World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, British
The three cruisers, sister ships, were on patrol duty in the North Sea
early on the morning of September 22nd. They were alone, protecting our
own merchant ships and on the look-out for vessels that were
mine-laying. The weather was nice, with a rather heavy swell on the
water. There had been plenty of bad weather, and this was the first good
day we had had for a week.
I had done my twelve years in the Navy and had been called up from the
Royal Fleet Reserve. We had settled into our stride and had been in at
the tail-end of the scrap in the Heligoland Bight, where the _Hogue_
got hold of the _Arethusa_ and towed her away. At that time the
_Arethusa_ had been commissioned only about two days. We knew that she
was just beginning her life; but we little thought that the _Hogue_ was
ending hers.
It was my watch below, and I was asleep in my hammock when the bugles
sounded the _réveillé_, and we were shaken up and told that one of our
ships was going down. We had turned in all standing, and lost no time in
rushing on deck. Then I saw that the _Aboukir_, which was about six
hundred yards away, was heeling over, and that we were steaming up to
her assistance. At first we thought she had been mined; but we quickly
learned that she had been torpedoed by German submarines. We were very
soon alongside of her, and were doing everything we could to save the
survivors. It was very clear that she was sinking, that a good many of
the crew had been killed by the explosion, and that a lot of men, who
were far below, in the engine-room and stokeholds, would have no chance
of escaping.
We instantly started getting out the few boats that were left in our
ship. There were only three, because we were cleared for action, and as
it was war-time the great majority of them had been taken away. This has
to be done so that there shall be as little woodwork as possible to be
splintered by shells. With extraordinary speed some of the _Aboukir’s_
men had got to the _Hogue_, and some, who were badly hurt, had been
taken to the sick-bay and were being attended to. The attack had come
swiftly, and it was for us the worst of all attacks to guard against;
but there was nothing like panic anywhere, and from the calmness of
things you might have thought that the three ships were carrying out
some ordinary evolution.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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