked it, and one, flying away
over the fort, burst in the Leith Distillery, with the result that the
place was set on fire, and soon burned with almost equal fierceness with
the paraffin works. The shipping in the Edinburgh, Albert, and Victoria
Docks was ablaze, and the drill vessel H.M.S. _Durham_ had been
shattered and was burning. A great row of houses in Lindsay Road had
fallen prey to the flames, while among the other large buildings on fire
were the Baltic Hotel, the great goods station of the North British
Railway, and the National Bank of Scotland.

In addition to being attacked from the forts on the island, and on land,
the Russians were now being vigorously fired upon by the British
Coastguard ship _Imperieuse_, which, with the cruiser _Active_, and the
gunboat cruisers _Cockchafer_, _Firm_, and _Watchful_, had now come
within range. Soon, however, the enemy were reinforced by several
powerful vessels, and in the fierce battle that ensued the British ships
were driven off. Then by reason of the reinforcements which the
Russians brought up, and the great number of transports which were now
arriving, the defence, desperate though it had been, alas! broke down,
and before midnight the invader set his foot upon Scottish soil.

[Illustration: POSITIONS FOR THE DEFENCE OF EDINBURGH.]

Ere the sun rose, a huge force of 60,000 men had commenced a march upon
Edinburgh and Glasgow!

Events on shore during that never-to-be-forgotten night were well
described by Captain Tiller of the Royal Artillery, stationed at Leith
Fort, who, in a letter written to his young wife at Carlisle, on the
following day, gave the following narrative:--

"Disaster has fallen upon us. The Russians have landed in Scotland, and
the remnant of our force which was at Leith has fallen back inland. On
Friday, just after nightfall, we were first apprised of our danger by
hearing heavy firing from the sea in the direction of Inchkeith Fort,
and all civilians were sent on inland, while we prepared for the fight.

"Very soon a number of ships were visible, some of them being evidently
transports, and as they were observed taking soundings, it was clear
that an immediate landing was intended. Fortunately it was a light
night, and while two Volunteer field batteries were sent out along the
coast west to Cramond and east to Fisherrow, we completed our
arrangements in the fort. With such antiquated weapons as were at our
disposal defeat was a foregone conclusion, and we knew that to annoy the
enemy and delay their landing would be the extent of our resistance.
Some of our guns were, of course, of comparatively recent date, and our
supply of ammunition was fair, but the Volunteer guns were antiquated
40-pounder muzzleloaders, which ought to have been withdrawn years ago,
and the gunners had had very little field training. The arrangements for
horsing the guns were also very inefficient, and they had no waggons or
transport. Most of our forces having been drawn south, the only infantry
available was a battalion and a half--really a provisional battalion,
for it was composed of portions of two Volunteer rifle regiments, with a
detachment of Regulars. Our Regular artillery detachment was,
unfortunately, very inadequate, for although the armament of the fort
had been recently strengthened, the force had been weakened just before
the outbreak of war by the despatch of an Indian draft.

"It was apparent that the enemy would not attempt to destroy our
position, but land and carry it by assault; therefore, while the
Inchkeith guns kept them at bay, we undermined our fort, opened our
magazines, and got ready for a little target practice.

"The Volunteer batteries sent eastward had been ordered to do what
execution they could, and then, in the case of a reverse, to retire
through Portobello and Duddingston to Edinburgh, and those on the west
were to go inland to Ratho; while we were resolved to hold the fort as
long as possible, and if at last we were compelled to retire we intended
to blow up the place before leaving.

"As soon as we found the Russian flagship within range, we opened fire
upon her, and this action caused a perfect storm of projectiles to be
directed upon us. The town was soon in flames, the shipping in the
harbour sank, and the martello tower was blown to pieces. Our
search-light was very soon brought into requisition, and by its aid some
of the boats of the enemy's transports were sunk, while others came to
grief on the Black Rocks.

"By this time the enemy had turned their search-lights in every
direction where they could see firing, and very soon our Volunteer
batteries were silenced, and then Granton harbour fell into the hands of
the enemy's landing parties. Having first rendered their guns useless,
the survivors fell back to Corstorphine Hill, outside Edinburgh, and we
soon afterwards received intelligence that the Russians were landing at
Granton in thousands. Meanwhile, although our garrison was so weak and
inexperienced, we nevertheless kept up a vigorous fire.

"We saw how Inchkeith Fort had been silenced, and how our Volunteer
batteries had been destroyed, and knew that sooner or later we must
share the same fate, and abandon our position. As boatload after
boatload of Russians attempted to land, we either sank them by shots
from our guns or swept them with a salvo of bullets from our Maxims; yet
as soon as we had hurled back one landing party others took its place.

"Many were the heroic deeds our gunners performed that night, as hand to
hand they fought, and annihilated the Russians who succeeded in landing;
but in this frightful struggle we lost heavily, and at length, when all
hope of an effective defence had been abandoned, we placed electric
wires in the magazine, and the order was given to retire. This we did,
leaving our search-light in position in order to deceive the enemy.

"Half our number had been killed, and we sped across to Bonnington,
running out a wire along the ground as we went. The Russians, now
landing rapidly in great force, swarmed into the fort and captured the
guns and ammunition, while a party of infantry pursued us. But we kept
them back for fully a quarter of an hour, until we knew that the fort
would be well garrisoned by the invaders; then we sent a current through
the wire.

"The explosion that ensued was deafening, and its effect appalling.
Never have I witnessed a more awful sight. Hundreds of tons of all sorts
of explosives and ammunition were fired simultaneously by the electric
spark, and the whole fort, with nearly six hundred of the enemy, who
were busy establishing their headquarters, were in an instant blown into
the air. For several moments the space around us where we stood seemed
filled with flying debris, and the mangled remains of those who a second
before had been elated beyond measure by their success.

"Those were terribly exciting moments, and for a few seconds there was a
cessation of the firing. Quickly, however, the bombardment was resumed,
and although we totally annihilated the force pursuing us, we fell back
to Restalrig, and at length gained the battery that had been established
on Arthur's Seat, and which was now keeping up a heavy fire upon the
Russian transports lying out in the Narrow Deep. Subsequently we went on
to Dalkeith. Our situation is most critical in every respect, but we are
expecting reinforcements, and a terrible battle is imminent."

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus the Russians landed three corps of 20,000 each where they were
least expected, and at once prepared to invest Edinburgh and Glasgow.
Three of the boats which came ashore at Leith that night, after the
blowing up of the fort, brought several large mysterious-looking black
boxes, which were handled with infinite care by the specially selected
detachment of men who had been told off to take charge of them. Upon the
locks were the official seals of the Russian War Office; and even the
men themselves, unaware of their contents, looked upon them with a
certain amount of suspicion, handling them very gingerly, and placing
them in waggons which they seized from a builder's yard on the outskirts
of the town.

The officers alone knew the character of these mysterious consignments,
and as they superintended the landing, whispered together excitedly. The
news of the invasion, already telegraphed throughout Scotland from end
to end, caused the utmost alarm; but had the people known what those
black boxes, the secret of which was so carefully guarded, contained,
they would have been dismayed and appalled.

Truth to tell, the Russians were about to try a method of wholesale and
awful destruction, which, although vaguely suggested in time of peace,
had never yet been tested in the field.

If successful, they knew it would cause death and desolation over an
inconceivably wide area, and prove at once a most extraordinary and
startling development of modern warfare. The faces of a whole army,
however brave, would blanch before its terrific power, and war in every
branch, on land and on sea, would become revolutionised.

But the boxes remained locked and guarded. The secret was to be kept
until the morrow, when the first trial was ordered to be made, and the
officers in charge expressed an opinion between themselves that a blow
would then be struck that would at once startle and terrify the whole
world.




CHAPTER XXX.

ATTACK ON EDINBURGH.


In attacking Edinburgh the besiegers at once discovered they had a much
more difficult task than they had anticipated. The Russian onslaught had
been carefully planned. Landing just before dawn, the 1st Corps,
consisting of about twenty thousand men, marched direct to Glasgow by
way of South Queensferry and Kirkliston, and through Linlithgow, sacking
and burning all three towns in the advance.

The 3rd Army Corps succeeded, after some very sharp skirmishing, in
occupying the Pentland Hills, in order to protect the flanks of the
first force, while a strong detachment was left behind to guard the base
at Leith. The 2nd Corps meanwhile marched direct upon Edinburgh.

The defenders, consisting of Militia, Infantry, Artillery, the local
Volunteers left behind during the mobilisation, and a large number of
civilians from the neighbouring towns, who had hastily armed on hearing
the alarming news, were quickly massed in three divisions on the
Lammermuir Hills, along the hills near Peebles, and on Tinto Hill, near
Lanark.

The Russian army corps which marched from Leith upon Edinburgh about
seven o'clock on the following morning met with a most desperate
resistance. On Arthur's Seat a strong battery had been established by
the City of Edinburgh Artillery, under Col. J. F. Mackay, and the 1st
Berwickshire, under Col. A. Johnston; and on the higher parts of the
Queen's Drive, overlooking the crooked little village of Duddingston,
guns of the 1st Forfarshire, under Col. Stewart-Sandeman, V.D., flashed
and shed forth torrents of bullets and shell, which played havoc with
the enemy's infantry coming up the Portobello and Musselburgh roads.
Batteries on the Braid and Blackford Hills commanded the southern
portion of the city; while to the west, the battery on Corstorphine Hill
prevented the enemy from pushing along up the high road from Granton.

Between Jock's Lodge and Duddingston Mills the Russians, finding cover,
commenced a sharp attack about nine o'clock; but discovering, after an
hour's hard fighting, that to attempt to carry the defenders' position
was futile, they made a sudden retreat towards Niddry House.

The British commander, observing this, and suspecting their intention to
make a circuit and enter the city by way of Newington, immediately set
his field telegraph to work, and sent news on to the infantry brigade at
Blackford.

This consisted mainly of the Queen's Volunteer Rifle Brigade (Royal
Scots), under Col. T. W. Jones, V.D.; the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th
Volunteer Battalions of the Royal Scots, under Col. W. U. Martin, V.D.,
Col. W. I. Macadam, Col. Sir G. D. Clerk, Col. P. Dods, and Col. G. F.
Melville respectively, with a company of engineers. The intelligence
they received placed them on the alert, and ere long the enemy extended
his flank in an endeavour to enter Newington. The bridges already
prepared for demolition by the defenders were now promptly blown up, and
in the sharp fight that ensued the enemy were repulsed with heavy loss.

Meanwhile the formidable division of the 3rd Russian Army Corps guarding
the base at Leith had attacked the Corstorphine position, finding their
headquarters untenable under its fire, and although losing several guns
and a large number of men, they succeeded, after about an hour's hard
fighting, in storming the hill and sweeping away the small but gallant
band of defenders.

The fight was long. It was a struggle to the death. Over the whole
historic battle-ground from the Tweed to the Forth, fighting spread, and
everywhere the loss of life was terrible.

The long autumn day passed slowly, yet hostilities continued as vigorous
and sanguinary as they had begun. Before the sun sank many a brave
Briton lay dead or dying, but many more Muscovites had been sent to that
bourne whence none return.

As it was, the British line of communications was broken between Temple
and Eddleston, the outposts at the latter place having been surprised
and slaughtered. But although the enemy strove hard to break down the
lines of defence and invest Edinburgh, yet time after time they were
hurled back with fearful loss. Colinton and Liberton were sacked and
burned by the Tsar's forces. On every hand the Russians spread death and
destruction; still the defenders held their own, and when the fighting
ceased after nightfall Edinburgh was still safe. Strong barricades
manned by civilians had been hastily thrown up near the station in Leith
Walk, in London Road opposite the Abbey Church, in Inverleith Row, in
Clerk Street and Montague Street, while all the bridges over the Water
of Leith had been blown up with gun-cotton; quick-firing guns had been
posted on Calton Hill and at the Castle, while in St. Andrew's Square a
battery had been established by the 1st Haddington Volunteer Artillery,
under Major J. J. Kelly, who had arrived in haste from Dunbar, and this
excellent position commanded a wide stretch of country away towards
Granton.

At dead of night, under the calm, bright stars, a strange scene might
have been witnessed. In the deep shadow cast by the wall of an old and
tumble-down barn near the cross-roads at Niddry, about three miles from
Edinburgh, two Russian infantry officers were in earnest conversation.
They stood leaning upon a broken fence, talking in a half-whisper in
French, so that the half-dozen privates might not understand what they
said. The six men were busy unpacking several strange black cases,
handling the contents with infinite care. Apparently three of the boxes
contained a quantity of fine silk, carefully folded, while another
contained a number of square, dark-looking packages, which, when taken
out, were packed in order upon a strong net which was first spread upon
the grass. Ropes were strewn over the ground in various directions, the
silk was unfolded, and presently, when all the contents had been
minutely inspected by the two officers with lanterns, a small tube was
taken from a box that had remained undisturbed, and fastened into an
object shaped like a bellows.

Then, when all preparations were satisfactorily completed, the six men
threw themselves upon the grass to snatch an hour's repose, while the
officers returned to their previous positions, leaning against the
broken fence, and gravely discussing their proposals for the morrow's
gigantic sensation. The elder of the two was explaining to his companion
the nature of the _coup_ which they intended to deliver, and the mode in
which it would be made. So engrossed were they in the contemplation of
the appalling results that would accrue, they did not observe that they
were standing beneath a small square hole in the wall of the barn;
neither did they notice that from this aperture a dark head protruded
for a second and then quick as lightning withdrew. It was only like a
shadow, and disappeared instantly!

Ten minutes later a mysterious figure was creeping cautiously along
under the hedge of the high road to Newington in the direction of the
British lines. Crawling along the grass, and pausing now and then with
his ear to the ground, listening, he advanced by short, silent stages,
exercising the greatest caution, well aware that death would be his fate
should he be discovered. In wading the Braid Burn he almost betrayed
himself to a Russian sentry; but at last, after travelling for over an
hour, risking discovery at any moment, he at length passed the British
outposts beyond Liberton, and ascended the Braid Hills to the
headquarters.

The story he told the General commanding was at first looked upon as
ludicrous. In the dim candlelight in the General's tent he certainly
looked a disreputable derelict, his old and tattered clothes wet
through, his hands cut by stones and bleeding, and his face half covered
with mud. The three officers who were with the General laughed when he
dashed in excitedly, and related the conversation he had overheard; yet
when he subsequently went on to describe in detail what he had
witnessed, and when they remembered that this tramp was an artilleryman
who had long ago been conspicuous by his bravery at El Teb, and an
ingenious inventor, their expression of amusement gave way to one of
alarm.

The General, who had been writing, thoughtfully tapped the little camp
table before him with his pen. "So they intend to destroy us and wreck
the city by that means, now that their legitimate tactics have failed! I
can scarcely credit that such is their intention; yet if they should be
successful--if"--

"But they will not be successful, sir. If you will send some one to
assist me, and allow me to act as I think fit, I will frustrate their
dastardly design, and the city shall be saved."

"You are at liberty to act as you please. You know their plans, and I
have perfect confidence in you, Mackenzie," replied the officer. "Do
not, however, mention a word of the enemy's intention to any one. It
would terrify the men; and although I do not doubt their bravery, yet
the knowledge of such a horrible fate hanging over them must necessarily
increase their anxiety, and thus prevent them from doing their best. We
are weak, but remember we are all Britons. Now come," he added, "sit
there, upon that box, and explain at once what is your scheme of defence
against this extraordinary attack."

And the fearless man to whom the General had entrusted the defence of
Edinburgh obeyed, and commenced to explain what means he intended to
take--a desperate but well-devised plan, which drew forth words of the
highest commendation from the commanding officer and those with him.
They knew that the fate of Edinburgh hung in the balance, and that if
the city were taken it would be the first step towards their downfall.




CHAPTER XXXI.

"THE DEMON OF WAR."


Two hours later, just before the break of day, British bugles sounded,
and the camp on the Braid Hills was immediately astir. That the enemy
were about to test the efficiency of a new gigantic engine of war was
unknown except to the officers and the brave man who had risked his life
in order to obtain the secret of the foeman's plans.

To him the British General was trusting, and as with knit brows and
anxious face the grey-haired officer stood at the door of his tent
gazing across the burn to Blackford Hill, he was wondering whether he
had yet obtained his coign of vantage. From the case slung round his
shoulder he drew his field glasses and turned them upon a clump of trees
near the top of the hill, straining his eyes to discover any movement.

On the crest of the hill two Volunteer artillery batteries were actively
preparing for the coming fray, but as yet it was too dark to discern
anything among the distant clump of trees; so, replacing his glasses,
the commanding officer re-entered his tent and bent for a long time over
the Ordnance Map under the glimmering, uncertain light of a guttering
candle.

Meanwhile the Russians were busily completing their arrangements for
striking an appalling blow.

Concealed by a line of trees and a number of farm buildings, the little
section of the enemy had worked indefatigably for the past two hours,
and now in the grey dawn the contents of the mysterious boxes, a long
dark monster, lay upon the grass, moving restlessly, trying to free
itself from its trammels.

It was a huge and curiously-shaped air-ship, and was to be used for
dropping great charges of melinite and steel bombs filled with picric
acid into the handsome historic city of Edinburgh! Some of the shells
were filled with sulphurous acid, carbon dioxide, and other deadly
compounds, the intent being to cause suffocation over wide areas by the
volatilisation of liquid gases!

This controllable electric balloon, a perfection of M. Gaston
Tissandier's invention a few years before, was, as it lay upon the
grass, nearly inflated and ready to ascend, elongated in form, and
filled with hydrogen.

It was about 140 feet long, 63 feet in diameter through the middle, and
the envelope was of fine cloth coated with an impermeable varnish. On
either side were horizontal shafts of flexible walnut laths, fastened
with silk belts along the centre, and over the balloon a netting of
ribbons was placed, and to this the car was connected. On each of the
four sides was a screw propeller 12 feet in diameter, driven by
bichromate of potassium batteries and a dynamo-electric motor. The
propellers were so arranged that the balloon could keep head to a
hurricane, and when proceeding with the wind would deviate immediately
from its course by the mere pulling of a lever by the aeronaut.

Carefully packed in the car were large numbers of the most powerful
infernal machines, ingeniously designed to effect the most awful
destruction if hurled into a thickly-populated centre. Piled in the
smallest possible compass were square steel boxes, some filled with
melinite, dynamite, and an explosive strongly resembling cordite, only
possessing twice its strength, each with fulminating compounds, while
others contained picric acid fitted with glass detonating tubes. Indeed,
this gigantic engine, which might totally wreck a city and kill every
inhabitant in half an hour while at an altitude of 61/2 miles, had rightly
been named by the Pole who had perfected Tissandier's invention--"The
Demon of War."

While the two officers of the Russian balloon section, both experienced
aeronauts, were finally examining minutely every rope, ascertaining that
all was ready for the ascent, away on Blackford Hill one man, pale and
determined, with coat and vest thrown aside, was preparing a
counterblast to the forthcoming attack. Under cover of the clump of
trees, but with its muzzle pointing towards Bridgend, a long, thin gun
of an altogether strange type had been brought into position. It was
about four times the size of a Maxim, which it resembled somewhat in
shape, only the barrel was much longer, the store of ammunition being
contained in a large steel receptacle at the side, wherein also was some
marvellously-contrived mechanism. The six gunners who were assisting
Mackenzie at length completed their work, and the gun having been
carefully examined by the gallant man in charge and two of the officers
who had been in the tent with the General during the midnight
consultation, Mackenzie, with a glance in the yet hazy distance where
the enemy had bivouaced, pulled over a small lever, which immediately
started a dynamo.

"In three minutes we shall be ready for action," he said, glancing at
his watch; and then, turning a small wheel which raised the muzzle of
the gun so as to point it at a higher angle in the direction of the sky,
he waited until the space of time he had mentioned had elapsed.

