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-Saône, 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 Jägers 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 Chambéry, 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 Saône 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 Duperré, a magnificent steel vessel of eleven thousand tons; the Neptune and Redoutable, a trifle smaller; the Tonnerre, the Terrible, the Furieux, the Indomptable, the Caïman, 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, Pondichéry 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 £200,000,000 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.