The Children's Story of the War Volume 4 (of 10) / The Story of the Year 1915

Captain Loxley giving his Last Order as the "Formidable" went down.

(From the picture by C. M. Padday. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)

As the Formidable was listing badly to starboard, it was not possible to launch boats on the port side. Owing to the rough sea a cutter was stove in; but the men stuffed their jumpers into the hole, and bailed out the water with their boots. A barge fell perpendicularly from the davits, and threw the crew into the sea. Meanwhile, the stokers had drawn all the fires and had shut off steam, so that when the ship went down there was no boiler explosion. By this time it was clear that all could not be saved. Many of the crew knew that their last hour had come. One of the survivors thus described the scene on the decks as the Formidable sank into the waves:—

Let me tell you how a bluejacket nobly gave his life for another as the ship was sinking. You shall hear the story in the words of the man who owed his life to his comrade's splendid generosity. "When everything had been done to save the Formidable, the boats came alongside and took off as many as possible. There were five boats, and two were swamped. All the boats had left the ship when the crew of one cried, 'Room for one more.' Two of us tossed for it, and the other chap won; but he said, 'You have got parents; I haven't. Go on—jump for it.' I did so. I had to swim for it, but I was saved."

The men in the leaking cutter, after being tossed and buffeted by the sea, drenched to the skin by the waves, and numbed by the bitter wind, were picked up by the Brixham fishing smack Providence about fifteen miles from Berry Head. The Providence, which was owned and skippered by William Pillar, was running before the gale to Brixham for shelter, but off the Start found herself obliged to heave to owing to the force of the wind. Just then one of the crew noticed a cutter tossing under the lee. An oar had been hoisted, and from it a sailor's scarf was flying as a signal of distress.

The cutter was drifting towards the smack, and every now and then was lost to sight amidst the heaving waves. Four times did the gallant smacksmen try to get a rope to the boat, while the skipper at the helm manoeuvred his little vessel with great skill. At last a small warp was thrown from the smack, and was caught by the men on board the cutter. By means of the capstan the rope was hauled in, and the cutter was brought up on the lee. The rescued sailors jumped on board; but even in the act of doing so they were in great peril, for the seas at times were rising thirty feet above the deck of the smack. The work of rescue occupied half an hour. Seventy-one men, including two officers, were thus saved.

All were on board the smack by one o'clock, and a course was shaped for Brixham. Before long the Providence fell in with a tug, which took her in tow and brought her safely to harbour. The residents of Brixham gave blankets, coats, and boots to the survivors, and provided them with comfortable quarters. Many of the men were utterly exhausted. For hours they had been battling with the heavy winter seas, which had almost continuously washed over them, and they had hoped against hope until the brown sails of the Providence had providentially come in sight.

One of the Formidable's boats came unaided to the shore. After tossing about for twenty-two hours in a raging sea, it drifted with the tide into Lyme Regis, with forty men on board. Nine of her crew had died of exposure, and had been buried at sea. A light cruiser also picked up some of the Formidable's men; but when the final reckoning was made, only 201 had been saved out of a ship's company of well-nigh 800 souls.

The splendid seamanship of Skipper Pillar, and the great courage and devotion of his crew, greatly impressed the country. On 8th February he and his men attended at Buckingham Palace, where the King pinned the silver medal for gallantry on their breasts, and handed them the money rewards which had been bestowed upon them by the Admiralty. The King addressed them in the following words:—

Amongst the crew of the Providence was Daniel Taylor, an apprentice. In reply to the King, he said that he had been at sea for just over twelve months, and that he was seventeen years of age. The King observed, "You are small for your age, but you have taken part in a very gallant deed, and I congratulate you." Some time later, Skipper Pillar was given a commission in the Royal Navy.

I must not close this account of the disaster without dwelling for a moment upon the manner in which Captain Loxley went down with his ship. The history of the British navy is full of stories of cool, calm courage and selfless devotion in the face of death; and it is good to know that the sailors of our Navy are as true as ever to the spirit of those who built up its glorious fame in years gone by. On the very verge of doom, when men's courage is apt to fail them, Captain Loxley showed no sign of flinching. In his last moments he thought only of others. He strove manfully to save as many of his crew as possible, and he refused to endanger the lives of his comrades in the sister ships by calling them to his aid. He went to his death like the gallant gentleman that he was; and his last appeal, not only to his crew, but to you and me, was, "Be British!"

