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The Invasion

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Title: The Invasion

Author: William Le Queux


        
Release date: May 18, 2011 [eBook #36155]

Language: English

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[Illustration: THE GREAT FIGHT.]


THE INVASION

by

WM. LE QUEUX







LONDON: GEORGE NEWNES, LTD.




PREFACE.


"I sometimes despair of the country ever becoming alive to the danger of
the unpreparedness of our present position until too late to prevent
some fatal catastrophe."

This was the keynote of a solemn warning made in the House of Lords by
Earl Roberts. His lordship, whilst drawing attention to our present
inadequate forces, strongly urged that action should be taken in
accordance with the recommendations of the Elgin Commission that "no
military system could be considered satisfactory which did not contain
powers of expansion outside the limit of the regular forces of the
Crown."

"The lessons of the late war appear to have been forgotten. The one
prevailing idea seems to be," said Earl Roberts, "to cut down our
military expenditure without reference to our increased responsibilities
and our largely augmented revenue. History tells us in the plainest
terms that an Empire which cannot defend its own possessions must
inevitably perish." And with this view both Lord Milner and the Marquis
of Lansdowne concurred. But surely this is not enough. If we are to
retain our position as the first nation of the world we must be prepared
to defend any raid made upon our shores.

The object of this book is to illustrate our utter unpreparedness for
war from a military standpoint; to show how, under certain conditions
which may easily occur, England can be successfully invaded by Germany;
and to present a picture of the ruin which must inevitably fall upon us
on the evening of that not far-distant day.

Ever since Lord Roberts formulated his plans for the establishment of
rifle-clubs I have been deeply interested in the movement: and after a
conversation with that distinguished soldier the idea occurred to me to
write a forecast, based upon all the available military knowledge--which
would bring home to the British public vividly and forcibly what really
would occur were an enemy suddenly to appear in our midst. At the outset
it was declared by the strategists I consulted to be impossible. No such
book could ever be written, for, according to them, the mass of
technical detail was far too great to digest and present in an
intelligible manner to the public.

Lord Roberts, however, gave me encouragement. The skeleton scheme of the
manner in which England could be invaded by Germany was submitted to a
number of the highest authorities on strategy, whose names, however, I
am not permitted to divulge, and after many consultations, much
criticism, and considerable difference of opinion, the "general idea,"
with amendment after amendment, was finally adopted.

That, however, was only a mere preliminary. Upon questions of tactics
each tactician consulted held a different view, and each criticised
adversely the other's suggestions.

One way alone remained open--namely, to take the facts exactly as they
stood, add the additional strength of the opposing nations as they at
present are, and then draw logical conclusions. This, aided by experts,
was done: and after many days of argument with the various authorities,
we succeeded in getting them in accord as to the general practicability
of an invasion.

Before putting pen to paper it was necessary to reconnoitre carefully
the whole of England from the Thames to the Tyne. This I did by means of
a motor-car, travelling 10,000 miles of all kinds of roads, and making a
tour extending over four months. Each town, all the points of vantage,
military positions, all the available landing places on the coast, all
railway connections, and telephone and telegraph communications, were
carefully noted for future reference. With the assistance of certain
well-known military experts, the battlefields were carefully gone over
and the positions marked upon the Ordnance map. Thus, through four
months we pushed on day by day collecting information and material,
sometimes in the big cities, sometimes in the quietest and remotest
hamlets, all of which was carefully tabulated for use.

Whatever critics may say, and however their opinions may differ, it can
only be pointed out, first, that the "general idea" of the scheme is in
accordance with the expressed and published opinions of the first
strategists of to-day, and that, as far as the forecast of events is
concerned, it has been written from a first-hand knowledge of the local
colour of each of the scenes described. The enemy's Proclamations
reproduced are practically copies of those issued by the Germans during
the war of 1870.

That the experts and myself will probably be condemned as alarmists and
denounced for revealing information likely to be of assistance to an
enemy goes without saying. Indeed, an attempt was made in the House of
Commons to suppress its publication altogether. Mr. R. C. Lehmann, who
asked a question of the Prime Minister, declared that it was "calculated
to prejudice our relations with the other Powers," while the late Sir H.
Campbell-Bannerman, in a subsequent letter apologising to me for
condemning in the House a work he had not read, repeated that it was
likely to "produce irritation abroad and might conceivably alarm the
more ignorant public at home."

Such a reflection, cast by the late Prime Minister upon the British
nation was, to say the least, curious, yet it only confirmed the truth
that the Government are strenuously seeking to conceal from our people
the appalling military weakness and the consequent danger to which the
country is constantly open.

To be weak is to invite war: to be strong is to prevent it.

