Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

“All seems well then, sir.”

“It does, my boy. We’d do the job without the pair of them. With them, it’s a matter of course. Add to that, there’s a Japanese squadron on the coast as well, with one of their fast battleships. Can’t underrate the Japs, not after Tsu Shima.”

The Japanese fleet had utterly destroyed the Russians in that famous battle less than ten years before, one which had turned around Western perceptions of their navy.

“Sounds like a race for who gets there first, sir.”

“That will be us. The Navy will be second to none!”

Hector retired to his cabin, taking his misgivings with him. Having a substantial private income, he had his own copy of Jane’s Fighting Ships of the World and looked up the German ships again.

“Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. Heavy beasts, for fast cruisers!”

He read the brief details, reminded himself that the German ships were not especially well armoured and were in many ways poorly designed, according to British orthodoxy. They were fast and their gunnery control systems were said to be modern, although there were few details. In the end, it seemed, they would be markedly inferior to Defence, but carried far more heavy guns than Good Hope . Monmouth , a six inch gun cruiser, could not live with them. If Defence and Canopus joined, then the result would be a brief and entirely successful battle; with one of the pair present, the British ships would take damage but should prevail; with neither added to the existing squadron, then the Navy might win in a close range affair.

Hector made his way aft, spent two hours with his gun crew, working them in local control, as would be needed if the Commander and his little gunnery control tower were lost to enemy shellfire.

He returned to the bridge to stand his watch, unhappy with the level of efficiency of the gunners or the turret rangefinders and sighting telescopes. The equipment was old and the gunners complacent, convinced that they would win simply because the Navy always did. He suspected that attitude carried as far as Admiral Craddock’s cabin.

They sailed from Port Stanley, the four ships of the original squadron in line and no certain knowledge of the whereabouts of the reinforcements or of the Japanese.

“They’ll join us off the Chilean coast, Sub. Glasgow will go into Valparaiso to pick up the telegrams from the Admiralty. We’ll be told exactly where they are then.”

The squadron had wireless, but of very limited range; they were reliant on telegrams onshore for any communications in excess of about three hundred miles. Valparaiso was a neutral port and belligerents had the right of entry to speak to their consuls or make repairs or purchase provisions or coal. The consuls ashore were at liberty to contact their own forces with any information they might discover. Sending Glasgow in meant the German consul, who probably had his own wireless equipment, would be free to inform the Tsingtao squadron of her location.

Hector made this point tentatively.

“So much the better, McDuff – if they come after us, it saves us the bother of finding them!”

The captain’s words, delivered in friendly enough fashion, brought the discussion to a close.

Hector lifted his glasses, checked that the three lesser members of the squadron were in place.

Monmouth at two cables distance, in precise line, her six inch guns seeming tiny; Glasgow with two six inch and ten four inch, more modern, faster and with torpedo tubes as her major armament, a very smart seeming ship but far smaller; Otranto , high out of the water, an armed merchantman with four guns and no armour – a liability whose sole virtue was to extend the line in a search. The squadron might seem impressive to a landsman, but it was very thin. So far they had captured one German merchantman on her way home in August and unaware of any war; they had achieved very little besides.

Cape Horn was less unfriendly in high summer – it was cool rather than bitterly cold and the sea was relatively calm, no worse than the Pentland Firth to the north of Scotland, though that was regarded as one of the most vicious stretches of water in the whole of the North Atlantic. They made their passage and turned north within distant sight of the coast of Chile. Passing the exit to the Magellan Strait they turned their glasses hopefully in search of smoke from Canopus and listened for the wireless on Defence, more modern and powerful than that of Good Hope . There was nothing from the British ship but the wireless operator reported picking up distant and incomprehensible traffic. He reported to the bridge in some excitement.

“It’s not British, sir. Most likely Telefunken, sir, slightly different technically to our system. Morse, sir, but too fuzzy to pick out clearly.”

The captain was impressed by the knowledge displayed by the young man.

“Likely to be the Germans, is it?”

“Might be, sir, but Germany sold Telefunken transmitters and receivers widely before the war, sir. I think that some of the South American navies bought the system.”

“Might not be, then… I shall inform the Admiral.”

An hour later Glasgow was detached to Valparaiso.

The light cruiser, much faster than the rest of the squadron, headed away to the north.

“Squadron will make best speed to Valparaiso.”

Admiral Craddock did not explain why but it seemed obvious that he wanted immediate access to the telegrams from the Admiralty, with perhaps further information on the location of Canopus and Defence.

Hector was ignorant of some of the technical details relating to neutrality, asked the Gunnery Commander for a quick briefing.

“What happens if Glasgow finds the Germans in Valparaiso, coaling, say, sir?”

“Difficult! In theory, the Chileans must enforce a twenty-four hours delay between the two sets of ships leaving. If Glasgow spots them, turns about and leaves territorial waters, then Von Spee’s squadron must not go in chase for a whole day.”

“That would leave them at a hell of a disadvantage, sir. We would have all that time to set ourselves up for them, or to hold off and shadow them wherever they sailed.”

“Precisely, Sub! If the Chileans have a battleship or two in port and are willing to enforce the rules, then Von Spee will be obedient. However! And a big ‘however’ it is! The Chileans are thought to be pro-German. Berlin has a lot of business interests in Chile and is said to have bought a number of leading politicians. We have done the same in Argentina and Brazil; the City of London owns half of the cattle ranches in Argentina and all of the politicians. Thing is, the odds are the Chileans will turn a blind eye to the Germans taking off in immediate pursuit. If they are there, we are likely to see Glasgow at full speed flying ‘enemy in sight’.”

“What then, sir?”

“Admiral Craddock will take the action that seems good to him. I expect he will fight. Not one to run away, Kit Craddock!”

There was a general, excited expectation of action, of a real battle. Heligoland Bight had been a confused mess; this would be a proper stand-up fight with the best side winning.

“The Germans outnumber us, having three light cruisers in company, but they are very small and irrelevant in terms of the battle, unless they can close with torpedoes, I suppose… Our six inch will deal with that problem if it arises. Should be able to cripple them before they can get in range in daylight. Not as if they were fast little torpedo boats or destroyers, tiny and agile and hard to hit…”

“Only a threat in night action, you would say, sir?”

“I would judge so, Sub.”

“What if they go after Glasgow , sir?”