How kind and thoughtful he was to others is seen from the following letter, which he wrote to his old nurse just before leaving Sheerness:—

"H.M.S. Formidable.

One word more before I pass from this tragic story. The loss of the Formidable clearly showed that the lessons taught by the sinking of the Cressy, Hogue, and Aboukir had not been learned. Our Navy had not yet fully appreciated the fact that the only way to avoid the peril of the enemy submarines is for battleships to steam at high speed, frequently changing their course, and always accompanied by a flotilla of guardian destroyers. The eight ships that sailed down the Channel on the first day of the year 1915 steamed slowly in the bright light of the moon. They were thus a good target for the enemy's submarines, and were, indeed, courting disaster. As the year went by the Navy learned its lesson, and learned it well. Before many months had passed our sailors were more than a match for the under-water boats of the enemy, and the time was soon to arrive when the German submarines were fearlessly hunted and constantly trapped.

CHAPTER III.

Elated by their success in killing the defenceless townsfolk of unprotected towns, the Germans now prepared for another dash across the North Sea. We do not know exactly what their object was. Some tell us that an attack was to be made on the Tyne or the Forth; others say that the enemy hoped to get one or more of his battle cruisers round the north of Scotland, so that they might prey on British commerce. Whatever the object may have been, Rear-Admiral Hipper, who was in command of the Battle Cruiser Squadron detailed for the work, knew that he would probably have to meet a British fleet. If so, he intended to run for home without delay, and to lure the British ships into a trap. He enlarged the minefield north of Heligoland, and gathered there a large force of submarines. He fondly believed that he could entice our vessels into this dangerous area, where his submarines, together with the seaplanes and Zeppelins which were in readiness on the island, would make short work of them. Such was his plan. We are now to see how it failed.

The night of Saturday, the 23rd, was foggy, and our destroyers scouting east of the Dogger Bank tossed all night on the waves, scarcely able to pierce the gloom for a hundred yards around them. Sunday morning, however, dawned sharp and clear; the wind had changed to the north-east, and had swept the mists from the seas. About seven in the morning the light cruiser Aurora sighted the German squadron off the Dogger. At once she signalled the news to Admiral Beatty, and opened fire.

The German squadron which the Aurora had sighted consisted of the Seydlitz (which flew the flag of Rear-Admiral Hipper), the Moltke, the Derfflinger, the Bluecher, together with six light cruisers and a flotilla of destroyers. The first three of the vessels named had a speed of nearly 27 knots, and were armed with either 12-inch or 11-inch guns. The Bluecher was an older and much slower vessel; she could steam 24 knots, and her main armament consisted of 8.2-inch guns. It was clear that in a chase she would have to be left behind, and thus would fall a prey to the enemy.

To meet this force, Admiral Beatty had under his command the great battle cruisers Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, and New Zealand; together with the Indomitable, four cruisers of the "town" class—the Southampton, the Nottingham, the Birmingham, and the Lowestoft; three light cruisers—the Arethusa, the Aurora, and the Undaunted; as well as two destroyer flotillas. His squadron was superior to that of the Germans in numbers, speed, and weight of fire.

The Dogger Bank, off which the Germans were sighted, is a great shoal almost midway between England and Denmark, and extending to within forty miles of the Yorkshire coast. Its length from north to south is about 160 miles, its breadth is 70 miles, and the average depth of water over it varies from ten to twenty fathoms.[4] South of the Dogger is a second and smaller shoal, known as the Well Bank. Still further south are deeps, such as the "Silver Pit," where the depth is as much as forty-five fathoms.

The Dogger is the chief fishing ground of the North Sea. During the winter the waters above it are alive with trawlers, all engaged in reaping the rich harvest of the waters. Immense quantities of halibut, soles, turbot, brill, plaice, cod, haddock, and whiting are taken, packed in boxes—to be carried off by fish-cutters to the ports, or stored in ice until the trawler is ready to return home. Somewhere near the Dogger, probably on its north-eastern edge, the Germans were encountered. The naval battle which followed was not the first to be fought near the great shoal. In 1781 an English and a Dutch fleet met in these waters, and struggled fiercely; but the action was undecided, and the Dutch claimed a victory.