The officers stood aside conversing in an undertone. This man Mackenzie
had invented this strange-looking weapon, and only one had been made. It
had some months before been submitted to the War Office, but they had
declined to take it up, believing that a patent they already possessed
was superior to it; yet Mackenzie had nevertheless thrown his whole soul
into his work, and meant now to show his superiors its penetrative
powers, and put its capabilities to practical test. Again he glanced at
his watch, and quickly pulled back another lever, which caused the motor
to revolve at twice the speed, and the gun to emit a low hissing sound,
like escaping steam. Then he stepped back to the officers, saying--

"I am now prepared. It will go up as straight and quickly as a rocket,
but we must catch it before it ascends two miles, for the clouds hang
low, and we may lose it more quickly than we imagine."

The gunners stood in readiness, and the two officers looked away over
Craigmillar towards the grey distant sea. Dawn was spreading now, and
the haze was gradually clearing. They all knew the attempt would be made
ere long, before it grew much lighter, so they stood at their posts in
readiness, Mackenzie with his hand upon the lever which would regulate
the discharge.

They were moments of breathless expectancy. Minute after minute went by,
but not a word was spoken, for every eye was turned upon the crest of a
certain ridge nearly three miles away, at a point where the country was
well wooded.

A quarter of an hour had thus elapsed, when Mackenzie suddenly shouted,
"Look, lads! _There she goes!_ Now, let's teach 'em what Scots can do."

As he spoke there rose from behind the ridge a great dark mass, looking
almost spectral in the thin morning mist. For a moment it seemed to
poise and swing as if uncertain in its flight, then quickly it shot
straight up towards the sky.

"Ready?" shouted Mackenzie, his momentary excitement having given place
to great coolness. The men at their posts all answered in the
affirmative. Mackenzie bent and waited for a few seconds sighting the
gun, while the motor hummed with terrific speed. Then shouting "Fire!"
he drew back the lever.

The gun discharged, but there was no report, only a sharp hiss as the
compressed air released commenced to send charge after charge of
dynamite automatically away into space in rapid succession!

None dared to breathe. The excitement was intense. They watched the
effect upon the Russian balloon, but to their dismay saw it still
rapidly ascending and unharmed!

It had altered its course, and instead of drifting away seaward was now
travelling towards Duddingston, and making straight for Edinburgh,
passing above the Russian camp.

"Missed! _missed!_" Mackenzie shrieked, turning back the lever and
arresting the discharge. "It's four miles off now, and we can carry
seven and three-quarters to hit a fixed object. Remember, lads, the fate
of Auld Reekie is now in your hands! Ready?"

Again he bent and sighted the gun, raising the muzzle higher than the
balloon so as to catch it on the ascent. The motor hummed louder and
louder, the escaping air hissed and turned into liquid by the enormous
pressure, then with a glance at the gauge he yelled "Fire!" and pulled
back the lever.

Dynamite shells, ejected at the rate of 50 a minute, rushed from the
muzzle, and sped away.

But the Demon of War, with its whirling propellers, continued on its
swift, silent mission of destruction.

"Missed again!" cried one of the men, in despair. "See! it's gone!
We've--good heavens!--_why, we've lost it--lost it!_"

Mackenzie, who had been glancing that moment at the gauges, gazed
eagerly up, and staggered back as if he had received a blow. "It's
disappeared!" he gasped. "_They've outwitted us, the brutes, and nothing
now can save Edinburgh from destruction!_"

Officers and men stood aghast, with blanched faces, scarce knowing how
to act. The destructive forces in that controllable balloon were more
than sufficient to lay the whole of Edinburgh in ruins; and then, no
doubt, the enemy would attempt by the same means to destroy the British
batteries on the neighbouring hills. Already, along the valleys fighting
had begun, for rapid firing could be heard in the direction of
Gilmerton, and now and then the British guns on the Braid Hills behind
spoke out sharply to the Russians who had occupied Loanhead, and the
distant booming of cannon could be heard incessantly from Corstorphine.

Suddenly a loud, exultant cry from Mackenzie caused his companions to
strain their eyes away to Duddingston, and there they saw high in the
air the monster aerial machine gradually looming through the mist, a
vague and shadowy outline. It had passed through a bank of cloud, and
was gradually reappearing.

"Quick! There's not a moment to lose!" shrieked Mackenzie, springing to
the lever with redoubled enthusiasm, an example followed by the others.

The motor revolved so rapidly that it roared, the gauges ran high, the
escaping air hissed so loudly that Mackenzie was compelled to shout at
the top of his voice "Ready?" as for a third time he took careful aim at
the misty object now six miles distant.

The War Demon was still over the Russian camp, and in a few moments,
travelling at that high rate of speed, it would pass over Arthur's Seat,
and be enabled to drop its deadly compounds in Princes Street. But
Mackenzie set his teeth, and muttered something under his breath.

"_Now!_" he ejaculated, as he suddenly pulled the lever, and for the
last time sent forth the automatic shower of destructive shells.

A second later there was a bright flash from above as if the sun itself
had burst, and then came a most terrific explosion, which caused the
earth to tremble where they stood. The clouds were rent asunder by the
frightful detonation, and down upon the Russian camp the debris of their
ingenious invention fell in a terrible death-dealing shower. The
annihilation of the dastardly plot to wreck the city was complete. Small
dynamite shells from Mackenzie's pneumatic gun had struck the car of the
balloon, and by the firing of half a ton of explosives the enemy was in
an instant hoist with his own petard.

As the debris fell within the Russian lines, some fifty or sixty
picric-acid bombs--awful engines of destruction--which had not been
exploded in mid-air, crashed into the Muscovite ranks, and, bursting,
killed and wounded hundreds of infantrymen and half a regiment of
Cossacks. One, bursting in the enemy's headquarters, seriously injured
several members of the staff; while another, falling among the
Engineers' transport, exploded a great quantity of gun-cotton, which in
its turn killed a number of men and horses.

The disaster was awful in its suddenness, appalling in its completeness.
The aeronauts, totally unprepared for such an attack, had been blown to
atoms just when within an ace of success.

Fortune had favoured Britain, and, thanks to Mackenzie's vigilance and
his pneumatic dynamite gun, which the Government had rejected as a
worthless weapon, the grey old city of Edinburgh was still safe.

But both Russians and Britons had now mustered their forces, and this,
the first note sounded of a second terrific and desperately-fought
battle, portended success for Britain's gallant army.

Yet notwithstanding the disaster the enemy sustained by the blowing up
of their balloon, their 2nd Army Corps, together with the portion of the
3rd Army Corps operating from their base at Leith, succeeded, after
terribly hard fighting and heavy losses, in at length forcing back the
defenders from the Braid and Blackford Hills, and the Corstorphine
position having already been occupied, they were then enabled to invest
Edinburgh. That evening fierce sanguinary fights took place in the
streets, for the people held the barricades until the last moment, and
the batteries on Calton Hill, in St. Andrew's Square, and at the Castle
effected terrible execution in conjunction with those on Arthur's Seat.
Still the enemy by their overwhelming numbers gradually broke down these
defences, and, after appalling slaughter on both sides, occupied the
city. The fighting was fiercest along Princes Street, Lothian Road, and
in the neighbourhood of Scotland Street Station, while along Cumberland
and Great King Streets the enemy were swept away in hundreds by British
Maxims brought to bear from Drummond Place. Along Canongate from
Holyrood to Moray House, and in Lauriston Place and the Grassmarket,
hand-to-hand struggles took place between the patriotic civilians and
the foe. From behind their barricades men of Edinburgh fought valiantly,
and everywhere inflicted heavy loss; still the enemy, pressing onward,
set fire to a number of public buildings, including the Register Office,
the Royal Exchange, the University, the Liberal and New Clubs, and
Palace Hotel, with many other buildings in Princes Street. The fires,
which broke out rapidly in succession, were caused for the purpose of
producing a panic, and in this the enemy were successful, for the city
was quickly looted, and the scenes of ruin, death, and desolation that
occurred in its streets that night were awful.

[Illustration: "IN EDINBURGH THE FIGHTING WAS FIERCEST ALONG PRINCES
STREET."]

In every quarter the homes of loyal Scotsmen were entered by the
ruthless invader, who wrecked the cherished household gods, and carried
away all the valuables that were portable. Outrage and murder were rife
everywhere, and no quarter was shown the weak or unprotected. Through
the streets the invader rushed with sword and firebrand, causing
destruction, suffering, and death.

The defenders, though straining every nerve to stem the advancing tide,
had, alas! been unsuccessful, and ere midnight Edinburgh, one of the
proudest and most historic cities in the world, had fallen, and the
British standard floating over the Castle was, alas! replaced by the
Eagle of the Russian Autocrat.




CHAPTER XXXII.

FRIGHTFUL SLAUGHTER OUTSIDE GLASGOW.


It was a sad misfortune, a national calamity; yet our troops did not
lose heart. Commanded as they were by Britons, astute, loyal, and
fearless, they, after fighting hard, fell back from Edinburgh in order,
and husbanded their force for the morrow.

Indeed, soon after dawn the Russians found themselves severely attacked.
Exultant over their success, they had, while sacking Edinburgh, left
their base at Leith very inadequately protected, with the result that
the defenders, swooping suddenly down upon the town, succeeded, with the
assistance of four coast-defence ships and a number of torpedo boats, in
blowing up most of the Russian transports, and seizing their ammunition
and provisions.

Such an attack was, of course, very vigorously defended, but it was a
smart manoeuvre on the part of the British General, and enabled him,
after cutting off the enemy's line of retreat, to turn suddenly and
attack the Russians who were continuing their destructive campaign
through the streets of Edinburgh. This bold move on the part of the
defenders was totally unexpected by the foe, which accounted for the
frightful loss of life that was sustained on the Russian side, and the
subsequent clever tactics which resulted in the driving out of the
invaders from Edinburgh, and British troops reoccupying that city.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE BATTLEFIELD OUTSIDE GLASGOW.]

Meanwhile the 1st Russian Army Corps, which on landing had at once set
out towards Glasgow, had marched on in a great extended line, sacking
the various towns through which they passed. As they advanced from
Linlithgow, Airdrie, and Coatbridge were looted and burned, while
further south, Motherwell, Hamilton, and Bothwell shared the same fate.
About 20,000 men, together with 11,000 who had been forced to evacuate
Edinburgh, had at length advanced a little beyond Coatbridge, and, in
preparation for a vigorous siege of Glasgow, halted within seven miles
of the city, with flanks extended away south to Motherwell and on to
Wishaw, and north as far as Chryston and Kirkintilloch.

In Glasgow the excitement was intense, and surging crowds filled the
streets night and day. The fall of Edinburgh had produced the greatest
sensation, and the meagre news of the disaster telegraphed had scarcely
been supplemented when the report of the retaking of "Auld Reekie" came
to hand, causing great rejoicing. Nevertheless, it was known that over
thirty thousand trained soldiers were on their way to the banks of the
Clyde, and Glasgow was fevered and turbulent. The scanty business that
had lately been done was now at a standstill, and the meagre supplies
that reached there from America not being half sufficient for the
enormous population, the city was already starving. But, as in other
towns, great barricades had been thrown up, and those in Gallowgate and
Duke Street, thoroughfares by which Glasgow might be entered by way of
Parkhead and Dennistoun, were soon manned by loyal and patriotic bands
of civilians. Other barriers were constructed at St. Rollox Station, in
Canning Street, in Monteith Row, and in Great Western, Dumbarton, and
Govan Roads.

South of the river, Eglinton Street and the roads at Crosshill were
barricaded, and in New City and Garscube Roads in the north there were
also strong defences. All were held by enthusiastic bodies of men who
had hastily armed themselves, confident in the belief that our
Volunteers and the small body of Regulars would not allow the invader to
march in force upon their city without a most determined resistance.

Now, however, the alarming news reached Glasgow that the enemy had
actually sacked and burned Coatbridge. In an hour they could commence
looting the shops in Gallowgate, and their heavy tramp would be heard on
the granite of Trongate and Argyle Street! Throughout the city the
feeling of insecurity increased, and hourly the panic assumed greater
proportions.

The sun that day was obscured by dark thunder-clouds, the swirling
Clyde flowed on black beneath its many bridges, and the outlook was
everywhere gloomy and ominous.

Still, away on the hills to southward, our small force of soldiers and
Volunteers had narrowly watched the onward tide of destroyers, and
carefully laid their plans. The manner in which the defensive operations
were conducted is perhaps best related in a letter written by Captain
Boyd Drummond of the 1st Battalion Princess Louise's (Argyll and
Sutherland) Highlanders, to a friend in London, and which was published
with the accompanying sketch in the _Daily Graphic_.

He wrote as follows:--"On the second day after the Russians had landed,
Colonel Cumberland of 'Ours' received orders to move us from Lanark, and
reconnoitre as far as possible along the Carluke road, with a view to
taking up a position to cover the advance of the division, which had
during the morning been considerably reinforced by nearly half the
centre division from Peebles. In addition to our battalion with two
machine guns, Colonel Cumberland was in command of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd,
and 4th Volunteer Battalions from Greenock, Paisley, Pollokshaws, and
Stirling respectively, the 1st Dumbarton from Helensburgh, the Highland
Borderers, and the Renfrew Militia, together with a section of field
artillery, a field company of Royal Engineers, and about forty cavalry
and cyclists. Arriving at Carluke early in the afternoon, we awaited the
return of scouts, who had been pushed on in advance to beyond Wishaw, in
the direction of the enemy. They having reported that the Russians had
withdrawn from Wishaw, we at once moved on to Law Junction, about a mile
from that town, and finally took up a position for the night near
Waterloo, commanding Wishaw and Overtown.

"Beyond the junction, towards Glasgow, the railway, which the enemy
evidently did not intend to use, had been destroyed, but scouts from
Morningside reported that the line to Edinburgh had not been cut, and
that the permanent way remained uninjured. Colonel Cumberland therefore
told off the right half battalion, with a machine gun, a section of
Engineers, and six cyclists, to take up a position near the road between
Newmains and Morningside, with instructions to form piquets and patrol
the roads north and east. I was with No. 1 Company, but, being senior
captain present, the chief gave me command of this detachment. It was
the first time such a responsibility had been conferred upon me;
therefore I was determined not to be caught napping.

"As soon as we arrived at our ground, I sent two cyclists out to
Newmains and two to Morningside, with orders to glean what information
they could, and to wait in the villages until further orders, unless
they sighted the enemy's outposts, or discovered anything important. As
soon as I had sent out my piquets, I took my own company and six of the
Engineers down to Morningside. Some of the villagers, who had escaped
when a portion of the invaders passed through on the previous night, had
returned, and the cyclists gathered from them that we were close upon
the heels of the Russian rearguard.

"As the railway had not been destroyed, I thought that possibly the
invaders intended to use the line _via_ Mid-Calder, and therefore
examined the station closely. While engaged in this, one of the
Engineers suddenly discovered a wire very carefully concealed along the
line, and as we followed it up 500 yards each way, and could find no
connection with the instrument at the station office, I at once
concluded that it was the enemy's field telegraph, forming means of
communication between their headquarters at Airdrie and the division
that still remained in the Pentlands.

"Cutting the wire, and attaching the ends to the instrument in the
station, I left three Engineers, all expert telegraphists, to tap the
wire, and they, with the right half company, under Lieutenant Compton,
formed a detached post at this point. I also left the cyclists to convey
to me any messages which might be received on the instrument, and then
proceeded to Newmains. The place was now a mere heap of smouldering
ruins; but, as at Morningside, some of the terrified villagers had
returned, and they stated that early in the morning they had seen small
detachments of Russian cavalry pass through from Bankle, and proceed
north along the Cleland road.

"Leaving the left half company here with the other Engineers and the two
cyclists, under Lieutenant Planck, with orders to block the road and
railway bridge, I returned to my piquet line. A few minutes later,
however, a cyclist rode up with a copy of a message which had been sent
from the Russian headquarters on the Pentlands to the Glasgow investing
force. The message was in cipher, but, thanks to the information
furnished by the spy who was captured near Manchester, we were now aware
of some of the codes used by the invaders, and I sent the messenger on
to the Colonel at once. One of his staff was able to transcribe it
sufficiently to show that some disaster had occurred to the enemy on the
Pentlands, for it concluded with an order withdrawing the troops from
Glasgow, in order to reinforce the 3rd Army Corps in the fierce battle
that was now proceeding. It was also stated in the message that
despatches followed, so at once we were all on the alert.

"Almost immediately afterwards news was received over our own telegraph
from Carstairs, stating that a terrific battle had been fought along the
valleys between Leadburn, Linton, and Dolphinton, in which we had
suffered very severely, but we had nevertheless gained a decisive
victory, for from dawn until the time of telegraphing it was estimated
that no fewer than 12,000 Russians had been killed or wounded.

"It appeared that our forces on the Lammermuirs had moved quickly, and,
extending along the ridges, through Tynehead, and thence to Heriot, and
on to Peebles, joined hands with the division at that place before dawn,
and, when it grew light, had made a sudden and desperate attack. The
enemy, who had imagined himself in a safe position, was unprepared, and
from the first moment of the attack the slaughter was awful. As noon
wore on the battle had increased, until now the invaders had been
outflanked, and mowed down in such a frightful manner, that the
survivors, numbering nearly six thousand of all ranks, had, finding
their urgent appeal to their forces at Airdrie met with no response, and
imagining that they too had been defeated, at last surrendered, and were
taken prisoners.

"On receipt of this intelligence, Colonel Cumberland executed a
manoeuvre that was a marvel of forethought and smartness. The appeal to
Airdrie for help had, of course, not been received, but in its place he
ordered a message in Russian to be sent along the enemy's field
telegraph to the force advancing on Glasgow in the following words:
'Remain at Airdrie. Do not advance on Glasgow before we join you. The
defenders are defeated with heavy losses everywhere. Our advance guard
will be with you in twenty-four hours. Signed--Drukovitch.'

"This having been despatched, he reported by telegraph to the
headquarters at Carstairs what he had done, and then our whole force
immediately moved as far as Bellshill, in the direction of Glasgow. Here
we came across the Russian outposts, and a sharp fight ensued. After
half an hour, however, we succeeded in cutting them off and totally
annihilating them, afterwards establishing ourselves in Bellshill until
reinforcements could arrive. We were now only six miles from the Russian
headquarters at Airdrie, and they, on receipt of our fictitious message,
had withdrawn from the Clyde bank, and extended farther north over the
hills as far as Milngavie.

"We were thus enabled to watch and wait in Bellshill undisturbed
throughout the night; and while the enemy were eagerly expecting their
legions of infantry who were to swoop down and conquer Glasgow, we
remained content in the knowledge that the hour of conquest was close at
hand.

"A short, hasty rest, and we were astir again long before the dawn. Just
at daybreak, however, the advance guard of our force from Carstairs,
which had been on the march during the night, came into touch with us,
and in an hour the combined right and centre divisions of the British
had opened the battle.

"Our fighting front extended from Wishaw right across to Condorrat, with
batteries on Torrance and the hill at New Monkland, while another strong
line was pushed across from Cambuslang to Parkhead, and thence to
Millerston, for the protection of Glasgow.

"Thus, almost before our guns uttered their voice of defiance, we had
surrounded the enemy, and throughout the morning the fighting was most
sanguinary and desperate. Our batteries did excellent service; still, it
must be remembered we had attacked a well-trained force of over thirty
thousand men, and they had many more guns than we possessed. No doubt
the fictitious despatch we had sent had prevented the Russian commander
from advancing on Glasgow during the night, as he had intended; and now,
finding himself so vigorously attacked by two divisions which he
believed had been cut up and annihilated, all his calculations were
completely upset.