When the Aurora opened fire, Admiral Beatty's squadron, which was not far away, steered in the direction of the gun flashes. Immediately the German scouting cruisers perceived that a British squadron was after them they turned tail and fled to the south-east. Hipper did not wait to discover the strength of his opponents, but took to his heels at once. This seems to show that his real object was to lure the British ships into the position which he had prepared for them, and there engage them on his own terms. There were 120 miles of open sea to be crossed before the mine-fields were reached.

When the signal was made, "Seven enemy ships—four battle cruisers and three cruisers with destroyers—to the south-west," there was fierce glee on board the British ships. Every man was agog for the fight; all were eager to avenge the women and children who had been murdered so brutally at Scarborough and the Hartlepools. Every gun was manned with men who had vengeance in their hearts, and down below the "black squad" were striving with all their might to get every knot possible out of their engines. A commander was heard to remark, "One would think this was a game of football, the boys are enjoying it so much." The Lion and Tiger were soon racing ahead at thirty knots an hour, and were leaving the less speedy Princess Royal and New Zealand behind. At eight o'clock the situation was as follows: the Germans were moving south-east in line, with the Moltke leading; followed by the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger, the Bluecher bringing up the rear. Their destroyers were on the starboard beam, and their light cruisers ahead. Close upon them were the British destroyers and the light cruisers, which now crossed to the port side in order that their smoke might not hide the big German ships from the British gunners. The Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable did not follow directly behind the German ships, lest the enemy should throw out mines, but held on a parallel course to the westward.

By nine o'clock the Lion was within 11½ miles of the Bluecher. She fired a shot which fell short, but when the squadrons were ten miles apart she got her first blow home. Do you realize what this means? At ten miles the Bluecher appeared no bigger than a pin point, and she was moving at the rate of thirty miles an hour across the sea. You will agree that the British gunnery must have been superb for hits to be made under these conditions.

Soon the Lion overhauled the slow Bluecher, and in passing gave her a broadside which caused frightful damage. The Lion's quarry, however, was further ahead; and as she began to engage the Derfflinger, the Tiger began to hit out at the Bluecher. She also passed by, and the Princess Royal, the New Zealand, and the Indomitable in turn turned their guns on the rearmost ship of the German line, while the leading British ships were engaging the foremost ships of the enemy. At half-past nine the situation was as shown in the diagram on the next page.

As early as a quarter to ten the Bluecher began to show signs of the heavy punishment inflicted on her. It was now evident that she was doomed. She had been abandoned by her speedier consorts, and her end was only a matter of time. By eleven o'clock the Seydlitz and the Derfflinger were on fire; the Bluecher had fallen behind, and was being mercilessly pounded by the Indomitable.

Meanwhile, the German destroyers had attempted an attack, but had been driven off by the British destroyers. Shortly afterwards the German destroyers got between the Lion and the Tiger and the leading enemy ships, and began to raise huge volumes of smoke, so as to screen the targets from the British gunners. Under cover of this smoke the Germans changed course, and made a half-turn to the north. Again the enemy destroyers attacked at close quarters, hoping to torpedo the Lion and the Tiger. They were, however, driven off by the 4-inch guns of our battle cruisers.

The Sinking of the German Dreadnought "Bluecher," during the Battle of the Dogger Bank, fought on January 24, 1915.

And now while the chase continues, we must return to the Bluecher, which had made a gallant fight, but was nearing her end. Ship after ship had turned its guns upon her with terrible effect: her upper works had been smashed to atoms, and practically every gun which she possessed had been put out of action. Shot and shell had rained upon her, and she was burning furiously.

Battle of January 24, 1915—9.30 a.m.

About noon a British destroyer, the Meteor, torpedoed the Bluecher, and she began to sink. Here is an officer's description of the final scene:—

The Bluecher went to her doom with her flag flying. Some of the crew, while waiting the order to leap into the water, sang "Die Wacht am Rhein." Officers were seen to shake hands and link arms together, and thus sink into their watery grave. Though the Germans had made no attempt to save the crews of the Monmouth and the Good Hope during the fight off Coronel, and though our men were furious at the fiendish work done by the German cruisers at Scarborough and the Hartlepools, they began the work of rescue at once. Torpedo boats and pinnaces rushed to the scene to pick up survivors, and light cruisers stood by to help.