"It was well for us that this was so, otherwise we might have fared much
worse than we did. As it was, Cossacks and Dragoons wrought frightful
havoc among our infantry; while, on the other hand, the fire discipline
of the latter was magnificent. Every bit of cover on the hills seem to
bristle with hidden rifles, that emptied their magazines without smoke
and with fatal effect. Many a gallant dash was made by our men, the
Volunteers especially displaying conspicuous courage. The 1st
Dumbartonshire Volunteers, under Col. Thomson, V.D., the 1st
Renfrewshire, under Col. Lamont, V.D., and the 4th Battalion Argyll and
Sutherland Highlanders, under Col. D. M'Fayden, V.D., operated together
with magnificent success, for they completely cut up a strong Russian
detachment on the Glasgow road beyond Uddingston, driving them out of
the wood near Daldowie, and there annihilating them, and afterwards
holding their own on the banks of the North Calder without suffering
very much loss. They handled their Maxims as smartly as any body of
Regulars; and indeed, throughout the day their performances everywhere
were marked by steady discipline and cool courage that was in the
highest degree commendable.

"About two o'clock in the afternoon the battle was at its height. Under
the blazing sun that beat down upon us mercilessly, my battalion fought
on, feeling confident that the enemy were gradually being defeated. The
slaughter everywhere was frightful, and the green hillsides and fields
were covered with dead and dying soldiers of the Tsar. The grey coats
were soaked with blood, and dark, ugly stains dyed the grass of the
fertile meadows beside the winding Clyde. Since their sudden landing in
Scotland, the enemy's early successes had been followed by defeat after
defeat. Their transports had been destroyed, their ammunition and stores
seized, both their 2nd and 3rd Army Corps had been totally annihilated,
leaving nearly twelve thousand men in our hands as prisoners, and now
the defeat of this force of picked regiments, who had, on landing,
immediately marched straight across Scotland, would effect a crushing
and decisive blow.

"But the struggle was terrific, the din deafening, the wholesale
butchery appalling. Our men knew they were fighting for Caledonia and
their Queen, and their conduct, from the first moment of hostilities,
until stray bullets laid them low one after another, was magnificent;
they were splendid examples of the true, loyal, and fearless Briton, who
will fight on even while his life-blood ebbs.

"Evening fell, but the continuous firing did not cease. The sun sank red
and angry into dark storm-clouds behind the long range of purple hills
beyond the Clyde, but the clash of arms continued over hill and dale on
the east of Glasgow, and we, exerting every effort in our successful
attempt to hold the five converging roads near Broomhouse, knew not
which side were victors.

"Suddenly I received orders to send over a small detachment to block the
two roads at Baillieston, the one a main road leading up from
Coatbridge, and the other from the hilly country around Old Monkland,
where the struggle was fiercest. Sending Lieutenant Planck over
immediately with a detachment and several cyclists, I followed as soon
as possible, and found he had blocked both roads in the centre of the
little Scotch village, and had occupied the inn situated between the two
roads, leaving just sufficient space for his cyclists to pass. Looking
towards the city we could see that the hills on our left were occupied
by British redcoats. In the village the quaint little low-built
cottages, with their stairs outside, were all closed and deserted, and
the place seemed strangely quiet after the exciting scenes and ceaseless
deafening din.

"Taking six of Planck's men and the cyclists about a mile towards
Coatbridge, I posted them at the cross-roads beyond Rhind House, sending
the cyclists out along the valley to Dikehead. All was quiet in our
immediate vicinity for some time, until suddenly we discerned the
cyclists coming back. They reported that they had seen cavalry. This,
then, must be a detachment of the enemy, who in all probability were
retreating. I at once sent the cyclists back to inform Planck, and to
tell him we should not take a hand in the game until we had allowed them
to pass and they had discovered his barricade. In a few minutes we could
distinctly hear them approaching. We were all well under cover, but I
was surprised to find that it was only an escort.

"They were galloping, and had evidently come a long distance by some
circuitous route, and had not taken part in the fighting. I counted
five--two Cossacks in advance, then about forty yards behind a
shabbily-dressed civilian on horseback, and about forty yards behind him
two more Cossacks. They appeared to expect no interruption, and it
occurred to me that the Cossacks were escorting the civilian over to the
Russian position away beyond Hogganfield Loch. As soon as they were
clear, I formed my men up on each side of the road to await events.

"We had no occasion to remain long in expectation, for soon afterwards
the stillness was broken by shouts and a few rapid shots, and then we
could hear two horses galloping back. One was riderless, and a corporal
who attempted to stop it was knocked down and seriously injured; but the
other had a rider, and as he neared us I could see he was the civilian.
I knew I must stop him at all costs.

"So, ordering the men on the opposite side of the road to lie down, we
gave him a section volley from one side as he rushed past. The horse was
badly hit, and stumbled, throwing its rider, who was at once secured. To
prevent him from disposing of anything, we bound him securely. Two of
the Cossacks had been shot and the other two captured. Upon the
civilian, and in his saddle-bags, we found a number of cipher
despatches, elaborate plans showing how Glasgow was defended, and an
autograph letter from the Russian General Drukovitch, giving him
instructions to enter Glasgow alone by way of Partick, and to await him
there until the city fell.

"But the city was never invested. An hour after we had sent this
mysterious civilian--who spoke English with a foreign accent--over to
the Colonel, our onslaught became doubly desperate. In the dusk,
regiment after regiment of Russians were simply swept away by the cool
and deliberate fire of the British, who, being reinforced by my
battalion and others, wrought splendid execution in the enemy's main
body, forced back upon us at Baillieston.

"Then, as night fell, a report was spread that General Drukovitch had
surrendered. This proved true. With his 2nd and 3rd Army Corps
annihilated, and his transports and base in our hands, he was compelled
to acknowledge himself vanquished; therefore, by nine o'clock
hostilities had ceased, and during that night nearly six thousand
survivors of the 1st Russian Army Corps were taken prisoners, and
marched in triumph into Glasgow amid the wildest excitement of the
populace. This desperate attempt to invest Glasgow had cost the Russians
no fewer than 25,000 men in killed and wounded.

"The capture we effected near Baillieston turned out to be of a most
important character. When searched at headquarters, a visiting-card was
found concealed upon the man, and this gave our Colonel a clue. The man
has since been identified by one of his intimate friends as a person
well known in London society, who poses as a wealthy German, the
Count von Beilstein! It is alleged that he has for several years been
living in the metropolis and acting as an expert spy in the Secret
Service of the Tsar. He was sent handcuffed, under a strong escort, to
London a few days after the battle, and if all I hear be true, some
highly sensational disclosures will be made regarding his adventurous
career.

[Illustration: DEFEAT OF THE RUSSIANS AT BAILLIESTON, NEAR GLASGOW.]

"But throughout Caledonia there is now unbounded joy. Our beloved
country is safe; for, thanks to the gallant heroism of our Volunteers,
the Muscovite invaders have been completely wiped out, and Scotland
again proudly rears her head."




CHAPTER XXXIII.

MARCH OF THE FRENCH ON LONDON.


South of the Thames, where the gigantic force of French and Russians,
numbering nearly two hundred thousand of all arms, had been prevented
from attacking London by our Volunteers and Regulars massed along the
Surrey Hills, the slaughter on both sides had been frightful. The
struggle was indeed not for a dynasty, but for the very existence of
Britain as an independent nation.

Sussex had been devastated, but Kent still held out, and Chatham
remained in the possession of the defenders.

The rout of the British at Horsham prior to the march of the left column
of invaders to Birmingham was succeeded by defeat after defeat, the
engagements each day illustrating painfully that by force of
overwhelming numbers the invaders were gradually nearing their goal--the
mighty Capital of our Empire.

Gallant stands were made by our Regulars at East Grinstead, Crawley,
Alfold, and from Haslemere across Hind Head Common to Frensham. At each
of these places, long, desperately-fought battles with the French had
taken place through the hot September days,--our Regular forces
confident in the stubborn resistance that would be offered by the long
unbroken line of Volunteers occupying the range of hills behind. Our
signallers had formed a long line of stations from Reculvers and Star
Hill, south of the Medway Fortress, to Blue Bell Hill, between Chatham
and Maidstone, thence through Snodland, Wrotham, Westerham, and
Limpsfield to Caterham, and from there on through Reigate Park, Boxhill,
St. Martha's, and over the Hog's Back to Aldershot. With flags in day
and lamps by night messages constantly passed, and communication was
thus maintained by this means as well as by the field telegraph, which,
however, on several occasions had been cut by the enemy.

Yet although our soldiers fought day after day with that pluck
characteristic of the true Briton, fortune nevertheless seemed to have
forsaken us, and even although we inflicted frightful losses upon the
French all round, still they gradually forced back the defenders over
the Surrey border. Terror, ruin, and death had been spread by the
invading Gauls. English homes were sacked, French soldiers bivouaced in
Sussex pastures, and the ripening corn was trodden down and stained with
blood. The white dusty highways leading from London to the sea were
piled with unheeded corpses that were fearful to gaze upon, yet
Britannia toiled on undaunted in this desperate struggle for the
retention of her Empire.

After our defeat at Horsham, the Russians had contented themselves by
merely driving back the defenders to a line of resistance from Aldershot
to the north of Bagshot, and then they had marched onward to Birmingham.
From Horsham, however, two columns of the invaders, mostly French, and
numbering over twenty thousand each, had advanced on Guildford and
Dorking. At the same time, a strong demonstration was made by the enemy
in the country north of Eastbourne and Hailsham, by which the whole of
the district in the triangle from Bexhill to Heathfield, and thence to
Cuckfield and Steyning, fell into their hands. The British, however, had
massed a strong force to prevent the enemy making their way into West
Kent, and still held their own along the hills stretching from
Crowborough to Ticehurst, and from Etchingham, through Brightling and
Ashburnham, down to Battle and Hastings.

The north of London had during the weeks of hostilities been strongly
guarded by Volunteers and Regulars, for information of a contemplated
landing in Essex had been received; and although the defenders had not
yet fired a shot, they were eagerly looking forward to a chance of
proving their worth, as their comrades in other parts of England had
already done.

At first the tactics of the invaders could not be understood, for it had
been concluded that they would naturally follow up their successes on
landing with a rapid advance on London.

It was, of course, evident that the vigorous demonstrations made in the
North and other parts of Britain were intended with a view to drawing as
many troops as possible from the defence of London, and dispose of them
in detail before surrounding the capital. Yet, to the dismay of the
enemy, no blow they delivered in other parts of our country had had the
desired effect of weakening the defensive lines around London. At the
opening of the campaign it had been the enemy's intention to reduce
London by a blockade, which could perhaps have been successfully carried
out had they landed a strong force in Essex. The troops who were
intended to land there were, however, sent to Scotland instead, and the
fact that they had been annihilated outside Glasgow resulted in a
decision to march at once upon the metropolis.

Advancing from Horsham, the French right column, numbering 20,000 men
with about 70 guns, had, after desperate fighting, at last reached
Leatherhead, having left a battalion in support at Dorking. The British
had resolutely contested every step the French had advanced, and the
slaughter around Dorking had been awful, while the fighting across
Fetcham Downs and around Ockley and Bear Green had resulted in frightful
loss on both sides.

Our Regulars and Volunteers, notwithstanding their gallantry, were,
alas! gradually driven back by the enormous numbers that had commenced
the onslaught, and were at last thrown back westward in disorder,
halting at Ripley. Here the survivors snatched a hasty rest, and they
were during the night reinforced by a contingent of Regulars who had
come over from Windsor and Hounslow. On the arrival of these
reinforcements, the Colonel, well knowing how serious was the situation
now our first line of defence had been broken, sent out a flying column
from Ripley, while the main body marched to Great Bookham, with the
result that Leatherhead, now in the occupation of the French, was from
both sides vigorously attacked. The British flying column threatening
the enemy from the north was, however, quickly checked by the French
guns, and in the transmission of an order a most serious blunder
occurred, leading to the impossibility of a retreat upon Ripley, for
unfortunately the order, wrongly given, resulted in the blowing up by
mistake of the bridges over the river Mole by which they had crossed,
and which they wanted to use again.

Thus it was that for a time this force was compelled to remain, at
terrible cost, right under the fire of the French entrenched position at
Leatherhead; but the enemy were fortunately not strong enough to follow
up this advantage, and as they occupied a strong strategical position
they were content to await the arrival of their huge main body, now on
the move, and which they expected would reach Leatherhead during that
night. After more fierce fighting, lasting one whole breathless day, the
defenders were annihilated, while their main body approaching from the
south also fell into a trap. For several hours a fierce battle also
raged between Dorking and Mickleham. The British battery on Box Hill
wrought awful havoc in the French lines, yet gradually the enemy
silenced our guns and cut up our forces.

The invaders were now advancing in open order over the whole of Sussex
and the west of Kent, and on the same day as the battle was fought at
Leatherhead, the high ground south of Sevenoaks, extending from Wimlet
Hill to Chart Common, fell into their hands, the British suffering
severely; while two of our Volunteer batteries in the vicinity were
surprised and seized by a French flying column.

In the meantime, another French column, numbering nearly twenty thousand
infantry and cavalry, had advanced from Alfold, burning Ewhurst and
Cranley, and after a desperately-contested engagement they captured the
British batteries on the hills at Hascombe and Hambledon.

On the same day the French advance guard, though suffering terrible
loss, successfully attacked the battery of Regulars on the hill at
Wonersh, and Godalming having been invested, they commenced another
vigorous attack upon the strong line of British Regulars and Volunteers
at Guildford, where about fourteen thousand men were massed.

On the hills from Gomshall to Seale our brave civilian defenders had
remained throughout the hostilities ready to repel any attack. Indeed,
as the days passed, and no demonstration had been made in their
direction, they had grown impatient, until at length this sudden and
ferocious onslaught had been made, and they found themselves face to
face with an advancing army of almost thrice their strength. Among the
Volunteer battalions holding the position were the 1st Bucks, under Lord
Addington, V.D.; the 2nd Oxfordshire Light Infantry, under Col. H. S.
Hall; the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Bedfordshire Regiment, under Col. A. M.
Blake, Lieut.-Col. Rumball, and Col. J. T. Green, V.D.; the 1st Royal
Berkshire, under Col. J. C. Carter; the 1st Somersetshire Light
Infantry, under Col. H. M. Skrine, V.D.; and the 1st and 2nd Wiltshire,
under the Earl of Pembroke, V.D., and Col. E. B. Merriman, V.D. Strong
batteries had been established between Guildford and Seale by the 1st
Fifeshire Artillery, under Col. J. W. Johnston, V.D., and the Highland
Artillery, under Col. W. Fraser, V.D.; while batteries on the left were
held by the 1st Midlothian, under Col. Kinnear, V.D.; the 1st East
Riding, under Col. R. G. Smith, V.D.; and the 1st West Riding, under
Col. T. W. Harding, V.D.

Commencing before dawn, the battle was fierce and sanguinary almost from
the time the first shots were exchanged. The eight 60-pounder guns in
the new fort at the top of Pewley Hill, manned by the Royal Artillery,
commanded the valleys lying away to the south, and effected splendid
defensive work.

[Illustration: BRITISH VOLUNTEER POSITIONS ON THE SURREY HILLS.]

Indeed, it was this redoubt, with three new ones between Guildford and
Gomshall, and another on the Hog's Back, which held the enemy in check
for a considerable time; and had there been a larger number of a similar
strength, it is doubtful whether the French would ever have accomplished
their design upon Guildford.

The Pewley Fort, built in the solid chalk, and surrounded by a wide
ditch, kept up a continuous fire upon the dense masses of the enemy, and
swept away hundreds of unfortunate fellows as they rushed madly onward;
while the Volunteer batteries and the Maxims of the infantry battalions
poured upon the invaders a devastating hail of lead.

From Farnham, the line through Odiham and Aldershot was held by a force
increasing hourly in strength; therefore the enemy were unable to get
over to Farnborough to outflank the defenders. Through that brilliant,
sunny September day the slaughter was terrible in every part of the
enemy's column, and it was about noon believed that they would find
their positions at Wonersh and Godalming untenable.

Nevertheless, with a dogged persistency unusual to our Gallic
neighbours, they continued to fight with unquelled vigour. The 2nd
Oxfordshire Light Infantry and the 1st and 2nd Wiltshire, holding very
important ground over against Puttenham, bore their part with
magnificent courage, but were at length cut up in a most horrible
manner; while the 1st Bedfordshire, who, with a body of Regulars
valiantly held the road running over the hills from Gomshall to Merrow,
fought splendidly; but they too were, alas! subsequently annihilated.

Over hill and dale, stretching away to the Sussex border, the rattle and
din of war sounded incessantly, and as hour after hour passed, hundreds
of Britons and Frenchmen dyed the brown, sun-baked grass with their
blood. The struggle was frightful. Volunteer battalions who had
manoeuvred over that ground at many an Eastertide had little dreamed
that they would have one day to raise their rifles in earnest for the
defence of their home and Queen. Yet the practice they had had now
served them well, for in one instance the 1st Berkshire succeeded by a
very smart manoeuvre in totally sweeping away several troops of
Cuirassiers, while a quarter of an hour later half an infantry battalion
of Regulars attacked a large force of Zouaves on the Compton Road, and
fought them successfully almost hand to hand.

Through the long, toilsome day the battle continued with unabated fury,
and as the sun went down there was no cessation of hostilities. A force
of our Regulars, extending from Farnham over Hind Head Common, fell
suddenly upon a large body of French infantry, and, outflanking them,
managed--after a most frightful encounter, in which they lost nearly
half their men--to totally annihilate them.

In connection with this incident, a squadron of the 5th Dragoon Guards
made a magnificent charge up a steep hill literally to the muzzles of
the guns of a French battery, and by their magnificent pluck captured
it. Still, notwithstanding the bravery of our defenders, and their
fierce determination to sweep away their foe, it seemed when the sun
finally disappeared that the fortunes of war were once more against us,
for the French had now received huge reinforcements, and Dorking and
Leatherhead having already passed into their hands two days previously,
they were enabled to make their final assault a most savage and terrific
one.

It was frightful; it crushed us! In the falling gloom our men fought
desperately for their lives, but, alas! one after another our positions
were carried by the invaders literally at the point of the bayonet, and
ere the moon rose Guildford had fallen into the enemy's hands, and our
depleted battalions had been compelled to retire in disorder east to
Effingham and west to Farnham. Those who went to Effingham joined at
midnight the column who had made an unsuccessful effort to recover
Leatherhead, and then bivouaced in Oldlands Copse. The number of wounded
in the battles of Guildford and Leatherhead was enormous. At Mickleham
the British hospital flag floated over St. Michael's Church, the Priory
at Cherkley, Chapel Farm, and on Mickleham Hall, a portion of which
still remained intact, although the building had been looted by Zouaves.
In Leatherhead the French had established hospitals at Givons Grove,
Vale Lodge, Elmbank, and in the Church of St. Mary and the parish church
at Fetcham. At Guildford, in addition to the field hospitals on Albury
Downs and behind St. Catherine's Hill, Holden, Warren, and Tyting Farms,
Sutton Place and Loseley were filled with wounded French infantrymen and
British prisoners, and many schools and buildings, including the
Guildhall in Guildford town, bore the red cross.

At two most important strategic points the first line defending London
had now been broken, and the British officers knew that it would require
every effort on our part to recover our lost advantages. The metropolis
was now seriously threatened; for soon after dawn on the following day
two great French columns, one from Guildford and the other from
Leatherhead, were advancing north towards the Thames! The enemy had
established telegraphic communication between the two towns, and
balloons that had been sent up from Guildford and Ashstead to
reconnoitre had reported that the second line of the British defence had
been formed from Kingston, through Wimbledon, Tooting, Streatham, and
Upper Norwood, and thence across _via_ Sydenham to Lewisham and
Greenwich.

It was upon this second line of defence that the French, with their
enormous force of artillery, now marched. The Leatherhead column, with
their main body about one day's march behind, took the route through
Epsom to Mitcham, while the troops from Guildford pushed on through
Ripley, Cobham, and Esher.