About one hundred and twenty men were saved from the Bluecher, and more would have been picked up but for the German aircraft, which by this time had arrived from Heligoland. To the intense anger of our sailors, a seaplane and a Zeppelin now began dropping bombs upon the rescue parties. They were careful to give a wide berth to those vessels which were armed with the latest anti-aircraft guns, and confined their attacks to the destroyers, which promptly scattered and then proceeded to drive them off. The airmen, no doubt, thought that the Bluecher was a sinking British ship, and this may have given rise to the absurd tale, which was readily believed in Germany, that one, at least, of our battle cruisers had been sunk.

We must now return to the leading ships of the British squadron. Shortly after the Germans had changed course, Admiral Beatty himself sighted the periscope of a submarine on the starboard bow of the Lion, and promptly turned to port to avoid it. At this time the flagship, though she had been under much fire, had suffered but little. At three minutes past eleven, however, she was struck in the bow by a chance shot, which damaged her feed tank. According to German accounts, the Lion was then about seventy miles from Heligoland. The accident, for it was no more, disabled the Lion. She had to reduce speed and fall out of the line. Admiral Beatty at once called up the destroyer Attack, and in it proceeded full speed in pursuit of the German squadron.

The Lion moved away to the north-west, and in the afternoon her engines began to give serious trouble. The Indomitable, which had by this time settled with the Bluecher, took the Lion in tow, and after some hours of great anxiety brought her safely to port. The towing home of the Lion by the Indomitable was a very fine feat of seamanship. She could only proceed at five knots an hour, and at this snail's pace was a fair target for submarines. None, however, dared attack her; for she bristled with torpedo defence guns, and was surrounded by destroyers.

By twenty minutes past twelve the Attack overtook the Princess Royal, on which Admiral Beatty hoisted his flag. He now discovered that his squadron had broken off the fight, and was retiring northwards. We do not know exactly why the enemy was not followed up; but as the British ships were then only forty miles from the minefield, it is probable that the admiral in temporary command thought that his vessels would be endangered if he proceeded any further. After orders had been given to clear away and make for port, the grimy stokers of the Princess Royal swarmed on deck and greeted Admiral Beatty with a shout of "Well done, David!"

Only by sheer good luck did any of the German ships escape. Had the Lion not been disabled, or had the squadron included another battle cruiser, it is probable that none of the German ships would have reached home to tell the tale. There was much disappointment in Britain when it was known that only the slowest and weakest of the German Dreadnoughts had been accounted for. Our losses were few: only fourteen men had been killed and six wounded; no British vessel had been lost; the Lion had been hit fifteen times, and the Tiger eight times, but the damage was soon repaired, and when a party of journalists visited the ships in the following October they could not see the scars of battle until they were pointed out. The Germans lost the Bluecher; the Seydlitz and Derfflinger were very hard hit, and many of their crews must have perished.

During the remainder of the year 1915 the German Fleet wisely remained in harbour. The German High Sea Fleet had become the Kiel Canal fleet, and nothing more.

There was great excitement in the Forth ports when the good news was received, and thousands of eyes were turned seawards to watch for the homecoming of the battle cruisers. Shortly after four o'clock the sound of cheering was heard. A moment later ringing "Hip, hip, hurrahs!" echoed from vessels farther up the river, and from the misty dimness of the upper reaches. "Got 'em this time!" said a smiling old salt on board a mine-sweeper. "Hark to the boys!"

A batch of about 280 prisoners, including the captain of the Bluecher, was taken to Edinburgh Castle. As they were marched through the streets of the city one of the men asked the officer in charge, "What place is this?" When he was told that it was the capital of Scotland, he smiled superior. "Oh no," he said; "Edinburgh is in ruins, and the Forth Bridge is destroyed."

The Suez Canal at El Kantara.

(Photo, Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd.)

CHAPTER IV.

Two days after the Battle of the Dogger Bank we learned that a Turkish force was advancing upon Egypt. Why were the Turks about to invade the "Land of the Nile"? First of all, because they believed that the fellahin[5] of Egypt were ready to revolt and join hands with them against the British. The Egyptians are Mohammedans, and are therefore linked with the Turks by the bond of a common religion. For three hundred years Egypt was part of the Turkish Empire.