This advance occupied a day, and when a halt was made for the night the
enemy's front extended from Walton to Thames Ditton, thence across
Kingston Common and Malden to Mitcham. Bivouacing, they faced the
British second line of defence, and waited for the morrow to commence
their onslaught. In London the alarming news of the enemy's success
caused a panic such as had never before been experienced in the
metropolis. During the long anxious weeks that the enemy had been held
within bounds by our Volunteers, London had never fully realised what
bombardment would mean. While the French were beyond the Surrey Hills,
Londoners felt secure; and the intelligence received of the enemy's
utter rout at Newcastle, Manchester, Edinburgh, and Glasgow added
considerably to this sense of security.

London, alas! was starving. Business was suspended; trains no longer
left the termini; omnibuses, trams, and cabs had ceased running, the
horses having been pressed into military service, and those which had
not had been killed and eaten. The outlook everywhere, even during those
blazing sunny days and clear moonlit nights, was cheerless and
dispiriting. The bright sun seemed strangely incongruous with the black
war-clouds that overhung the gigantic city, with its helpless, starving,
breathless millions.

In the sun-baked, dusty streets the roar of traffic no longer sounded,
but up and down the principal thoroughfares of the City and the West End
the people prowled, lean and hungry--emaciated victims of this awful
struggle between nations--seeking vainly for food to satisfy the
terrible pangs consuming them. The hollow cheek, the thin, sharp nose,
the dark-ringed glassy eye of one and all, told too plainly of the
widespread suffering, and little surprise was felt at the great
mortality in every quarter.

In Kensington and Belgravia the distress was quite as keen as in
Whitechapel and Hackney, and both rich and poor mingled in the gloomy,
dismal streets, wandering aimlessly over the great Modern Babylon, which
the enemy were now plotting to destroy.

The horrors of those intensely anxious days of terror were unspeakable.
The whole machinery of life in the Great City had been disorganised, and
now London lay like an octopus, with her long arms extended in every
direction, north and south of the Thames, inert, helpless, trembling.
Over the gigantic Capital of the World hung the dark Shadow of Death. By
day and by night its ghastly presence could be felt; its hideous
realities crushed the heart from those who would face the situation with
smiling countenance. London's wealth availed her not in this critical
hour.

Grim, spectral, unseen, the Destroying Angel held the sword over her,
ready to strike!




CHAPTER XXXIV.

LOOTING IN THE SUBURBS.


While famished men crept into Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens and there
expired under the trees of absolute hunger, and starving women with
babes at their breasts sank upon doorsteps and died, the more robust
Londoners had, on hearing of the enemy's march on the metropolis, gone
south to augment the second line of defence. For several weeks huge
barricades had been thrown up in the principal roads approaching London
from the south. The strongest of these were opposite the Convalescent
Home on Kingston Hill, in Coombe Lane close to Raynes Park Station, in
the Morden Road at Merton Abbey, opposite Lynwood in the Tooting Road;
while nearer London, on the same road, there was a strong one with
machine guns on the crest of Balham Hill, and another in Clapham Road.
At Streatham Hill, about one hundred yards from the hospital, earthworks
had been thrown up, and several guns brought into position; while at
Beulah Hill, Norwood, opposite the Post Office at Upper Sydenham, at the
Half Moon at Herne Hill, and in many of the roads between Honor Oak and
Denmark Hill, barricades had been constructed and banked up with bags
and baskets filled with earth.

Though these defences were held by enthusiastic civilians of all
classes,--professional men, artisans, and tradesmen,--yet our second
line of defence, distinct, of course, from the local barricades, was a
very weak one. We had relied upon our magnificent strategic positions on
the Surrey Hills, and had not made sufficient provision in case of a
sudden reverse. Our second line, stretching from Croydon up to South
Norwood, thence to Streatham and along the railway line to Wimbledon and
Kingston, was composed of a few battalions of Volunteers, detachments of
Metropolitan police, Berks and Bucks constabulary, London firemen and
postmen, the Corps of Commissionaires--in fact, every body of drilled
men who could be requisitioned to handle revolver or rifle. These were
backed by great bodies of civilians, and behind stood the barricades
with their insignificant-looking but terribly deadly machine guns.

The railways had, on the first news of the enemy's success at
Leatherhead and Guildford, all been cut up, and in each of the many
bridges spanning the Thames between Kingston and the Tower great charges
of gun-cotton had been placed, so that they might be blown up at any
instant, and thus prevent the enemy from investing the city.

Day dawned again at last--dull and grey. It had rained during the night,
and the roads, wet and muddy, were unutterably gloomy as our civilian
defenders looked out upon them, well knowing that ere long a fierce
attack would be made. In the night the enemy had been busy laying a
field telegraph from Mitcham to Kingston, through which messages were
now being continually flashed.

Suddenly, just as the British outposts were being relieved, the French
commenced a vigorous attack, and in a quarter of an hour fighting
extended along the whole line. Volunteers, firemen, policemen,
Commissionaires, and civilians all fought bravely, trusting to one hope,
namely, that before they were defeated the enemy would be outflanked and
attacked in their rear by a British force from the Surrey Hills. They
well knew that to effectually bar the advance of this great body of
French was out of all question, yet they fought on with creditable tact,
and in many instances inflicted serious loss upon the enemy's infantry.

Soon, however, French field guns were trained upon them, and amid the
roar of artillery line after line of heroic Britons fell shattered to
earth. Amid the rattle of musketry, the crackling of the machine guns,
and the booming of 16-pounders, brave Londoners struggled valiantly
against the masses of wildly excited Frenchmen; yet every moment the
line became slowly weakened, and the defenders were gradually forced
back upon their barricades. The resistance which the French met with was
much more determined than they had anticipated; in fact, a small force
of Volunteers holding the Mitcham Road, at Streatham, fought with such
splendid bravery, that they succeeded alone and unaided in completely
wiping out a battalion of French infantry, and capturing two field guns
and a quantity of ammunition. For this success, however, they, alas!
paid dearly, for a quarter of an hour later a large body of cavalry and
infantry coming over from Woodlands descended upon them and totally
annihilated them, with the result that Streatham fell into the hands of
the French, and a few guns placed in the high road soon made short work
of the earthworks near the hospital. Under the thick hail of bursting
shells the brave band who manned the guns were at last compelled to
abandon them, and the enemy were soon marching unchecked into Stockwell
and Brixton, extending their right, with the majority of their
artillery, across Herne Hill, Dulwich, and Honor Oak.

In the meantime a desperate battle was being fought around Kingston. The
barricade on Kingston Hill held out for nearly three hours, but was at
last captured by the invaders, and of those who had manned it not a man
survived. Mitcham and Tooting had fallen in the first hour of the
engagement, the barricade at Lynwood had been taken, and hundreds of the
houses in Balham had been looted by the enemy in their advance into
Clapham.

Nearly the whole morning it rained in torrents, and both invaders and
defenders were wet to the skin, and covered with blood and mud.
Everywhere British pluck showed itself in this desperate resistance on
the part of these partially-trained defenders. At the smaller
barricades in the suburban jerry-built streets, Britons held their own
and checked the advance with remarkable coolness; yet, as the dark,
stormy day wore on, the street defences were one after another broken
down and destroyed.

Indeed, by three o'clock that afternoon the enemy ran riot through the
whole district, from Lower Sydenham to Kingston. Around the larger
houses on Sydenham Hill one of the fiercest fights occurred, but at
length the defenders were driven down into Lordship Lane, and the houses
on the hill were sacked, and some of them burned. While this was
proceeding, a great force of French artillery came over from Streatham,
and before dusk five great batteries had been established along the
Parade in front of the Crystal Palace, and on Sydenham Hill and One Tree
Hill; while other smaller batteries were brought into position at Forest
Hill, Gipsy Hill, Tulse Hill, Streatham Hill, and Herne Hill; and
further towards London about twenty French 12-pounders and a number of
new quick-firing weapons of long range and a very destructive character
were placed along the top of Camberwell Grove and Denmark Hill.

The defences of London had been broken. The track of the invaders was
marked by ruined homes and heaps of corpses, and London's millions knew
on this eventful night that the enemy were now actually at their doors.
In Fleet Street, in the Strand, in Piccadilly, the news spread from
mouth to mouth as darkness fell that the enemy were preparing to launch
their deadly shells into the City. This increased the panic. The people
were in a mad frenzy of excitement, and the scenes everywhere were
terrible. Women wept and wailed, men uttered words of blank despair, and
children screamed at an unknown terror.

The situation was terrible. From the Embankment away on the Surrey side
could be seen a lurid glare in the sky. It was the reflection of a great
fire in Vassall Road, Brixton, the whole street being burned by the
enemy, together with the great block of houses lying between the Cowley
and Brixton Roads.

London waited. Dark storm-clouds scudded across the moon. The chill wind
swept up the river, and moaned mournfully in doors and chimneys.

At last, without warning, just as Big Ben had boomed forth one o'clock,
the thunder of artillery shook the windows, and startled the excited
crowds. Great shells crashed into the streets, remained for a second,
and then burst with deafening report and appalling effect.

In Trafalgar Square, Fleet Street, and the Strand the deadly projectiles
commenced to fall thickly, wrecking the shops, playing havoc with the
public buildings, and sweeping hundreds of men and women into eternity.
Nothing could withstand their awful force, and the people, rushing madly
about like frightened sheep, felt that this was indeed their last hour.

In Ludgate Hill the scene was awful. Shots fell with monotonous
regularity, bursting everywhere, and blowing buildings and men into
atoms. The French shells were terribly devastating; the reek of melinite
poisoned the air. Shells striking St. Paul's Cathedral brought down the
right-hand tower, and crashed into the dome; while others set on fire a
long range of huge drapery warehouses behind it, the glare of the
roaring flames causing the great black Cathedral to stand out in bold
relief.

The bombardment had actually commenced! London, the proud Capital of the
World, was threatened with destruction!




CHAPTER XXXV.

LONDON BOMBARDED.


The Hand of the Destroyer had reached England's mighty metropolis. The
lurid scene was appalling.

In the stormy sky the red glare from hundreds of burning buildings grew
brighter, and in every quarter flames leaped up and black smoke curled
slowly away in increasing volume.

The people were unaware of the events that had occurred in Surrey that
day. Exhausted, emaciated, and ashen pale, the hungry people had endured
every torture. Panic-stricken, they rushed hither and thither in
thousands up and down the principal thoroughfares, and as they tore
headlong away in this _sauve qui peut_ to the northern suburbs, the
weaker fell and were trodden under foot.

Men fought for their wives and families, dragging them away out of the
range of the enemy's fire, which apparently did not extend beyond the
line formed by the Hackney Road, City Road, Pentonville Road, Euston
Road, and Westbourne Park. But in that terrible rush to escape many
delicate ladies were crushed to death, and numbers of others, with their
children, sank exhausted, and perished beneath the feet of the fleeing
millions.

Never before had such alarm been spread through London; never before had
such awful scenes of destruction been witnessed. The French
Commander-in-chief, who was senior to his Russian colleague, had been
killed, and his successor being unwilling to act in concert with the
Muscovite staff, a quarrel ensued. It was this quarrel which caused the
bombardment of London, totally against the instructions of their
respective Governments. The bombardment was, in fact, wholly
unnecessary, and was in a great measure due to some confused orders
received by the French General from his Commander-in-chief. Into the
midst of the surging, terrified crowds that congested the streets on
each side of the Thames, shells filled with melinite dropped, and,
bursting, blew hundreds of despairing Londoners to atoms. Houses were
shattered and fell, public buildings were demolished, factories were set
alight, and the powerful exploding projectiles caused the Great City to
reel and quake. Above the constant crash of bursting shells, the dull
roar of the flames, and the crackling of burning timbers, terrific
detonations now and then were heard, as buildings, filled with
combustibles, were struck by shots, and, exploding, spread death and
ruin over wide areas. The centre of commerce, of wealth, of intellectual
and moral life was being ruthlessly wrecked, and its inhabitants
massacred. Apparently it was not the intention of the enemy to invest
the city at present, fearing perhaps that the force that had penetrated
the defences was not sufficiently large to accomplish such a gigantic
task; therefore they had commenced this terrible bombardment as a
preliminary measure.

Through the streets of South London the people rushed along, all
footsteps being bent towards the bridges; but on every one of them the
crush was frightful--indeed, so great was it that in several instances
the stone balustrades were broken, and many helpless, shrieking persons
were forced over into the dark swirling waters below. The booming of the
batteries was continuous, the bursting of the shells was deafening, and
every moment was one of increasing horror. Men saw their homes swept
away, and trembling women clung to their husbands, speechless with fear.
In the City, in the Strand, in Westminster, and West End streets the
ruin was even greater, and the destruction of property enormous.

Westward, both great stations at Victoria, with the adjoining furniture
repositories and the Grosvenor Hotel, were burning fiercely; while the
Wellington Barracks had been partially demolished, and the roof of St.
Peter's Church blown away. Two shells falling in the quadrangle of
Buckingham Palace had smashed every window and wrecked some of the
ground-floor apartments, but nevertheless upon the flagstaff, amidst the
dense smoke and showers of sparks flying upward, there still floated the
Royal Standard. St. James's Palace, Marlborough House, Stafford House,
and Clarence House, standing in exposed positions, were being all more
or less damaged; several houses in Carlton House Terrace had been
partially demolished, and a shell striking the Duke of York's Column
soon after the commencement of the bombardment, caused it to fall,
blocking Waterloo Place.

Time after time shells whistled above and fell with a crash and
explosion, some in the centre of the road, tearing up the paving, and
others striking the clubs in Pall Mall, blowing out many of those noble
time-mellowed walls. The portico of the Athenaeum had been torn away like
pasteboard, the rear premises of the War Office had been pulverised, and
the Carlton, Reform, and United Service Clubs suffered terrible damage.
Two shells striking the Junior Carlton crashed through the roof, and
exploding almost simultaneously, brought down an enormous heap of
masonry, which fell across the roadway, making an effectual barricade;
while at the same moment shells began to fall thickly in Grosvenor Place
and Belgrave Square, igniting many houses, and killing some of those who
remained in their homes petrified by fear.

Up Regent Street shells were sweeping with frightful effect. The Cafe
Monico and the whole block of buildings surrounding it was burning, and
the flames leaping high, presented a magnificent though appalling
spectacle. The front of the London Pavilion had been partially blown
away, and of the two uniform rows of shops forming the Quadrant many
had been wrecked. From Air Street to Oxford Circus, and along Piccadilly
to Knightsbridge, there fell a perfect hail of shell and bullets.
Devonshire House had been wrecked, and the Burlington Arcade destroyed.
The thin pointed spire of St. James's Church had fallen, every window in
the Albany was shattered, several houses in Grosvenor Place had suffered
considerably, and a shell that struck the southern side of St. George's
Hospital had ignited it, and now at 2 A.M., in the midst of this awful
scene of destruction and disaster, the helpless sick were being removed
into the open streets, where bullets whistled about them and fragments
of explosive shells whizzed past.

As the night wore on London trembled and fell. Once Mistress of the
World, she was now, alas! sinking under the iron hand of the invader.
Upon her there poured a rain of deadly missiles that caused appalling
slaughter and desolation. The newly introduced long-range guns, and the
terrific power of the explosives with which the French shells were
charged, added to the horrors of the bombardment; for although the
batteries were so far away as to be out of sight, yet the unfortunate
people, overtaken by their doom, were torn limb from limb by the
bursting bombs.

Over the roads lay men of London, poor and rich, weltering in their
blood, their lower limbs shattered or blown completely away. With
wide-open haggard eyes, in their death agony they gazed around at the
burning buildings, at the falling debris, and upward at the
brilliantly-illumined sky. With their last breath they gasped prayers
for those they loved, and sank to the grave, hapless victims of
Babylon's downfall.

Every moment the Great City was being devastated, every moment the
catastrophe was more complete, more awful. In the poorer quarters of
South London whole streets were swept away, and families overwhelmed by
their own demolished homes. Along the principal thoroughfares shop
fronts were shivered, and the goods displayed in the windows strewn
about the roadway.

About half-past three a frightful disaster occurred at Battersea. Very
few shells had dropped in that district, when suddenly one fell right in
the very centre of a great petroleum store. The effect was frightful.
With a noise that was heard for twenty miles around, the whole of the
great store of oil exploded, blowing the stores themselves high into the
air, and levelling all the buildings in the vicinity. In every direction
burning oil was projected over the roofs of neighbouring houses, dozens
of which at once caught fire, while down the streets there ran great
streams of blazing oil, which spread the conflagration in every
direction. Showers of sparks flew upwards, the flames roared and
crackled, and soon fires were breaking out in all quarters.

Just as the clocks were striking a quarter to four, a great shell struck
the Victoria Tower of the Houses of Parliament, bringing it down with a
terrific crash. This disaster was quickly followed by a series of
others. A shell fell through the roof of Westminster Abbey, setting the
grand old historic building on fire; another tore away the columns from
the front of the Royal Exchange; and a third carried away one of the
square twin towers of St. Mary Woolnoth, at the corner of Lombard
Street.

Along this latter thoroughfare banks were wrecked, and offices set on
fire; while opposite, in the thick walls of the Bank of England, great
breaches were being made. The Mansion House escaped any very serious
injury, but the dome of the Stock Exchange was carried away; and in
Queen Victoria Street, from end to end, enormous damage was caused to
the rows of fine business premises; while further east the Monument,
broken in half, came down with a noise like thunder, demolishing many
houses on Fish Street Hill.

The great drapery warehouses in Wood Street, Bread Street, Friday
Street, Foster Lane, and St. Paul's Churchyard suffered more or less.
Ryland's, Morley's, and Cook's were all alight and burning fiercely;
while others were wrecked and shattered, and their contents blown out
into the streets. The quaint spire of St. Bride's had fallen, and its
bells lay among the debris in the adjoining courts; both the
half-wrecked offices of the _Daily Telegraph_ and the _Daily Chronicle_
were being consumed.

The great clock-tower of the Law Courts fell about four o'clock with a
terrific crash, completely blocking the Strand at Temple Bar, and
demolishing the much-abused Griffin Memorial; while at the same moment
two large holes were torn in the roof of the Great Hall, the small black
turret above fell, and the whole of the glass in the building was
shivered into fragments.

It was amazing how widespread was the ruin caused by each of the
explosive missiles. Considering the number of guns employed by the
French in this cruel and wanton destruction of property, the desolation
they were causing was enormous. This was owing to the rapid extension of
their batteries over the high ground from One Tree Hill through Peckham
to Greenwich, and more especially to the wide ranges of their guns and
the terrific power of their shells. In addition to the ordinary
projectiles filled with melinite, charges of that extremely powerful
substance lignine dynamite were hurled into the city, and, exploded by a
detonator, swept away whole streets, and laid many great public
buildings in ruins; while steel shells, filled with some arrangement of
liquid oxygen and blasting gelatine, produced frightful effects, for
nothing could withstand them.

One of these, discharged from the battery on Denmark Hill, fell in the
quadrangle behind Burlington House, and levelled the Royal Academy and
the surrounding buildings. Again a terrific explosion sounded, and as
the smoke cleared it was seen that a gelatine shell had fallen among the
many turrets of the Natural History Museum, and the front of the
building fell out with a deafening crash, completely blocking the
Cromwell Road.

London lay at the mercy of the invaders. So swiftly had the enemy cut
their way through the defences and opened their hail of destroying
missiles, that the excited, starving populace were unaware of what had
occurred until dynamite began to rain upon them. Newspapers had ceased
to appear; and although telegraphic communication was kept up with the
defenders on the Surrey Hills by the War Office, yet no details of the
events occurring there had been made public for fear of spies. Londoners
had remained in ignorance, and, alas! had awaited their doom. Through
the long sultry night the situation was one of indescribable panic and
disaster.

The sky had grown a brighter red, and the streets within the range of
the enemy's guns, now deserted, were in most cases blocked by burning
ruins and fallen telegraph wires; while about the roadways lay the
shattered corpses of men, women, and children, upon whom the shells had
wrought their frightful work.

The bodies, mutilated, torn limb from limb, were sickening to gaze
upon.




CHAPTER XXXVI.

BABYLON BURNING.


Dynamite had shattered Charing Cross Station and the Hotel, for its
smoke-begrimed facade had been torn out, and the station yard was filled
with a huge pile of smouldering debris. On either side of the Strand
from Villiers Street to Temple Bar scarcely a window had been left
intact, and the roadway itself was quite impassable, for dozens of
buildings had been overthrown by shells, and what in many cases had been
handsome shops were now heaps of bricks, slates, furniture, and twisted
girders. The rain of fire continued. Dense black smoke rising in a huge
column from St. Martin's Church showed plainly what was the fate of that
noble edifice, while fire had now broken out at the Tivoli Music Hall,
and the clubs on Adelphi Terrace were also falling a prey to the flames.

The burning of Babylon was a sight of awful, appalling grandeur.

The few people remaining in the vicinity of the Strand who escaped the
flying missiles and falling buildings, sought what shelter they could,
and stood petrified by terror, knowing that every moment might be their
last, not daring to fly into the streets leading to Holborn, where they
could see the enemy's shells were still falling with unabated regularity
and frightful result, their courses marked by crashing buildings and
blazing ruins.

Looking from Charing Cross, the Strand seemed one huge glaring furnace.
Flames belched from windows on either side, and, bursting through roofs,
great tongues of fire shot upwards; blazing timbers fell into the
street; and as the buildings became gutted, and the fury of the
devouring element was spent, shattered walls tottered and fell into the
roadway. The terrific heat, the roar of the flames, the blinding smoke,
the stifling fumes of dynamite, the pungent, poisonous odour of
melinite, the clouds of dust, the splinters of stone and steel, and the
constant bursting of shells, combined to render the scene the most awful
ever witnessed in a single thoroughfare during the history of the world.

From Kensington to Bow, from Camberwell to Somers Town, from Clapham to
Deptford, the vast area of congested houses and tortuous streets was
being swept continually. South of the Thames the loss of life was
enormous, for thousands were unable to get beyond the zone of fire, and
many in Brixton, Clapham, Camberwell, and Kennington were either maimed
by flying fragments of shell, buried in the debris of their homes, or
burned to death. The disasters wrought by the Frenchmen's improved
long-range weapons were frightful.

London, the all-powerful metropolis, which had egotistically considered
herself the impregnable Citadel of the World, fell to pieces and was
consumed. She was frozen by terror, and lifeless. Her ancient monuments
were swept away, her wealth melted in her coffers, her priceless objects
of art were torn up and broken, and her streets ran with the blood of
her starving toilers.

Day dawned grey, with stormlight gloom. Rain-clouds scudded swiftly
across the leaden sky. Along the road in front of the Crystal Palace,
where the French batteries were established, the deafening discharges
that had continued incessantly during the night, and had smashed nearly
all the glass in the sides and roof of the Palace, suddenly ceased.

The officers were holding a consultation over despatches received from
the batteries at Tulse Hill, Streatham, Red Post Hill, One Tree Hill,
and Greenwich, all of which stated that ammunition had run short, and
they were therefore unable to continue the bombardment.

[Illustration: THE FRENCH BOMBARDING LONDON FROM THE CRYSTAL PALACE
PARADE.]

Neither of the ammunition trains of the two columns of the enemy had
arrived, for, although the bombarding batteries were unaware of it, both
had been captured and blown up by British Volunteers.

It was owing to this that the hostile guns were at last compelled to
cease their thunder, and to this fact also was due the fortunes of the
defenders in the events immediately following.

Our Volunteers occupying the line of defence north of London, through
Epping and Brentwood to Tilbury, had for the past three weeks been in
daily expectation of an attempt on the part of the invaders to land in
Essex, and were amazed at witnessing this sudden bombardment. From their
positions on the northern heights they could distinctly see how
disastrous was the enemy's fire, and although they had been informed by
telegraph of the reverses we had sustained at Guildford and Leatherhead,
yet they had no idea that the actual attack on the metropolis would be
made so swiftly. However, they lost not a moment. It was evident that
the enemy had no intention of effecting a landing in Essex; therefore,
with commendable promptitude, they decided to move across the Thames
immediately, to reinforce their comrades in Surrey. Leaving the 2nd and
4th West Riding Artillery, under Col. Hoffmann and Col. N. Creswick,
V.D., at Tilbury, and the Lincolnshire, Essex, and Worcestershire
Volunteer Artillery, under Col. G. M. Hutton, V.D., Col. S. L. Howard,
V.D., and Col. W. Ottley, the greater part of the Norfolk,
Staffordshire, Tay, Aberdeen, Manchester, and Northern Counties Field
Brigades moved south with all possible speed. From Brentwood, the 1st,
2nd, 3rd, and 4th Volunteer Battalions of the Norfolk Regiment, under
Col. A. C. Dawson, Col. E. H. H. Combe, Col. H. E. Hyde, V.D., and Col.
C. W. J. Unthank, V.D.; the 1st and 2nd North Staffordshire, under Col.
W. H. Dutton, V.D., and Col. F. D. Mort, V.D.; and the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd
South Staffordshire, under Col. J. B. Cochrane, V.D., Col. T. T. Fisher,
V.D., and Col. E. Nayler, V.D.; the 2nd, 4th, 5th, and 6th Royal
Highlanders, under Col. W. A. Gordon, V.D., Col. Sir R. D. Moncreiffe,
Col. Sir R. Menzies, V.D., and Col. Erskine; the 7th Argyll and
Sutherland Highlanders, under Col. J. Porteous, V.D.; the 3rd, 4th, and
5th Gordon Highlanders, under Col. A. D. Fordyce, Col. G. Jackson, V.D.,
and Col. J. Johnston--were, as early as 2 A.M., on their way to London.

At this critical hour the Engineer and Railway Volunteer Staff Corps
rendered invaluable services. Under the direction of Col. William Birt,
trains held in readiness by the Great Eastern Railway brought the
brigades rapidly to Liverpool Street, whence they marched by a
circuitous route beyond the zone of fire by way of Marylebone,
Paddington, Kensington Gardens, Walham Green, and across Wandsworth
Bridge, thence to Upper Tooting, where they fell in with a large force
of our Regular infantry and cavalry, who were on their way to outflank
the enemy.

Attacking a detachment of the French at Tooting, they captured several
guns, destroyed the enemy's field telegraph, and proceeded at once to
Streatham, where the most desperate resistance was offered. A fierce
fight occurred across Streatham Common, and over to Lower Norwood and
Gipsy Hill, in which both sides lost very heavily. Nevertheless our
Volunteers from Essex, although they had been on the march the greater
part of the night, fought bravely, and inflicted terrible punishment
upon their foe. The 3rd and 4th Volunteer Battalions of the Gordon
Highlanders and the 1st Norfolk, attacking a French position near the
mouth of the railway tunnel, displayed conspicuous bravery, and
succeeded in completely annihilating their opponents; while in an
opposite direction, towards Tooting, several troops of French cavalry
were cut up and taken prisoners by two battalions of Royal Highlanders.

The batteries on Streatham Hill having been assaulted and taken, the
force of defenders pushed quickly onward to Upper Norwood, where our
cavalry, sweeping along Westow Hill and Church Street, fell upon the
battery in front of the Crystal Palace. The enemy, owing to the
interruption of their field telegraph, were unaware of their presence,
and were completely surprised. Nevertheless French infantrymen rushed
into the Crystal Palace Hotel, the White Swan, Stanton Harcourt, the
Knoll, Rocklands, and other houses at both ends of the Parade, and from
the windows poured forth withering volleys from their Lebels. Our
cavalry, riding down the broad Parade, used their sabres upon the
artillerymen, and the whole of the French troops were quickly in a
confused mass, unable to act with effect, and suffering appallingly from
the steady fire of our Volunteers, who very soon cleared the enemy from
the White Swan, and, having been drawn up outside, poured forth a
galling rifle fire right along the enemy's position. Suddenly there was
loud shouting, and the British "Cease fire" sounded. The French, though
fighting hard, were falling back gradually down the hill towards
Sydenham Station, when suddenly shots were heard, and turbaned cavalry
came riding into them at a terrific pace from the rear.

The British officers recognised the new-comers as a squadron of Bengal
Lancers! At last India had sent us help, and our men sent up a loud
cheer. A large force of cavalry and infantry, together with two
regiments of Goorkas, had, it appeared, been landed at Sheerness. They
had contemplated landing in Hampshire, but, more unfortunate than some
of their compatriots who had effected a landing near Southampton, they
were driven through the Straits of Dover by the enemy's cruisers.
Marching north in company with a force from Chatham, they had earlier
that morning attacked and routed the enemy's right flank at Blackheath,
and, after capturing the battery of the foe at Greenwich, greater part
of the escort of which had been sent over to Lewisham an hour before,
they slaughtered a battalion of Zouaves, and had then extended across to
Denmark Hill, where a sanguinary struggle occurred.

The French on Dog Kennel, Red Post, Herne, and Tulse Hills turned their
deadly machine guns upon them, and for a long time all the positions
held out. At length, however, by reason of a splendid charge made by the
Bengal Lancers, the battery at Red Post Hill was taken and the enemy
slaughtered. During the next half-hour a fierce hand-to-hand struggle
took place up Dog Kennel Hill from St. Saviour's Infirmary, and
presently, when the defenders gained the spur of the hill, they fought
the enemy gallantly in Grove Lane, Private Road, Bromar Road, Camberwell
Grove, and adjoining roads. Time after time the Indian cavalry charged,
and the Goorkas, with their keen knives, hacked their way into those of
the enemy who rallied. For nearly an hour the struggle continued
desperately, showers of bullets from magazine rifles sweeping along the
usually quiet suburban thoroughfares, until the roads were heaped with
dead and dying, and the houses on either side bore evidence of the
bloody fray. Then at last the guns placed along the hills all fell into
our hands, and the French were almost completely swept out of existence.

Many were the terrible scenes witnessed in the gardens of the quaint
last-century houses on Denmark Hill. Around those old-world residences,
standing along the road leading down to Half Moon Lane, time-mellowed
relics of an age bygone, Indians fought with Zouaves, and British
Volunteers struggled fiercely hand to hand with French infantrymen. The
quiet old-fashioned quarter, that was an aristocratic retreat when
Camberwell was but a sylvan village with an old toll gate, when cows
chewed the cud upon Walworth Common, and when the Walworth Road had not
a house in the whole of it, was now the scene of a frightful massacre.
The deafening explosions of cordite from magazine rifles, the exultant
shouts of the victors and the hoarse shrieks of the dying, awakened the
echoes in those quaint old gardens, with their Dutch-cut zigzag walks,
enclosed by ancient red brick walls, moss-grown, lichen covered, and
half hidden by ivy, honeysuckle, and creepers. Those spacious grounds,
where men were now being mercilessly slaughtered, had been the scene of
many a brilliant _fete champetre_, where splendid satin-coated _beaux_,
all smiles and _ailes de pigeon_, whispered scandal behind the fans of
dainty dames in high-dressed wigs and patches, or, clad as Watteau
shepherds, had danced the _al fresco_ minuet with similarly attired
shepherdesses, and later on played _piquet_ and drank champagne till
dawn.

[Illustration: GOORKAS SLAUGHTERING THE FRENCH ARTILLERY AT GREENWICH
OBSERVATORY.]

In the good old Georgian days, when Johnson walked daily under the trees
in Gough Square, when Macklin was playing the "Man of the World," and
when traitors' heads blackened on Temple Bar, this colony was one of the
most rural, exclusive, and gay in the vicinity of London. Alas, how it
has decayed! Cheap "desirable residences" have sprung up around it, the
hand of the jerry-building Vandal has touched it, the sound of traffic
roars about it; yet still there is a charm in those quaint old gardens
of a forgotten era. From under the dark yew hedges the jonquils still
peep out early--the flowers themselves are those old-fashioned sweet
ones beloved of our grandmothers--and the tea roses still blossom on the
crumbling walls and fill the air with their fragrance. But in this
terrible struggle the walls were used as defences, the bushes were torn
down and trampled under foot, and the flowers hung broken on their
stalks, bespattered with men's blood!

Proceeding south again, the defenders successfully attacked the strong
batteries on One Tree Hill at Honor Oak, and on Sydenham Hill and Forest
Hill, and then extending across to the Crystal Palace, had joined hands
with our Volunteers from Essex, where they were now wreaking vengeance
for the ruthless destruction caused in London.

The bloodshed along the Crystal Palace Parade was fearful. The French
infantry and artillery, overwhelmed by the onward rush of the defenders,
and now under the British crossfire, fell in hundreds. Dark-faced Bengal
Lancers and Goorkas, with British Hussars and Volunteers, descended upon
them with appalling swiftness; and so complete was the slaughter, that
of the whole force that had effected that terribly effectual bombardment
from Sydenham, not more than a dozen survived.

By noon many of the shops on Westow Hill and private residences on
College Hill and Sydenham Hill had been wantonly ignited by the enemy;
but when the firing ceased some hours later, the roads were heaped with
the corpses of those whose mission it had been to destroy London.

Of all those batteries which had caused such frightful desolation and
loss of life during the night, not one now remained. The two French
columns had been swiftly wiped out of existence; and although our forces
had suffered very considerably, they nevertheless were able to go south
to Croydon later that afternoon, in order to take part in resisting the
vigorous and desperate attack which they knew would sooner or later be
made by the whole French army massed beyond the Surrey Hills. The sun
was on the horizon, and the shadows were already deepening.

Assistance had arrived tardily, for the damage to property in London
during the night had been enormous; nevertheless at this the eleventh
hour we had inflicted upon the French a crushing defeat, and now England
waited, trembling and breathless, wondering what would be the final
outcome of this fierce, bloody struggle for our national existence.




CHAPTER XXXVII.

FIGHTING ON THE SURREY HILLS.


Our valiant defenders were striking swift, decisive blows for England's
honour. The French, demoralised by their severe defeat in the south of
London, and suffering considerable loss in every other direction, fought
desperately during the two days following the disastrous bombardment.

In darkness and sunlight fierce contests took place along the Surrey
Hills, where our Volunteers, under Major-Gen. Lord Methuen, were still
entrenched. Every copse bristled with rifles; red coats gleamed among
the foliage, and winding highways were, alas! strewn with corpses.
Guildford had again been reoccupied by our Regulars, who were
reorganising; and Leatherhead, holding out for another day, was retaken,
after a terribly hard-fought battle, by the Highland, South of Scotland,
and Glasgow Brigades, with the 1st Ayrshire and Galloway Artillery,
under Col. J. G. Sturrock, V.D.; 1st Lanarkshire, under Col. R. J.
Bennett, V.D.; 1st Aberdeenshire, under Col. J. Ogston, V.D.; and 1st
North Riding Yorkshire Volunteer Artillery, under Major C. L. Bell. In
such a splendid and gallant manner had our comparatively small force
manoeuvred, that on the second night following the bombardment the whole
of the invaders who had penetrated beyond our line of defence towards
the metropolis had been completely wiped out, in addition to which the
breach in our line had been filled up by strong reinforcements, and the
enemy driven from the high ground between Box Hill and Guildford.

The invaders, finding how vigorously we repelled any attack, made
terrific onslaughts on our position at various points they believed were
vulnerable, but everywhere they were hurled back with appalling
slaughter. Volunteers from Australia and the Cape, in addition to the
other contingent of 10,000 Indian native troops, had been landed near
Southampton, and had advanced to assist in this terrific struggle, upon
the result of which the future of our Empire depended. Among these
Colonials were 500 Victorian Rangers, 900 Victoria Mounted Rifles, and
seven companies of Queensland Mounted Infantry, with two ambulance
corps.

The Indians landed in splendid form, having brought their full war
equipment with them without any contribution whatever from the Home
Government, as it will be remembered they did when they landed at Malta
during Lord Beaconsfield's administration. Having received intelligence
of the movements of the two columns of the enemy that had gone to London
after taking Leatherhead and Guildford, they pushed on to Petworth. By
the time they arrived there, however, both towns had been recaptured by
the British, who were then being severely harassed by the enemy massed
along the south side of our defensive line. Although numerically
inferior to the enemy occupying that part of the country, the Indians
were already well accustomed to actual warfare, the majority having been
engaged in operations against the hill tribes; therefore the commander
decided to push on at once, and endeavour to outflank the large French
force who with some Russian infantry had again attacked Guildford, and
the manner in which this was accomplished was a single illustration of
the valuable assistance the Indians rendered us in these days of
bloodshed and despair.

One of the native officers of a Sikh regiment, the Subadar Banerji
Singh, having served with Sir Peter Lumsden's expeditionary force some
years before, had frequently come into contact with the Russians, and
could speak Russian better than some of the soldiers of the Tsar's
Asiatic corps. The commander of the Indian force, determined that his
men should strike their blow and sustain their reputation, advanced with
great caution from Petworth, and late in the afternoon of the second
evening after the bombardment of London, two Sikhs scouting in front of
the advance guard sighted a Russian bivouac on the road on the other
side of the Wye Canal beyond Loxwood Bridge, which latter had been
demolished. The Indians were thereupon halted on the road which runs
through the wood near Plaistow, and the officers held council. Their
information was unfortunately very meagre and their knowledge of the
country necessarily vague; but the Subadar Banerji Singh, who was of
unusually fair complexion, volunteered to don a Russian uniform, which
had been taken with other property from a dead officer found upon the
road, and endeavour in that disguise to penetrate the enemy's lines.

Towards dusk he set out on his perilous journey, and, on arriving at the
wrecked bridge, shouted over to two Russian sentries, explaining that he
had been wounded and left behind after the fight at Haslemere, and
requesting their assistance to enable him to cross. Believing him to be
one of their infantry officers, they told him there were no means of
crossing unless he could swim, as their engineers had sounded the canal
before blowing up the bridge, and had found it twenty feet deep.

Banerji Singh questioned them artfully as to the position of their
column, which they said intended, in co-operation with a great force of
French cavalry and infantry, to again attack Guildford at dawn; and
further, they told him in confidence that the rearguard to which they
belonged only numbered about two thousand men, who had halted for the
night with the transport waggons on the Guildford road, about two miles
north of Alfold.

Then, after further confidences, they suggested that he should continue
along the canal bank for about a mile and a half, where there was a
bridge still intact, and near which he would find the rearguard.

Thanking them, he withdrew into the falling gloom, and a quarter of an
hour later entered the presence of his commanding officer, who, of
course, was delighted with the information thus elicited. The Subadar
had carefully noted all the features of the canal bank and broken
bridge, and the valuable knowledge he had obtained was at once put to
account, and the General at once formed his force into two divisions.
Then, after issuing instructions for the following day, he gave orders
for a bivouac for the night.

The pioneers, however, were far from idle. During the night they worked
with unflagging energy, quietly preparing a position for the guns to
cover the contemplated passage at Loxwood Bridge, and before day broke
the guns were mounted, and the Engineers were ready for action. As soon
as there was sufficient light the laying of the pontoon commenced, but
was at once noticed by the Russians, who opened fire, and very soon it
was evident that information had been conveyed to the enemy's rearguard,
and that they were returning to contest the passage.

In the meantime one division of the Indians, setting out before
daybreak, had been cautiously working round to the main road crossing
the canal north of Alfold, and succeeded in getting over soon after the
majority of the Russian rearguard had left for the assistance of the
detachment at Loxwood Bridge, and, after a sharp, decisive fight,
succeeded in capturing the whole of the transport waggons. The
Engineers, with the Indians, had in the meantime succeeded in completing
their pontoon under cover of the guns, and the second division of the
Indians, dark-faced, daring fellows, rushed across to the opposite bank,
and descended upon the enemy with frightful effect. In the hot
engagement that followed, the Russians, now attacked in both front and
rear, were totally annihilated, and thus the whole of the reserve
ammunition of the force assaulting Guildford fell into our hands.