As far back as the year 1517 Egypt became a Turkish province, and fell under the sway of the Sultan of Turkey. In 1798 Napoleon tried to found a great empire of the East, and invaded Egypt as the first step. He stormed Alexandria, and won the Battle of the Pyramids; but Nelson destroyed his fleet in Aboukir Bay, and he was forced to leave the country.

Bedouin Arabs—Advance Guards of the Turkish Army which invaded Egypt in January 1915.    Photo, Central News.

The Turkish pasha who ruled Egypt soon afterwards made himself independent of the Sultan, and his successor, Ismail Pasha, became Khedive or Viceroy. The overlordship of the Sultan was, however, still supposed to continue, though it grew more and more shadowy as the years passed by. Ismail governed his country badly; and when it became bankrupt, Britain and France had to step in to protect the interests of those of their subjects who had lent money to the Egyptian Government. What was called the Dual Control was set up in 1879, and Britain and France became the real rulers of Egypt.

The Dual Control lasted until 1882, when an Egyptian officer named Arabi Pasha raised a rebellion, with the watchword, "Egypt for the Egyptians." The French were unwilling to take part in quelling this revolt, so the British had to act alone. Alexandria was bombarded, and Arabi was defeated by Lord Wolseley at Tel-el-Kebir. Thus, the Dual Control came to an end, and Britain stood alone in Egypt.

Right well has Britain borne the "white man's burden" in the land of the Nile. When she began her work in Egypt, the only notion of law in the minds of the fellahin was the unchecked will of the "strong man armed"—

It has been said that Egypt requires two things for her prosperity—water and justice. Britain has given Egypt both water and justice. The laws have been reformed, and fair dealing between man and man is assured to the people. The taxes are heavy, but they are not unfair, and Egypt now pays her way. Schools and colleges have been opened, and Britain has striven with all her might to make the lot of the people happier and better.

Britain has been equally careful to give the country as good a water-supply as possible. She has strengthened and altered the great dam or barrage which was built across the Nile at the point where it divides into the Rosetta and Damietta branches, for the purpose of storing up water to irrigate the Delta regularly throughout the year. The whole canal system of the country has been overhauled and greatly improved. At Assiut, and higher up the river at Aswan, huge bars of solid masonry have been thrown across the Nile, and stretches of the river have been turned into vast lakes. These dams store up sufficient water to fill the "summer canals" of Upper and Middle Egypt. Never before has the cultivated area of the Nile Valley had a supply of water for the fields during both summer and winter. Further, by conquering the Sudan, Britain has gained control of the upper waters of the Nile.

Though Britain has done so much for Egypt, we must not suppose that all the Egyptians are content with her rule. The great bulk of the people are quite satisfied to live and flourish under British control, but there are some pashas who long for the "good old days" when the people were at their mercy. Amongst these discontented persons German and Turkish agents have long been busy, trying to bribe them to rise against the British Government. By the beginning of the war they had won over the Khedive to their side, and in January 1915 they believed that the Egyptians were ready to take up arms against their rulers. As a matter of fact, the Egyptians as a whole had no intention of doing anything of the kind. They remained quite calm, even when the Turk was knocking at their gates. Very few of them wished to bring back the old days of Turkish tyranny and misgovernment.

Another reason why the Turks prepared to descend upon the land of the Nile was that, on 17th December 1914, we announced to all the world that thenceforth Egypt was a British possession. The traitor Khedive had been deposed, and a new ruler who was friendly to the British Government had been set up in his place. Up to this time the British had recognized the overlordship of the Sultan of Turkey. Now they did away with it altogether, and the Turks saw that the last vestige of their hold on Egypt had vanished.

In January our forces in Egypt consisted of Australians and New Zealanders, Territorials from Great Britain, Indian troops, and, of course, the regular Egyptian army. The Germans thought that, if the Turks made an attack on the country, Britain would be forced to keep large forces in Egypt, and that she would therefore be unable to strengthen her armies on the Western front. For these reasons, political and military, a Turkish expedition was prepared in Syria for the invasion of Egypt. It was 65,000 strong, and was led by Djemel Pasha, who cherished a deep hatred for Britain.