This victory on the enemy's left flank caused the tide of events to turn
in our favour, for the huge Russian and French columns that intended to
again carry the hills from Dorking to Guildford were hampered by want
of ammunition, and so vigorously did our Volunteers along the hills
defend the repeated attacks, that the invaders were again driven back.
Then, as they drew south to recover themselves, they were attacked on
their left by a large body of our Regulars, and in the rear by the
Indians and Australians. Over the country stretching across from Cranley
through Ewhurst, Ockley, Capel, and Newdigate to Horley, the fighting
spread, as each side struggled desperately for the mastery.

The fate of England, nay, of our vast British Empire, was in the hands
of those of her stalwart sons of many races who were now wielding
valiantly the rifle and the sword. Through that blazing September day,
while the people of London wailed among the ruins of their homes, and,
breathlessly anxious, awaited news of their victory or their doom, the
whole of East Kent, the southern portion of Surrey and northern Sussex,
became one huge battlefield. Of the vast bodies of troops massed over
hill and dale every regiment became engaged.

The butchery was awful.




CHAPTER XXXVIII.

NAVAL BATTLE OFF DUNGENESS.


On sea England was now showing the world how she still could fight.
Following the desperate struggle off Sardinia, in which Italy had
rendered us such valuable help, our Mediterranean Squadron attacked the
French Fleet off Cape Tresforcas, on the coast of Morocco, and after a
terrific battle, extending over two days, defeated them with heavy loss,
several of the enemy's vessels being torpedoed and sunk, two of them
rammed, and one so badly damaged that her captain ran her ashore on
Alboran Island.

After this hard-earned victory, our Squadron passed out of the
Mediterranean, and, returning home, had joined hands with the battered
remnant of our Channel Fleet, now reinforced by several vessels recalled
from foreign stations. Therefore, while the enemy marched upon London,
we had collected our naval strength on the south coast, and at length
made a final descent upon the enemy in British waters. The British
vessels that passed Beachy Head coming up Channel on the night of the
bombardment of London included the _Empress of India_, _Inflexible_,
_Nile_, _Trafalgar_, _Magnificent_, _Hood_, _Warspite_, _Dreadnought_,
_Camperdown_, _Blenheim_, _Barham_, _Benbow_, _Monarch_, _Anson_,
_Immortalite_, and _Royal Sovereign_, with four of the new cruisers
built under the Spencer programme, viz. the _Terrible_, _Powerful_,
_Doris_, and _Isis_, and a number of smaller vessels, torpedo boats, and
"destroyers."

At the same hour that our vessels were passing Beachy Head, the
Coastguard at Sandwich Battery were suddenly alarmed by electric signals
being flashed from a number of warships that were slowly passing the
Gull Stream revolving light towards the Downs. The sensation these
lights caused among the Coastguard and Artillery was immediately
dispelled when it was discovered that the warships were not hostile, but
friendly; that the Kaiser had sent a German Squadron, in two divisions,
to assist us, and that these vessels were on their way to unite with our
own Fleet. The first division, it was ascertained, consisted of the
_Baden_, flying the flag of Vice-Admiral Koester; the _Sachen_,
commanded by Prince Henry of Prussia; the _Wuertemberg_, and the
_Bayern_--all of 7400 tons, and each carrying 18 guns and nearly 400
men; while the despatch boat _Pfeil_, the new dynamite cruiser _Trier_,
and a number of torpedo boats, accompanied them. The second division,
under Rear-Admiral von Diederichs on board the _Koenig Wilhelm_,
consisted of the _Brandenburg_, _Kuerfurst Friedrich Wilhelm_, and
_Woerth_, each of 10,300 tons, and carrying 32 guns; the _Deutschland_
and the _Friedrich der Grosse_, with the despatch vessel _Wacht_, and
several torpedo gunboats and other craft.

Before dawn, the British and German Fleets united near South Sand Head
light, off the South Foreland, and it was decided to commence the attack
without delay. Turning west again, the British ships, accompanied by
those of the Emperor William, proceeded slowly down Channel in search of
the enemy, which they were informed by signal had been sighted by the
Coastguard at East Wear, near Folkestone, earlier in the night. Just as
day broke, however, when the defenders were opposite Dymchurch, about
eight miles from land, the enemy were discovered in force. Apparently
the French and Russian Fleets had combined, and were preparing for a
final descent upon Dover, or an assault upon the Thames defences; and it
could be seen that, with both forces so strong, the fight would
inevitably be one to the death.

Little time was occupied in preliminaries. Soon our ships were within
range in fighting formation in single column in line abreast, while the
French, under Admiral le Bourgeois, advanced in single column in line
ahead. The French flagship, leading, was within 2000 yards of the
British line, and had not disclosed the nature of her attack. The
enemy's Admiral had signalled to the ships astern of him to follow his
motions together, as nearly as possible to concentrate their guns at
point blank, right ahead, and to pour their shot on the instant of
passing our ships. He had but three minutes to decide upon the attack,
and as he apparently elected to pierce the centre of our line, the
British had no time to counteract him. The French Admiral therefore
continued his course, and as he passed between the _Camperdown_ and
_Blenheim_, he discharged his guns, receiving the British broadsides and
bow fire at the same time. In a few minutes, however, it was seen that
the French attack had been frustrated, and as dawn spread the fighting
increased, and the lines became broken. The ponderous guns of the
battleships thundered, and ere long the whole of the great naval force
was engaged in this final struggle for England's freedom. The three
powerful French battleships, _Jaureguiberry_, _Jemappes_, and
_Devastation_, and the submarine torpedo boat _Gustave Zede_, fiercely
attacked the _Brandenburg_ and the _Koenig Wilhelm_; while the
_Camperdown_, _Anson_, _Dreadnought_, and _Warspite_ fought desperately
with half a dozen of the enemy's battleships, all of which suffered
considerably. Our torpedo boats, darting swiftly hither and thither,
performed much effective service, and many smart manoeuvres were carried
out by astute officers in command of those wasps of the sea. In one
instance a torpedo boat, which had designs upon a Russian ironclad,
obtained cover by sending in front of her a gunboat which emitted an
immense quantity of dense smoke. This of course obscured from view the
torpedo boat under the gunboat's stern, and those on board the Tsar's
battleship pounded away at the gunboat, unconscious of the presence of
the dangerous little craft. Just as the gunboat got level with the
battleship, however, the torpedo boat emerged from the cloud of smoke,
and, darting along, ejected its Whitehead with such precision that five
minutes later the Russian leviathan sank beneath the dark green waters.
Almost at the same moment, the new German dynamite cruiser destroyed a
French cruiser, and a fierce and sanguinary encounter took place between
the _Immortalite_ and the _Trehouart_. The former's pair of 22-tonners,
in combination with her ten 6-inch guns, wrought awful havoc on board
the French vessel; nevertheless, from the turret of her opponent there
came a deadly fire which spread death and destruction through the ship.
Suddenly the Frenchman swung round, and with her quick-firing guns
shedding a deadly storm of projectiles, came full upon the British
vessel. The impact and the angle at which she was struck was not,
however, sufficient to ram her, consequently the two vessels became
entangled, and amid the rain of bullets the Frenchmen made a desperate
attempt to board our ship. A few who managed to spring upon the
_Immortalite's_ deck were cut down instantly, but a couple of hundred
fully armed men were preparing to make a rush to overpower our
bluejackets. On board the British cruiser, however, the enemy's
intentions had been divined, and certain precautions taken. The
_Fusiliers Marins_, armed with Lebels and cutlasses, suddenly made a
desperate, headlong rush upon the British cruiser's deck, but just as
fifty of them gained their goal, a great hose attached to one of the
boilers was brought into play, and scalding water poured upon the enemy.
This, in addition to some hand charges at that moment thrown, proved
successful in repelling the attack; but just as the survivors retreated
in disorder there was a dull explosion, and then it was evident, from
the confusion on board the French ship, that she had been torpedoed by a
German boat, and was sinking.

Humanely, our vessel, the _Immortalite_ rescued the whole of her
opponent's men ere she sank; but it was found that in the engagement her
captain and half her crew had been killed. On every hand the fight
continued with unabated fierceness; every gun was worked to its utmost
capacity, and amid the smoke and din every vessel was swept from stem
to stern. As morning wore on, the enemy met with one or two successes.
Our two new cruisers _Terrible_ and _Powerful_ had been sunk by French
torpedoes; the _Hood_ had been rammed by the _Amiral Baudin_, and gone
to the bottom with nearly every soul on board; while the German despatch
boat _Wacht_ had been captured, and seven of our torpedo boats had been
destroyed. During the progress of the fight, the vessels came gradually
nearer Dungeness, and at eleven o'clock they were still firing at each
other, with appalling results on either side. At such close quarters did
this great battle occur, that the loss of life was awful, and throughout
the ships the destruction was widespread and frightful. About noon the
enemy experienced two reverses. The French battleship _Formidable_ blew
up with a terrific report, filling the air with debris, her magazine
having exploded; while just at that moment the _Courbet_, whose
48-tonners had caused serious damage to the _Warspite_, was suddenly
rammed and sunk by the _Empress of India_.

This, the decisive battle, was the most vigorously contested naval fight
during the whole of the hostilities. The scene was terrible. The steel
leviathans of the sea were being rent asunder and pulverised by the
terribly destructive modern arms, and amid the roar and crashing of the
guns, shells were bursting everywhere, carrying away funnels, fighting
tops, and superstructures, and wrecking the crowded spaces between the
decks. Turrets and barbettes were torn away, guns dismounted by the
enormous shells from heavy guns; steel armour was torn up and thrown
aside like paper, and many shots entering broadsides, passed clean
through and out at the other side. Whitehead torpedoes, carrying heavy
charges of gun-cotton, exploded now and then under the enemy's ships;
while both British and French torpedo boat "destroyers," running at the
speed of an ordinary train, were sinking or capturing where they could.

Through the dull, gloomy afternoon the battle continued. Time after time
our ships met with serious reverses, for the _Anson_ was sunk by the
Russian flagship _Alexander II._, assisted by two French cruisers, and
this catastrophe was followed almost immediately by the torpedoing of
the new British cruiser _Doris_, and the capture of the new German
dynamite cruiser _Trier_.

[Illustration:
_H.M.S. Royal Sovereign._ _H.M.S. Camperdown._ _Amiral Baudin._
_Russian flagship blown up._
_H.M.S. Warspite._ _Cecille._
FINAL BATTLE OFF DUNGENESS: "THE SCENE OF DESTRUCTION WAS APPALLING."]

By this time, however, the vessels had approached within three miles of
Dungeness, and the _Camperdown_, _Empress of India_, _Royal Sovereign_,
_Inflexible_, and _Warspite_, lying near one another, fought nine of the
enemy's vessels, inflicting upon them terrible punishment. Shots from
the 67-tonners of the _Empress of India_, _Royal Sovereign_, and
_Camperdown_, combined with those from the 22-tonners of the _Warspite_,
swept the enemy's vessels with devastating effect, and during the
three-quarters of an hour that the fight between these vessels lasted,
the scene of destruction was appalling. Suddenly, with a brilliant flash
and deafening detonation, the Russian flagship _Alexander II._, one of
the vessels now engaging the five British ships, blew up and sank, and
ere the enemy could recover from the surprise this disaster caused them,
the _Camperdown_ rammed the _Amiral Baudin_, while the _Warspite_ sank
the French cruiser _Cecille_, the submarine boat _Gustave Zede_, and
afterwards captured the torpedo gunboat _Bombe_.

This rapid series of terrible disasters apparently demoralised the
enemy. They fought recklessly, and amid the din and confusion two
Russian vessels collided, and were so seriously damaged that both
settled down, their crews being rescued by British torpedo boats.
Immediately afterwards, however, a frightful explosion rent the air with
a deafening sound that dwarfed into insignificance the roar of the heavy
guns, and the French battleship _Jaureguiberry_ was completely broken
into fragments, scarcely any of her hull remaining. The enemy were
amazed. A few moments later another explosion occurred, even louder than
the first. For a second the French battleship _Devastation_, which had
been engaging the _Royal Sovereign_, was obscured by a brilliant flash,
then, as fragments of steel and human limbs were precipitated on every
side, it was seen that that vessel also had been completely blown out of
the water!

The enemy stood appalled. The defenders themselves were at first
dumfounded. A few moments later, however, it became known throughout the
British ships that the battery at Dungeness, two miles and a half
distant, were rendering assistance with the new pneumatic gun, the
secret of which the Government had guarded so long and so well. Five
years before, this frightfully deadly weapon had been tested, and proved
so successful that the one gun made was broken up and the plans
preserved with the utmost secrecy in a safe at the War Office. Now,
however, several of the weapons had been constructed, and one of them
had been placed in the battery at Dungeness. The British vessels drew
off to watch the awful effect of the fire from these marvellous and
terribly destructive engines of modern warfare. The enemy would not
surrender, so time after time the deafening explosions sounded, and time
after time the hostile ships were shattered into fragments.

Each shot fired by this new pneumatic gun contained 900 lbs. of
dynamite, which could strike effectively at four miles! The result of
such a charge exploding on a ship was appalling; the force was terrific,
and could not be withstood by the strongest vessel ever constructed.
Indeed, the great armoured vessels were being pulverised as easily as
glass balls struck by bullets, and every moment hundreds of poor fellows
were being hurled into eternity. At last the enemy discovered the
distant source of the fire, and prepared to escape beyond range; but in
this they were unsuccessful, for, after a renewed and terrific fight, in
which three French ironclads were sunk and two of our cruisers were
torpedoed, our force and our allies the Germans succeeded in capturing
the remainder of the hostile ships and torpedo boats.

The struggle had been frightful, but the victory was magnificent.

That same night the British ships steamed along the Sussex coast and
captured the whole of the French and Russian transports, the majority of
which were British vessels that had been seized while lying in French
and Russian ports at the time war was declared. The vessels were lying
between Beachy Head and Selsey Bill, and by their capture the enemy's
means of retreat were at once totally cut off.

Thus, at the eleventh hour, the British Navy had shown itself worthy of
its reputation, and England regained the supremacy of the seas.




CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE DAY OF RECKONING.


The Day of Reckoning dawned.

On land the battle was terrific; the struggle was the most fierce and
bloody of any during the invasion. The British Regulars holding the high
ground along from Crowborough to Ticehurst, and from Etchingham, through
Brightling and Ashburnham, down to Battle, advanced in a huge fighting
line upon the enemy's base around Eastbourne. The onslaught was
vigorously repelled, and the battle across the Sussex Downs quickly
became a most wild and sanguinary one; but as the day passed, although
the defenders were numerically very weak, they nevertheless gradually
effected terrible slaughter, capturing the whole of the enemy's stores,
and taking nearly five thousand prisoners.

In Kent the French had advanced from East Grinstead through Edenbridge,
extending along the hills south of Westerham, and in consequence of
these rapid successes the depot of stores and ammunition which had been
maintained at Sevenoaks was being removed to Bromley by rail; but as the
officer commanding the British troops at Eynsford could see that it
would most probably be impossible to get them all away before Sevenoaks
was attacked, orders were issued that at a certain hour the remainder
should be destroyed. The force covering the removal only consisted of
two battalions of the Duke of Cambridge's Own (Middlesex) Regiment and
half a squadron of the 9th Lancers; but the hills north of Sevenoaks
from Luddesdown through Stanstead, Otford, Shoreham, Halstead,
Farnborough, and Keston were still held by our Volunteers. These
infantry battalions included the 1st and 2nd Derbyshire Regiment
(Sherwood Foresters), under Col. A. Buchanan, V.D., and Col. E. Hall,
V.D.; the 1st Nottinghamshire, under Col. A. Cantrell-Hubbersty; the 4th
Derbyshire, under Lord Newark; the 1st and 2nd Lincolnshire, under Col.
J. G. Williams, V.D., and Col. R. G. Ellison; the 1st Leicestershire,
under Col. S. Davis, V.D.; the 1st Northamptonshire, under Col. T. J.
Walker, V.D.; the 1st and 2nd Shropshire Light Infantry, under Col. J.
A. Anstice, V.D., and Col. R. T. Masefield; the 1st Herefordshire, under
Col. T. H. Purser, V.D.; the 1st, 3rd, and 4th South Wales Borderers,
under Col. T. Wood, Col. J. A. Bradney, and Col. H. Burton, V.D.; the
1st and 2nd Warwickshire, under Col. W. S. Jervis and Col. L. V. Loyd;
the 1st and 2nd Welsh Fusiliers, under Col. C. S. Mainwaring and Col. B.
G. D. Cooke, V.D.; the 2nd Welsh Regiment, under Col. A. P. Vivian,
V.D.; the 3rd Glamorganshire, under Col. J. C. Richardson, V.D.; and the
1st Worcestershire, under Col. W. H. Talbot, V.D.; while the artillery
consisted of the 3rd Kent, under Col. Hozier; the 1st Monmouthshire,
under Col. C. T. Wallis; the 1st Shropshire and Staffordshire, under
Col. J. Strick, V.D.; and the 5th Lancashire, under Col. W. H. Hunt.

The events which occurred outside Sevenoaks are perhaps best described
by Capt. A. E. Brown, of the 4th V.B. West Surrey Regiment, who was
acting as one of the special correspondents of the _Standard_. He
wrote--

"I was in command of a piquet consisting of fifty men of my regiment at
Turvan's Farm, and about three hours before the time to destroy the
remainder of the stores at Sevenoaks my sentries were suddenly driven in
by the enemy, who were advancing from the direction of Froghall. As I
had orders to hold the farm at any cost, we immediately prepared for
action. Fortunately we had a fair supply of provisions and plenty of
ammunition, for since War had broken out the place had been utilised as
a kind of outlying fort, although at this time only my force occupied
it. Our equipment included two machine guns, and it was mainly by the
aid of these we were saved.

"The strength of the attacking force appeared to be about four
battalions of French infantry and a battalion of Zouaves, with two
squadrons of Cuirassiers. Their intention was, no doubt, to cut the
railway line near Twitton, and thus prevent the removal of the Sevenoaks
stores. As soon as the cavalry scouts came within range we gave them a
few sharp volleys, and those who were able immediately retired in
disorder. Soon afterwards, however, the farm was surrounded, but I had
previously sent information to our reserves, and suggested that a sharp
watch should be kept upon the line from Twitton to Sevenoaks, for of
course I could do nothing with my small force. Dusk was now creeping on,
and as the enemy remained quiet for a short time it seemed as though
they intended to assault our position when it grew dark.

"Before night set in, however, my messenger, who had managed to elude
the vigilance of the enemy, returned, with a letter from a brother
officer stating that a great naval battle had been fought in the
Channel; and further, that the enemy's retreat had been cut off, and
that the Kentish defenders had already retaken the invaders' base at
Eastbourne. If we could, therefore, still hold the Surrey Hills, there
was yet a chance of thoroughly defeating the French and Russians, even
though one strong body was reported as having taken Guildford and
Leatherhead, and was now marching upon London.

"As evening drew on we could hear heavy firing in the direction of
Sevenoaks, but as we also heard a train running it became evident that
we still held the station. Nevertheless, soon after dark there was a
brilliant flash which for a second lit up the country around like day,
and a terrific report followed. We knew the remainder of our stores and
ammunition had been demolished in order that it should not fall into the
enemy's hands!

"Shortly afterwards we were vigorously attacked, and our position
quickly became almost untenable by the dozens of bullets projected in
every direction where the flash of our rifles could be seen. Very soon
some of the farm outbuildings fell into the hands of the Frenchmen, and
they set them on fire, together with a number of haystacks, in order to
burn us out. This move, however, proved pretty disastrous to them, for
the leaping flames quickly rendered it light as day, and showed them up,
while at the same time flashes from our muzzles were almost invisible to
them. Thus we were enabled to bring our two machine guns into action,
and break up every party of Frenchmen who showed themselves. Away over
Sevenoaks there was a glare in the sky, for the enemy were looting and
burning the town. Meanwhile, however, our men who had been defending the
place had retreated to Dunton Green after blowing up the stores, and
there they re-formed and were quickly moving off in the direction of
Twitton. Fortunately they had heard the commencement of the attack on
us, and the commander, halting his force, had sent out scouts towards
Chevening, and it appeared they reached us just at the moment the enemy
had fired the stacks. They worked splendidly, and, after going nearly
all round the enemy's position, returned and reported to their Colonel,
who at once resolved to relieve us.

"As may be imagined, we were in a most critical position by this time,
especially as we were unaware that assistance was so near. We had been
ordered to hold the farm, and we meant to do it as long as breath
remained in our bodies. All my men worked magnificently, and displayed
remarkable coolness, even at the moment when death stared us in the
face. The reports of the scouts enabled their Colonel to make his
disposition very carefully, and it was not long before the enemy were
almost completely surrounded. We afterwards learnt that our reserves at
Stockholm Wood had sent out a battalion, which fortunately came in touch
with the survivors of the Sevenoaks force just as they opened a
desperate onslaught upon the enemy.

"With the fierce flames and blinding smoke from the burning stacks
belching in our faces, we fought on with fire around us on every side.
As the fire drew nearer to us the heat became intense, the showers of
sparks galled us almost as much as the enemy's bullets, and some of us
had our eyebrows and hair singed by the fierce flames. Indeed, it was as
much as we could do to keep our ammunition from exploding; nevertheless
we kept up our stream of lead, pouring volley after volley upon those
who had attacked us. Nevertheless, with such a barrier of flame and
obscuring smoke between us we could see but little in the darkness
beyond, and we all knew that if we emerged from cover we should be
picked off easily and not a man would survive. The odds were against us.
More than twenty of my brave fellows had fired their last shot, and now
lay with their dead upturned faces looking ghastly in the brilliant
glare, while a number of others had sunk back wounded. The heat was
frightful, the smoke stifling, and I had just given up all hope of
relief, and had set my teeth, determined to die like an Englishman
should, when we heard a terrific volley of musketry at close quarters,
and immediately afterwards a dozen British bugles sounded the charge.
The scene of carnage that followed was terrible. Our comrades gave one
volley from their magazines rifles, and then charged with the bayonet,
taking the enemy completely by surprise.

"The Frenchmen tried to rally, but in vain, and among those huge burning
barns and blazing ricks they all fell or were captured. Dozens of them
struggled valiantly till the last; but, refusing to surrender, they were
slaughtered amid a most frightful scene of blood and fire. The events of
that night were horrible, and the true extent of the losses on both
sides was only revealed when the flames died down and the parting clouds
above heralded another grey and toilsome day."

Late on the previous evening the advance guard of the enemy proceeding
north towards Caterham came in touch with the defenders north of
Godstone. The French cavalry had seized Red Hill Junction Station at
sundown, and some of their scouts suddenly came upon a detached post of
the 17th Middlesex Volunteers at Tyler's Green, close to Godstone. A
very sharp skirmish ensued, but the Volunteers, although suffering
severe losses, held their own, and the cavalry went off along the Oxted
Road. This being reported to the British General, special orders were at
once sent to Col. Trotter, the commander of this section of the outpost
line.

From the reports of the inhabitants and of scouts sent out in plain
clothes, it was believed that the French intended massing near
Tandridge, and that they would therefore wait for supports before
attempting to break through our outpost line, which still remained
intact from the high ground east of Leatherhead to the hills north of
Sevenoaks. During the night Oxted and Godstone were occupied by the
enemy, and early in the morning their advance guard, consisting of four
battalions of infantry, a squadron of cavalry, a battalion of Zouaves,
and a section of field artillery, proceeded north in two columns, one
along the Roman road leading past Rook's Nest, and the other past
Flinthall Farm.

At the latter place the sentries of the 17th Middlesex fell back upon
their piquets, and both columns of the enemy came into action
simultaneously. The French infantry on the high road soon succeeded in
driving back the Volunteer piquet upon the supports, under Lieut.
Michaelis, stationed at the junction of the Roman road with that leading
to Godstone Quarry. A strong barricade with two deep trenches in front
had here been constructed, and as soon as the survivors of the piquet
got under cover, two of the defenders' machine guns opened fire from
behind the barricade, assisted at the same moment by a battery on
Gravelly Hill.

The French artillery had gone on towards Flinthall Farm, but in passing
the north edge of Rook's Nest Park their horses were shot by some
Inniskilling Fusiliers lying in ambush, and by these two reverses,
combined with the deadly fire from the two machine guns at the farm, the
column was very quickly thrown into confusion. It was then decided to
make a counter attack, and the available companies at this section of
the outpost line, under Col. Brown and Col. Roche, succeeded, after
nearly two hours' hard fighting, in retaking Godstone and Oxted,
compelling the few survivors of the enemy's advance guard to fall back
to Blindley Heath.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF CATERHAM: PLAN OF THE BRITISH POSITIONS.]

In the meantime our troops occupying the line from Halstead to Chatham
and Maidstone went down into battle, attacking the French right wing at
the same time as the Indians were attacking their left, while the
Volunteers from the Surrey Hills engaged the main body. The day was
blazing hot, the roads dusty, and there was scarce a breath of wind. So
hot, indeed, was it, that many on both sides fell from hunger, thirst,
and sheer starvation. Yet, although the force of the invaders was nearly
twice the numerical strength of the defenders, the latter fought on with
undaunted courage, striking their swift, decisive blows for England and
their Queen.

The enemy, now driven into a triangle, fought with demoniacal strength,
and that frenzied courage begotten of despair. On the hills around
Sevenoaks and across to the valley at Otford, the slaughter of the
French was fearful. Britons fighting for their homes and their country
were determined that Britannia should still be Ruler of the World.

From Wimlet Hill the enemy were by noon totally cut up and routed by the
12th Middlesex (Civil Service), under Lord Bury; the 25th (Bank), under
Capt. W. J. Coe, V.D.; the 13th (Queen's), under Col. J. W. Comerford;
the 21st Middlesex, under Col. H. B. Deane, V.D.; and the 22nd, under
Col. W. J. Alt, V.D. Over at Oxted, however, they rallied, and some
brilliant charges by Cossacks, the slaughter of a portion of our advance
guard, and the capture of one of our Volunteer batteries on Botley Hill,
checked our advance.

The French, finding their right flank being so terribly cut up, had
suddenly altered their tactics, and were now concentrating their forces
upon the Volunteer position at Caterham in an endeavour to break through
our defensive line.

But the hills about that position held by the North London, West London,
South London, Surrey, and Cheshire Brigades were well defended, and the
General had his finger upon the pulse of his command. Most of the
positions had been excellently chosen. Strong batteries were established
at Gravelly Hill by the 9th Lancashire Volunteer Artillery, under Col.
F. Ainsworth, V.D.; at Harestone Farm by the 1st Cinque Ports, under
Col. P. S. Court, V.D.; at White Hill by the 1st Northumberland and the
1st Norfolk, under Col. P. Watts and Col. T. Wilson, V.D.; at Botley
Hill by the 6th Lancashire, under Col. H. J. Robinson, V.D.; at
Tandridge Hill by the 3rd Lancashire, under Col. R. W. Thom, V.D.; at
Chaldon by the 1st Newcastle, under Col. W. M. Angus, V.D., who had come
south after the victory at the Tyneside; at Warlingham village by the
1st Cheshire, commanded by Col. H. T. Brown, V.D.; at Warlingham Court
by the 2nd Durham, under Col. J. B. Eminson, V.D.; on the Sanderstead
road, near King's Wood, by the 2nd Cinque Ports, under Col. W. Taylor,
V.D.; and on the railway near Woldingham the 1st Sussex had stationed
their armoured train with 40-pounder breech-loading Armstrongs, which
they fired very effectively from the permanent way.

Through Limpsfield, Oxted, Godstone, Bletchingley, and Nutsfield,
towards Reigate, Frenchmen and Britons fought almost hand to hand. The
defenders suffered severely, owing to the repeated charges of the French
Dragoons along the highway between Oxted and Godstone, nevertheless the
batteries of the 6th Lancashire on Tandridge Hill, which commanded a
wide area of country occupied by the enemy, wrought frightful execution
in their ranks. In this they were assisted by the 17th Middlesex, under
Col. W. J. Brown, V.D., who with four Maxims at one period of the fight
surprised and practically annihilated a whole battalion of French
infantry. But into this attack on Caterham the enemy put his whole
strength, and from noon until four o'clock the fighting along the valley
was a fierce combat to the death.

With every bit of cover bristling with magazine rifles, and every
available artillery position shedding forth a storm of bullets and
shell, the loss of life was awful. Invaders and defenders fell in
hundreds, and with burning brow and dry parched throat expired in agony.
The London Irish, under Col. J. Ward, V.D.; the Post Office Corps, under
Col. J. Du Plat Taylor, V.D., and Col. S. R. Thompson, V.D.; the Inns of
Court, under Col. C. H. Russell, V.D.; and the Cyclists, led by Major T.
De B. Holmes, performed many gallant deeds, and served their country
well. The long, dusty highways were quickly covered with the bodies of
the unfortunate victims, who lay with blanched, bloodless faces and
sightless eyes turned upward to the burning sun. On over them rode madly
French cavalry and Cossacks, cutting their way into the British
infantry, never to return.

Just, however, as they prepared for another terrific onslaught, the guns
of the 1st Cheshire battery at Warlingham village thundered, and with
smart section volleys added by detachments of the London Scottish, under
Major W. Brodie, V.D., and the Artists, under Capt. W. L. Duffield and
Lieut. Pott, the road was in a few minutes strewn with horses and men
dead and dying.

Still onward there rushed along the valley great masses of French
infantry, but the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Volunteer Battalions of the Royal
Fusiliers, under Col. G. C. Clark, V.D., Col. A. L. Keller, and Col. L.
Whewell respectively; the 2nd V. B. Middlesex Regiment, under Col. G.
Brodie Clark, V.D.; the 3rd Middlesex, under Col. R Hennell, D.S.O.,
late of the Indian Army; and the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th West Surrey,
under Col. J. Freeland, V.D., Col. G. Drewitt, V.D., Col. S. B.
Bevington, V.D., and Col. F. W. Haddan, V.D., engaged them, and by dint
of desperate effort, losing heavily all the time, they defeated them,
drove them back, and slaughtered them in a manner that to a
non-combatant was horrible and appalling. Time after time, the enemy,
still being harassed by the British Regulars on their right, charged up
the valley, in order to take the battery at Harestone Farm; but on each
occasion few of those who dashed forward survived. The dusty roads, the
grassy <DW72>s, and the ploughed lands were covered with corpses, and
blood draining into the springs and rivulets tinged their crystal
waters.

As afternoon passed and the battle continued, it was by no means certain
that success in this fierce final struggle would lie with us. Having
regard to the enormous body of invaders now concentrated on the Surrey
border, and striving by every device to force a passage through our
lines, our forces, spread over such a wide area and outflanking them,
were necessarily weak. It was therefore only by the excellent tactics
displayed by our officers, and the magnificent courage of the men
themselves, that we had been enabled to hold back these overwhelming
masses, which had already desolated Sussex with fire and sword.

Our Regulars operating along the old Roman highway through Blindley
Heath--where the invaders were making a desperate stand--and over to
Lingfield, succeeded, after very hard fighting, in clearing the enemy
off the railway embankment from Crowhurst along to South Park Farm, and
following them up, annihilated them.

Gradually, just at sundown, a strong division of the enemy were
outflanked at Godstone, and, refusing to lay down their arms, were
simply swept out of existence, scarcely a single man escaping. Thus
forced back from, perhaps, the most vulnerable point in our defences,
the main body of the enemy were then driven away upon Redhill, still
fighting fiercely. Over Redstone Hill, through Mead Vale, and across
Reigate Park to the Heath, the enemy were shot down in hundreds by our
Regulars; while our Volunteers, whose courage never deserted them,
engaged the French in hand-to-hand encounters through the streets of
Redhill and Reigate, as far as Underhill Park.

In Hartswood a company of the 4th East Surrey Rifles, under Major S. B.
Wheaton, V.D., were lying in ambush, when suddenly among the trees they
caught glimpses of red, baggy trousers, and scarlet, black-tasselled
fezes, and a few seconds later they found that a large force of Zouaves
were working through the wood. A few moments elapsed, and the combat
commenced. The Algerians fought like demons, and with bullet and bayonet
inflicted terrible punishment upon us; but as they emerged into the road
preparatory to firing a volley into the thickets, they were surprised by
a company of the 2nd Volunteer Battalion of the East Surrey Regiment,
under Capt. Pott, who killed and wounded half their number, and took the
remainder prisoners.

Gradually our Volunteer brigades occupying the long range of hills
united with our Regulars still on the enemy's right from Reigate to
Crawley, and closed down upon the foe, slowly narrowing the sphere of
their operations, and by degrees forcing them back due westward.
Russians and French, who had attacked Dorking, had by this time been
defeated with heavy loss, and by dusk the main body had been thrown back
to Newdigate, where in Reffold's Copse one or two very sanguinary
encounters occurred. These, however, were not always in our favour, for
the Civil Service Volunteers here sustained very heavy losses. On the
railway embankment, and on the road running along the crest of the hill
to Dorking, the French made a stand, and there wrought frightful
execution among our men with their machine guns. Around Beare Green,
Trout's Farm, and behind the "White Hart" at Holmwood, the enemy rapidly
brought their guns into play, and occupied such strong strategic
positions that as night drew on it became evident that they intended to
remain there until the morrow.

The defenders had but little cover, and consequently felt the withering
fire of the French very severely. The latter had entrenched themselves,
and now in the darkness it was difficult for our men to discern their
exact position. Indeed, the situation of our forces became very serious
and unsafe as night proceeded; but at length, about ten o'clock, a
strong force of British Regulars, including the Sikhs and a detachment
of Australians, swept along the road from Dorking, and came suddenly
upon the French patrols. These were slaughtered with little resistance,
and almost before the enemy were aware of it, the whole position was
completely surrounded.

Our men then used their field search-lights with very great advantage;
for, as the enemy were driven out into the open, they were blinded by
the glare, and fell an easy prey to British rifles; while the
Frenchmen's own machine guns were turned upon them with frightful
effect, their battalions being literally mowed down by the awful hail of
bullets.




CHAPTER XL.

"FOR ENGLAND!"


Through the whole night the battle still raged furiously. The enemy
fought on with reckless, unparalleled daring. Chasseurs and Zouaves,
Cuirassiers, Dragoons, and infantry from the Loire and the Rhone
struggled desperately, contesting every step, and confident of ultimate
victory.

But the enemy had at last, by the splendid tactics of the defenders,
been forced into a gradually contracting square, bounded by Dorking and
Guildford in the north, and Horsham and Billinghurst in the south, and
soon after midnight, with a concentric movement from each of the four
corners, British Regulars and Volunteers advanced steadily upon the foe,
surrounding and slaughtering them.

The horrors of that night were frightful; the loss of life on every hand
enormous. Britannia had husbanded her full strength until this critical
moment; for now, when the fate of her Empire hung upon a single thread,
she sent forth her valiant sons, who fell upon those who had desecrated
and destroyed their homes, and wreaked a terrible vengeance.

Through the dark, sultry hours this awful destruction of life continued
with unabated fury, and many a Briton closed with his foe in death
embrace, or fell forward mortally wounded. Of British heroes there were
many that night, for true pluck showed itself everywhere, and Englishmen
performed many deeds worthy their traditions as the most courageous
and undaunted among nations.

[Illustration: BRITISH BLUEJACKETS MARCHING THROUGH THE STRAND AFTER THE
VICTORY.]

Although the French Commander-in-chief had been killed, yet the enemy
still fought on tenaciously, holding their ground on Leith Hill and
through Pasture Wood to Wotton and Abinger, until at length, when the
saffron streak in the sky heralded another blazing day, the straggling,
exhausted remnant of the once-powerful legions of France and Russia,
perspiring, dust-covered, and bloodstained, finding they stood alone,
and that the whole of Sussex and Surrey had been swept and their
comrades slaughtered, laid down their arms and eventually surrendered.

After these three breathless days of butchery and bloodshed England was
at last victorious!

In this final struggle for Britain's freedom the invader had been
crushed and his power broken; for, thanks to our gallant citizen
soldiers, the enemy that had for weeks overrun our smiling land like
packs of hungry wolves, wantonly burning our homes and massacring the
innocent and unprotected, had at length met with their well-merited
deserts, and now lay spread over the miles of pastures, cornfields, and
forests, stark, cold, and dead.

Britain had at last vanquished the two powerful nations that had sought
by ingenious conspiracy to accomplish her downfall.

Thousands of her brave sons had, alas! fallen while fighting under the
British flag. Many of the principal streets of her gigantic capital were
only parallel lines of gaunt, blackened ruins, and many of her finest
cities lay wrecked, shattered, and desolate; yet this terrible ordeal
had happily not weakened her power one iota, nor had she been ousted
from her proud position as chief among the mighty Empires of the world.

Three days after the great and decisive battle of Caterham, the British
troops, with their compatriots from the Cape, Australia, Canada, and
India, entered London triumphantly, bringing with them some thousands of
French and Russian prisoners. In the streets, as, ragged and dusty,
Britain's defenders passed through on their way to a great Open-Air
Thanksgiving Service in Hyde Park, there were scenes of the wildest
enthusiasm. With heartfelt gratitude, the people, scrambling over the
debris heaped each side of the streets, cheered themselves hoarse; the
men grasping the hands of Volunteers and veterans, and the women,
weeping for joy, raising the soldiers' hands to their lips. The glad
tidings of victory caused rejoicings everywhere. England, feeling
herself free, breathed again. In every church and chapel through the
United Kingdom special Services of Thanksgiving for deliverance from the
invaders' thrall were held, while in every town popular fetes were
organised, and delighted Britons gaily celebrated their magnificent and
overwhelming triumph.

In this disastrous struggle between nations France had suffered
frightfully. Paris, bombarded and burning, capitulated on the day
following the battle of Caterham, and the legions of the Kaiser marched
up the Boulevards with their brilliant cavalry uniforms flashing in the
sun. Over the Hotel de Ville, the Government buildings on the Quai
d'Orsay, and the Ministries of War and Marine, the German flag was
hoisted, and waved lazily in the autumn breeze, while the Emperor
William himself had an interview with the French President at the
Elysee.

That evening all France knew that Paris had fallen. In a few days
England was already shipping back to Dieppe and Riga her prisoners of
war, and negotiations for peace had commenced. As security against any
further attempts on England, Italian troops were occupying the whole of
Southern France from Grenoble to Bordeaux; and the Germans, in addition
to occupying Paris, had established their headquarters in Moghilev, and
driven back the Army of the Tsar far beyond the Dnieper.

From both France and Russia, Germany demanded huge indemnities, as well
as a large tract of territory in Poland, and the whole of the vast
Champagne country from Givet, on the Belgian frontier, down to the
Saone.

Ten days later France was forced to accept the preliminaries of a treaty
which we proposed. This included the cession to us of Algiers, with its
docks and harbour, so that we might establish another naval station in
the Mediterranean, and the payment of an indemnity of L250,000,000. Our
demands upon Russia at the same time were that she should withdraw all
her troops from Bokhara, and should cede to us the whole of that portion
of the Trans-Caspian territory lying between the mouths of the Oxus and
Kizil Arvat, thence along the Persian frontier to Zulfikai, along the
Afghan frontier to Karki, and from there up the bank of the Oxus to the
Aral Sea. This vast area of land included the cities of Khiva and Merv,
the many towns around Kara Khum, the country of the Kara Turkomans, the
Tekeh and the Yomuts, and the annexation of it by Britain would
effectually prevent the Russians ever advancing upon India.