To reach Egypt from Syria this force had to cross an almost waterless desert, which varied in breadth from 120 to 150 miles. Across this dreary tract of rock and sand there were three routes, all of them difficult. The first ran from El Arish, on the Mediterranean coast, to El Kantara, on the Suez Canal. It was 120 miles long, and except for a few muddy wells, there was no water on the road. If you look at the map below, you will see a road crossing the base of the Sinai Peninsula from Akaba, at the head of the Gulf of Akaba, to Suez, at the southern end of the Suez Canal. This road was the old pilgrim route from Egypt to the holy city of Mecca. It is 150 miles long, and there are but few wells by the way. From El Arish you will observe another road which strikes south, and meets the pilgrim's road about midway between Suez and Akaba. This road runs through a dry valley, in which it was possible to lay down a light railway. Only by these routes could the Turks reach Egypt from Syria.

The Suez Canal and the Sinai District.

You will notice that before the Turks could set foot in Egypt they would have to cross the Suez Canal, which could not be turned, because it runs from sea to sea. If the Turks could seize the Suez Canal they would command our short route to India, and would be able to impede greatly the bringing of troops to Europe from the East. No doubt this was another of the reasons which led the Turks to make a descent upon Egypt. So important is the Suez Canal to the defence of the country that I must briefly describe it.

The canal is nearly 100 miles long—76 miles of it actual canal, and 24 miles of dredged and buoyed waterway through lakes. In all this length there is not a single lock! The canal varies in width from 80 to 120 yards, and it is deep enough to float the heaviest of Dreadnoughts. Begun in 1859, it was completed ten years later, at a cost of £16,000,000. It is not the property of any one nation, but the United Kingdom is by far the largest shareholder: it holds 35 per cent. of the shares.

Let us follow the course of the canal. For the first few hours the canal crosses the shallow arm of the Mediterranean known as Lake Menzala. Two long parallel embankments cross this so-called lake, which is very shallow, and is studded with rocks. When this section is passed, we have the red sands of the desert to right and left of us. Side by side with the canal runs a sweet-water canal. It is a simple ditch, and its course can everywhere be traced by the grass and trees which flourish along its margin. Except for this fringe of verdure, no vegetation but desert scrub can be seen.

At the station of El Kantara there is a ferry, and here one may sometimes see caravans of Arabs with laden camels setting out on a journey across the desert to El Arish. Later in the day we cross Lake Balâh, pursuing our way between rows of buoys. Another stretch of canal follows, and we cross Lake Timseh, and see away on our right the town of Ismailia, from which a railway strikes off westwards. Then comes another long, straight channel, with high sand dunes on the left bank. We pass the signal station of Toussûm, set in a pleasing frame of trees, and two and a half miles further on is Serapeum. We now steam across the Bitter Lakes, which are said to represent an old arm of the Red Sea. After these lakes are passed we enter the last stretch of the canal, and finally reach Suez, beyond which lies the Red Sea.

During our voyage we notice that the ground to the east of the canal is very flat, and that from the deck of our ship, or from the higher ground on the western bank, we can see far and wide over the desert across which the Turks would have to advance. Just south of El Kantara, and again between Lake Balâh and the Bitter Lakes, there are sand dunes; but elsewhere there is no cover for an attacker. The defenders of Egypt thought it probable that the Turks would make their descent upon the canal along the line of the sand dunes.

By 28th January small advanced parties of Turks had crossed the desert. One party, marching by the direct route from El Arish to El Kantara, was met and driven back by Gurkhas; another party, advancing by the road from Akaba, suffered the same fate. On 2nd February the main attack was delivered by about 12,000 troops, who had marched along the valley from El Arish towards the Sinai Peninsula. When they were about four hours distant from the canal they divided into two columns, and proceeded westwards. One column moved towards the sand dunes opposite to Ismailia, while the second and much stronger column pushed on towards Toussûm. Small flanking attacks were also made against El Kantara and Suez.

Fighting at the Suez Canal, February 2-4, 1915.