Upon these huge demands, in addition to the smaller ones by Italy and
Austria, a Peace Conference was opened at Brussels without delay, and at
length France and her Muscovite ally, both vanquished and ruined, were
compelled to accept the proposals of Britain and Germany.

Hence, on November 16th, 1897, the Treaty of Peace was signed, and eight
days later was ratified. Then the huge forces of the Kaiser gradually
withdrew into Germany, and the soldiers of King Humbert recrossed the
Alps, while we shipped back the remainder of our prisoners, reopened our
trade routes, and commenced rebuilding our shattered cities.




CHAPTER XLI.

DAWN.


A raw, cold December morning in London. With the exception of a
statuesque sentry on the Horse Guards' Parade, the wide open space was
deserted. It had not long been light, and a heavy yellow mist still hung
over the grass in St. James's Park.

A bell clanged mournfully. Big Ben chimed the hour, and then boomed
forth eight o'clock. An icy wind swept across the gravelled square. The
bare, black branches of the stunted trees creaked and groaned, and the
lonely sentry standing at ease before his box rubbed his hands and
shivered.

Suddenly a side door opened, and there emerged a small procession.
Slowly there walked in front a clergyman bare-headed, reciting with
solemn intonation the Burial Service. Behind him, with unsteady step and
bent shoulders, a trembling man with blanched, haggard face, and a wild
look of terror in his dark, deep-sunken eyes. He wore a shabby
morning-coat tightly buttoned, and his hands in bracelets of steel were
behind his back.

Glancing furtively around at the grey dismal landscape, he shuddered.
Beside and behind him soldiers tramped on in silence.

The officer's sword grated along the gravel.

Suddenly a word of command caused them to halt against a wall, and a
sergeant, stepping forward, took a handkerchief and tied it over the
eyes of the quivering culprit, who now stood with his back against the
wall. Another word from the officer, and the party receded some
distance, leaving the man alone. The monotonous nasal utterances of the
chaplain still sounded as four privates advanced, and, halting, stood in
single rank before the prisoner.

[Illustration: EXECUTION OF VON BEILSTEIN ON THE HORSE GUARDS' PARADE.]

They raised their rifles. There was a momentary pause. In the distance a
dog howled dismally.

A sharp word of command broke the quiet.

Then, a second later, as four rifles rang out simultaneously, the
condemned man tottered forward and fell heavily on the gravel, shot
through the heart.

It was the spy and murderer, Karl von Beilstein!

He had been brought from Glasgow to London in order that certain
information might be elicited from him, and after his actions had been
thoroughly investigated by a military court, he had been sentenced to
death. The whole of his past was revealed by his valet Grevel, and it
was proved that, in addition to bringing the great disaster upon
England, he had also betrayed the country whose roubles purchased his
cunningly-obtained secrets.

Geoffrey Engleheart, although gallantly assisting in the fight outside
Leatherhead, and subsequently showing conspicuous bravery during the
Battle of Caterham, fortunately escaped with nothing more severe than a
bullet wound in the arm. During the searching private inquiry held at
the Foreign Office after peace was restored, he explained the whole of
the circumstances, and was severely reprimanded for his indiscretion;
but as no suspicion of von Beilstein's real motive had been aroused
prior to the Declaration of War, and as it was proved that Geoffrey was
entirely innocent of any complicity in the affair, he was, at the urgent
request of Lord Stanbury, allowed to resume his duties. Shortly
afterwards he was married to Violet Vayne, and Sir Joseph, having
recovered those of his ships that had been seized by the Russian
Government, was thereby enabled to give his daughter a handsome dowry.

The young French clerk who had been engaged at the Admiralty, and who
had committed murder for gold, escaped to Spain, and, after being
hunted by English and Spanish detectives for many weeks, he became
apparently overwhelmed by remorse. Not daring to show himself by day,
nor to claim the money that had been promised him, he had tramped on
through the snow from village to village in the unfrequented valleys of
Lerida, while his description was being circulated throughout the
Continent. Cold, weary, and hungry, he one night entered the Posada de
las Pijorras at the little town of Oliana, at the foot of the Sierra del
Cadi. Calling for wine, he took up a dirty crumpled copy of the Madrid
_Globo_, three days old. A paragraph, headed "The Missing Spy," caught
his eyes, and, reading eagerly, he found to his dismay that the police
were aware that he had been in Huesca a week before, and were now using
bloodhounds to track him!

The paper fell from his nerveless grasp. The wine at his elbow he
swallowed at one gulp, and, tossing down his last real upon the table,
he rose and stumbled away blindly into the darkness.

When the wintry dawn spread in that silent, distant valley, it showed a
corpse lying in the snow with face upturned. In the white wrinkled brow
was a small dark-blue hole from which blood had oozed over the pallid
cheek, leaving an ugly stain. The staring eyes were wide open, with a
look of unutterable horror in them, and beside the thin clenched hand
lay a revolver, one chamber of which had been discharged!

       *       *       *       *       *

The dreary gloom of winter passed, and there dawned a new era of
prosperity for England.

Dark days were succeeded by a period of happiness and rejoicing, and
Britannia, grasping her trident again, seated herself on her shield
beside the sea, Ruler of the Waves, Queen of Nations, and Empress of the
World.

THE END.

MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.




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ZORAIDA.
_A ROMANCE OF THE HAREM AND THE DESERT._

BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX, F.R.G.S.,
AUTHOR OF "THE GREAT WAR IN 1897."
_PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED BY H. PIFFARD._

       *       *       *       *       *

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THE GREAT WAR IN ENGLAND IN 1897.

BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX, F.R.G.S.

_With Numerous Illustrations by T. S. Crowther and Captain C. Field, and
Nine Military Maps._

       *       *       *       *       *

The Opinions of some Great Authorities.

    THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE, writing to the Author, says: "Such books
    cannot fail to have a good effect in inducing people to think
    more seriously of the necessity which lies upon the whole
    country to always be prepared, and to be more openhanded in
    giving money for the means of defence."

    FIELD MARSHAL LORD WOLSELEY says: "A pleasure to peruse it."

    THE MARQUIS OF SALISBURY says: "It is very realistic and
    interesting."

    LORD GEORGE HAMILTON says: "It is very striking and original."

    SIR C. DILKE says: "I think it is most valuable as tending to
    make people realise how little we are prepared for war."

       *       *       *       *       *

Opinions of the London Press.

    _The Times_ says: "Everything that can spice a sensational
    volume."

    _The Morning Post_ says: "Few works can compare in stirring
    incidents or careful elaboration of detail.... A great deal of
    what he forecasts would be very likely to occur if once England
    were in the clutches of a strong enemy, and in the matter of
    description wherein the tumult and carnage is brought vividly
    before the reader.... A clever and exciting book."

    _The Standard_ says: "Full of excitement and realism."

    _The Globe_ says: "It is vigorous and rousing.... Will do a
    public service."

    _The Sun_ says: "Mr. Le Queux' narrative is well and spiritedly
    written."

    _The Evening News_ says: "Mr. Le Queux has succeeded in a very
    difficult task. He has brought home to us the dangers we expose
    ourselves if we neglect to maintain our Army and Navy in an
    adequate state of efficiency."

    _The Daily Graphic_ says: "Various essays have been made to
    forecast the next great European war, but Mr. William Le Queux'
    volume is certainly the most comprehensive and thrilling of
    anything yet attempted. Regarded simply as a work of fiction, it
    is exciting enough to satisfy the most enthusiastic lover of
    'blood and thunder' literature. In its more serious aspect--and
    it is this aspect, of course, which the author desires for
    it--this book certainly evidences serious thought.... It is all
    very graphic and very thrilling, especially the bombardment of
    London by the Russians, and the author has not scrupled to avail
    himself of the latest, even of the future, resources of
    science."

    _Naval and Military Record_ says: "Mr. Le Queux has special
    qualifications for the task. He knows a great deal of our Army
    and Navy, and he is familiar with continental systems and
    sentiment. The narrative is lively and spirited, and the author
    writes with an air of conviction which is calculated to carry
    the reader on from beginning to end."

    _Admiralty and Horse Guards Gazette_ says: "Mr. Le Queux is a
    vivid writer, and his work gives evidence of care and
    thoroughness. The chapter dealing with the march of the French
    on London is particularly fine. The author's production is the
    best of the kind we have come across for some time. It should
    emphasise our old contention as to the unreadiness for active
    service on a prolonged campaign of the sea and land forces of
    the Empire."

    _Army and Navy Gazette_ says: "The story is a capital one, full
    of interest and incident, well sustained and well told."

    _The Idler_ says: "Mr. Le Queux writes brilliantly, sensibly,
    and with a thorough mastery of his subject."

    _The Sketch_ says: "No novel of the day comes up to Mr. Le
    Queux' 'Great War in England in 1897' for excitement. From the
    preface to the last paragraph he has kept up his prophetic
    heroics in magnificent style, and if his patriotism does not
    scatter our indifference to our insular defences, why, then,
    nothing will. It is really a terrifying book. Mr. Le Queux has
    power to shake one's nerves as he foretells fights and
    slaughters in peaceful suburbs."

    _The World_ says: "It serves to bring home in a very realistic
    fashion the horrors of a war brought into our very midst."

    _To-Day_ says: "A mastery of military and naval details is
    displayed with conception and execution."

    _The Review of Reviews_ says: "The story is useful as a warning,
    and is worked out with much knowledge."

    _The Gentlewoman_ says: "Once having started, I couldn't lay it
    down till I had made an end thereto."

    _The Literary World_ says: "It is undoubtedly one of the books
    of the year. It is so ingenious and so exciting, it is at once
    extremely technical and extremely readable. The book is a great
    book, and one that no Englishman could read without a thrill."

    _The Publishers' Circular_ says: "Mr. Le Queux shows us what
    will happen if we do not better prepare ourselves."

       *       *       *       *       *

Read what the Country Press say.

    _Manchester Evening News_ says: "Lovers of exciting literature
    will be satisfied to the full with the graphic story."

    _Liverpool Daily Mercury_ says: "Extremely interesting, and well
    worth reading."

    _Liverpool Daily Chronicle_ says:--"The story is full of
    stirring episode."

    _Birmingham Daily Post_ says: "The scenes are marked with real
    and affecting power."

    _Sheffield Daily Telegraph_ says: "We offer criticism in no
    carping spirit, but as part of our grateful acknowledgment for a
    brilliant, patriotic, and useful work."

    _Yorkshire Post_ says: "Well calculated to make the nervous
    tremble at every rumour of foreign complications."

    _The Scotsman_ says: "Strategical and other problems are
    elaborately worked out.... Amusing, entertaining, and exciting."

    _The North British Mail_ says: "It is a very powerful work."

    _Glasgow Herald_ says: "One of the best books we have read on a
    subject on which it is only too easy to be tiresome."

    _Glasgow Evening News_ says: "Whether as a romance or as a
    prophecy it is highly interesting."

    _The Western Morning News_ says: "Very exciting reading. Of real
    literary merit."

    _Bradford Daily Argus_ says: "Full of interesting and exciting
    reading."

       *       *       *       *       *

Read what the Foreign and Colonial Press say.

    _Sydney Daily Telegraph_ says: "The writer's capability to speak
    regarding his subject is displayed on every page of the book. It
    is splendidly written."

    _The Belgian News_ says: "The book is a remarkable and a
    phenomenal success."

    The _Palladium_ (Newhaven, Conn.) says: "One of the most
    successful books of the season."

    "Il Capitano Nemo," the well-known Italian naval writer, in
    _L'Opinione_ of Rome, says that the problems put forward by Mr.
    Le Queux should secure the serious consideration of European
    Governments. "It is unquestionably a most important book," he
    says; "it is of interest to everyone, and the minuteness of its
    detail is astonishing. I can recommend it to the Italian public
    as a very startling yet highly instructive book."

    _The Italia Marinara_ says: "It is not a mere fantastic romance;
    it is a book to study seriously, and we recommend it to the Army
    and Navy of Italy, for it contains many valuable hints."

    _Il Secolo_ says: "A very remarkable and important work. There
    is genius in every line. The descriptions are most realistic,
    and it is of interest to everybody."

    _The China Telegraph_ says it is "of really intense and
    thrilling interest."




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THE CAPTAIN OF THE MARY ROSE.
_A TALE OF TO-MORROW._

BY W. LAIRD CLOWES,
U.S. NAVAL INSTITUTE.

With 60 Illustrations by the Chevalier de Martino and Fred. T. Jane.

       *       *       *       *       *

This work has been truly described by the public press as an intensely
realistic and stirring romance of the near future. It describes the
wonderful adventures of an armour-clad cruiser, built on the Tyne, which
takes part in a great Naval War that suddenly breaks out between France
and Great Britain. The dashing way in which the vessel is handled, her
narrow escapes, the boldness of her successful attacks upon the enemy,
and the heroic conduct of her commander and crew, form altogether a
narrative of most absorbing interest, and full of exciting scenes and
situations.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FOLLOWING ARE A FEW PRESS OPINIONS.

    "Deserves something more than a mere passing notice."--_The
    Times._

    "Full of exciting situations.... Has manifold attractions for
    all sorts of readers."--_Army and Navy Gazette._

    "The most notable book of the season."--_The Standard._

    "A clever book. Mr. Clowes is pre-eminent for literary touch and
    practical knowledge of naval affairs."--_Daily Chronicle._

    "Mr. W. Laird Clowes' exciting story."--_Daily Telegraph._

    "We read 'The Captain of the Mary Rose' at a sitting."--_The
    Pall Mall Gazette._

    "Written with no little spirit and imagination.... A stirring
    romance of the future."--_Manchester Guardian._

    "Is of a realistic and exciting character.... Designed to show
    what the naval warfare of the future may be."--_Glasgow Herald._

    "One of the most interesting volumes of the year."--_Liverpool
    Journal of Commerce._

    "It is well told and magnificently illustrated."--_United
    Service Magazine._

    "Full of absorbing interest."--_Engineers Gazette._

    "Is intensely realistic, so much so that after commencing the
    story every one will be anxious to read to the end."--_Dundee
    Advertiser._

    "The book is splendidly illustrated."--_Northern Whig._




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THE ANGEL OF THE REVOLUTION.
A TALE OF THE COMING TERROR.

BY GEORGE GRIFFITH.

       *       *       *       *       *

In this Romance of Love, War, and Revolution, the action takes place ten
years hence, and turns upon the solution of the problem of aerial
navigation, which enables a vast Secret Society to decide the issue of
the coming world-war, for which the great nations of the earth are now
preparing. Battles such as have hitherto only been vaguely dreamed of
are fought on land and sea and in the air. Aerial navies engage armies
and fleets and fortresses, and fight with each other in an unsparing
warfare, which has for its prize the empire of the world. Unlike all
other essays in prophetic fiction, it deals with the events of
to-morrow, and with characters familiar in the eyes of living men. It
marks an entirely new departure in fiction, and opens up possibilities
which may become stupendous and appalling realities before the present
generation of men has passed away.

       *       *       *       *       *

_A FEW PRESS OPINIONS._

    "Since the days of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, we know
    of no writer who 'takes the cake' like Mr. George
    Griffith."--_Daily Chronicle._

    "A really exciting and sensational romance."--_Literary World._

    "As a work of imagination it takes high rank."--_Belfast News
    Letter._

    "Full of absorbing interest."--_Barrow Herald._

    "This powerful story."--_Liverpool Mercury._

    "An entirely new departure in fiction."--_Reynolds' Newspaper._

    "Of exceptional brilliancy and power."--_Western Figaro._

    "This remarkable story."--_Weekly Times and Echo._

    "There is a fascination about his book that few will be able to
    resist."--_Birmingham Gazette._

    "This exciting romance."--_Licensing World._

    "A work of strong imaginative power."--_Dundee Courier._

    "We must congratulate the author upon the vividness and reality
    with which he draws his unprecedented pictures."--_Bristol
    Mercury._

    "Is quite enthralling."--_Glasgow Herald._

    "A striking and fascinating novel."--_Hampshire Telegraph._




Demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth, price 6s.
_With Frontispiece by Edwin S. Hope._

OLGA ROMANOFF;
Or, The Syren of the Skies.

BY GEORGE GRIFFITH,
AUTHOR OF "THE ANGEL OF THE REVOLUTION," "THE OUTLAWS OF THE AIR."

       *       *       *       *       *

Dedicated to Mr. HIRAM S. MAXIM.

       *       *       *       *       *

A sequel to the author's striking and successful romance. _The Angel of
the Revolution_, describing the efforts of a beautiful daughter of the
House of Romanoff to restore the throne of her ancestors destroyed in
the World-War of 1904, and presenting to the reader the spectacle of a
world transformed into a wonderland of art and science, yet trembling on
the brink of a catastrophe, in comparison with which even the tremendous
climax of _The Angel_ sinks almost into insignificance.

       *       *       *       *       *

SOME PRESS OPINIONS.

    "Mr. George Griffith has made himself a high reputation as an
    imaginative novelist by his brilliant romances, _The Angel of
    the Revolution_ and _The Syren of the Skies_."--_Sketch._

    "This is quite as imaginative, as clever, and as enthralling a
    book as its predecessor."--_Glasgow Herald._

    "The book is a wild one, but its wildness and imaginative
    boldness make it uncommonly interesting."--_Scotsman._

    "The flights of fancy and imagination displayed by the author
    show a most marvellous power and conception."--_Aberdeen Free
    Press._

    "An entrancing book."--_Birmingham Post._

    "Full of originality in its rendition.... A marvel of
    imaginative strength and picturesque pen painting."--_European
    Mail._

    "On the whole Mr. Griffith has published a work which to our
    mind is the most suggestive of its kind that has been published
    for many years."--_Admiralty and Horse Guards Gazette._

    "The work hardly lends itself to critical remark other than the
    expression of one's appreciation of an imaginative and glowing
    style likely to add to the pleasure of those who enjoy purely
    speculative fiction. These pictures have a weird splendour in
    keeping with the theme, but it is natural to desire a better
    future for the human race than the one here
    prophesied."--_Morning Post._

    "His theme is a more tremendous one, and the incidents of his
    story tenfold more terrible than even those awful battles in the
    former volume. There is the same swift succession of awful
    calamities, the same sustained interest from title page to
    cover, and the same thread of human love running through the
    narrative which lent its chief charm to the 'Angel of the
    Revolution.'"--_Weekly Times and Echo._

    "By lovers of sensational writing, in which the scientific
    discoveries of the future are forecast, and intrigue and warfare
    related in realistic manner under conditions which now exist but
    in prophetic imagination, it will be warmly welcomed.... The
    book must be read to be appreciated. Description is
    impossible."--_Bradford Daily Argus._

       *       *       *       *       *


Transcriber's Notes

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Hyphens removed: muzzle[-]loaders (p. 127), look[-]out (p. 164),
short[-]sightedness (p. 176), blood[-]stained (p. 325).

p. 67: "Termius" changed to "Terminus" (over the debris in
Terminus Road).

p. 72: "Halsted" changed to "Halstead" (Surrey to Halstead in Kent).

p. 92: "crusier" changed to "cruiser" (the unarmoured cruiser _Faucon_).

p. 119: "thousand" changed to "thousands" (thousands fleeing into the
country).

p. 159: "fusilade" changed to "fusillade" (commenced a terrific
fusillade).

p. 160: "momemt" changed to "moment" (Our situation at that moment).

p. 240: "Hundred" changed to "Hundreds" (Hundreds of tons).

p. 257: "evacute" changed to "evacuate" (to evacuate Edinburgh).

p. 316: "detatched" changed to "detached" (came upon a detached post).





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great War in England in 1897, by
William Le Queux

*** 