The advance of the enemy had been known for some days, and our troops were in position ready to meet it. They were full of confidence, and were quite sure that the Turks would never enter Egypt save as prisoners. As the sun sank in a flaming sky on 2nd February our patrols saw the enemy moving towards the hummocks of sand that fringe the canal. When night fell, the Turks pushed their main force through the scrub and dunes towards a gap which gave them an easy road to the canal opposite Toussûm. The Turks had dragged across the deserts in carts some twenty-five or thirty galvanized iron pontoons, each weighing about 850 lbs. When they approached the canal, the pontoons were shouldered by men and carried towards the water. By means of these pontoons, and a few rafts made out of kerosene tins with a wooden frame, the Turks proposed to cross the canal.

The first warning of the enemy's approach was given by a sentry of a mountain battery, who heard voices across the water. Soon the noise increased. The Turks were loudly encouraging each other by crying out in Arabic, "Brothers, die for the faith; we can die but once," and so forth. The defenders were on the alert, but they were in no hurry to fire. They did not even pull their triggers when the invaders were carrying the pontoons down to the canal. Not until numbers of the enemy were crowded together under the steep bank, and were pushing their pontoons into the water, did the machine guns and rifles of the British begin to rattle. Then the fire was deadly; the Turks were speedily mown down, and the pontoons, riddled with bullets, were soon at the bottom of the canal.

The Turkish Attack on the Suez Canal.    By permission of The Sphere.

On the night of February 2nd, 1915, two Turkish columns, numbering about 12,000 in all, moved towards the canal—the front and smaller column against Ismalia; the second against Toussûm. Our illustration shows the latter attack in progress. To the right, the Turks are seen advancing under heavy shell and rifle fire, and vainly trying to launch boats. To the left are the Punjabis resisting the attack. The Turks were driven back at this point, and an attempt to cross at Ismalia suffered a similar fate. The Turks retired in good order, and unfortunately were able to march back to Syria without much molestation.

The Turks now lined the banks, and redoubled their efforts to get across.

A little torpedo boat, with a crew of thirteen, dashed to and fro, firing point-blank at the enemy, and smashing into fragments the pontoons which lay unlaunched on the bank. The duel continued through the dark, cloudy night.

When morning dawned, the battle became general all along the canal. The enemy brought up field guns, and the British and French warships in the canal joined in the fray. A few Turks who had swum across the canal began to snipe our men from the rear, but they were soon disposed of. Those who swam across later were deserters eager to surrender.

At about eleven in the morning two 6-inch shells from the Turkish batteries hit H.M.S. Hardinge, an old Indian marine transport. One of the shells fell with a terrific crash on the bridge, almost severing the leg of Pilot Carew. He calmly looked down at his mangled leg, and, gripping the rail, shouted, "Bring me a chair. I am going to take this ship into port!" During the battle Pilot Carew received no fewer than eighteen wounds. The guns of the warships began to fire salvos, and soon the Turkish batteries were silenced.

Now that the pontoons of the enemy had been destroyed, the German commander had been killed, and the troops lying in cover had been shelled out of their hiding-places, the Turks realized that their attempt at invasion had hopelessly failed. Half-hearted flank attacks at El Kantara and Suez had been held up by our wire entanglements, and the time had arrived for our Indian troops to take the offensive. Excellent artillery and rifle fire cleared the greater part of the eastern bank, and by three o'clock in the afternoon of 3rd February the Turks were in full retreat. They had done nothing more than engage our outpost line.

Early next morning the British troops crossed the canal in force, and began the work of rounding up the enemy. Many Turks were found in a hollow, and some of them held up their hands when our men approached. As a British officer advanced to take the surrender he was shot down. A sharp fight with the cold steel followed, during which one of our officers engaged a Turkish officer in single combat and ran him through. Some 400 dead were counted, more than 600 prisoners were taken, and the total Turkish casualties were probably well over 2,000. For days following deserters drifted in, and by 8th February there was not a single Turk within twenty miles of the canal.

Unfortunately the bulk of the enemy, with baggage and guns, got away safely. A heavy sandstorm came on, and our Camel Corps were unable to follow up the beaten and dispirited enemy. Had this not happened, it is probable that the whole force would have been captured or destroyed. The Turks declared that their advance on the canal was merely for the purpose of discovering the strength of the enemy and the character of his defences. Whatever the object was, it was not repeated during 1915; Egypt remained unmolested for the rest of the year.

One incident which occurred during the fighting is worthy of special mention. An officer on board the torpedo boat which did such good work in harassing the enemy thus tells the story:—