To arouse our country to a sense of its own lamentable insecurity is the
object of this volume, which is somewhat compressed from the form in
which it originally appeared, and that other nations besides ourselves
are interested in England's grave peril is proved by the fact that it
has already been published in the German, French, Spanish, Danish,
Russian, Italian, and even Japanese languages.

    WILLIAM LE QUEUX.




Speaking in the House of Lords on the 10th July 1905, I said:--"It is
to the people of the country I appeal to take up the question of the
Army in a sensible practical manner. For the sake of all they hold dear,
let them bring home to themselves what would be the condition of Great
Britain if it were to lose its wealth, its power, its position." The
catastrophe that may happen if we still remain in our present state of
unpreparedness is visibly and forcibly illustrated in Mr. Le Queux's new
book which I recommend to the perusal of every one who has the welfare
of the British Empire at heart.

    29. Nov. 1905       Roberts, FM




THE INVASION.




BOOK I.

THE ATTACK.




CHAPTER I.

THE SURPRISE.


Two of the myriad of London's nightworkers were walking down Fleet
Street together soon after dawn on Sunday morning, 2nd September.

The sun had not yet risen. That main artery of London traffic, with its
irregular rows of closed shops and newspaper offices, was quiet and
pleasant in the calm, mystic light before the falling of the smoke-pall.

Only at early morning does the dear old City look its best; in that one
quiet, sweet hour when the night's toil has ended and the day's has not
yet begun. Only in that brief interval at the birth of day, when the
rose tints of the sky glow slowly into gold, does the giant metropolis
repose--at least, as far as its business streets are concerned--for at
five o'clock the toiling millions begin to again pour in from all points
of the compass, and the stress and storm of London at once recommences.

And in that hour of silent charm the two grey-bearded sub-editors,
though engaged in offices of rival newspapers were making their way
homeward to Dulwich to spend Sunday in a well-earned rest, and were
chatting "shop," as Press men do.

"I suppose you had the same trouble to get that Yarmouth story through?"
asked Fergusson, the news-editor of the "Dispatch," as they crossed
Whitefriars Street. "We got about half a column, and then the wire shut
down."

"Telegraph or telephone?" inquired Baines, who was four or five years
younger than his friend.

"We were using both--to make sure."

"So were we. It was a rattling good story--the robbery was mysterious,
to say the least--but we didn't get more than half of it. Something's
wrong with the line, evidently," Baines said. "If it were not such a
perfect autumn morning, I should be inclined to think there'd been a
storm somewhere."

"Yes--funny, wasn't it?" remarked the other. "A shame we haven't the
whole story, for it was a first-class one, and we wanted something. Did
you put it on the contents-bill?"

"No, because we couldn't get the finish. I tried in every way--rang up
the Central News, P.A., Exchange Telegraph Company, tried to get through
to Yarmouth on the trunk, and spent half an hour or so pottering about,
but the reply from all the agencies, from everywhere, in fact, was the
same--the line was interrupted."

"Just our case. I telephoned to the Post Office, but the reply came back
that the lines were evidently down."

"Well, it certainly looks as though there'd been a storm, but----" and
Baines glanced at the bright, clear sky overhead, just flushed by the
bursting sun--"there are certainly no traces of it."

"There's often a storm on the coast when it's quite still in London, my
dear fellow," remarked his friend wisely.

"That's all very well. But when all communication with a big place like
Yarmouth is suddenly cut off, as it has been, I can't help suspecting
that something has happened which we ought to know."

"You're perhaps right, after all," Fergusson said. "I wonder if anything
has happened. We don't want to be called back to the office, either of
us. My assistant, Henderson, whom I've left in charge, rings me up over
any mare's nest. The trunk telephones all come into the Post Office
Exchange up in Carter Lane. Why not look in there before we go home? It
won't take us a quarter of an hour, and we have several trains home from
Ludgate Hill."

Baines looked at his watch. Like his companion, he had no desire to be
called back to his office after getting out to Dulwich, and yet he was
in no mood to go making reporter's inquiries.

"I don't think I'll go. It's sure to be nothing, my dear fellow," he
said. "Besides, I have a beastly headache. I had a heavy night's work.
One of my men is away ill."

"Well, at any rate, I think I'll go," Fergusson said. "Don't blame me if
you get called back for a special edition with a terrible storm, great
loss of life, and all that sort of thing. So long." And, smiling, he
waved his hand and parted from his friend in the booking office of
Ludgate Hill Station.

Quickening his pace, he hurried through the office, and, passing out by
the back, ascended the steep, narrow street until he reached the Post
Office Telephone Exchange in Carter Lane, where, presenting his card, he
asked to see the superintendent-in-charge.

Without much delay he was shown upstairs into a small private office,
into which came a short, dapper, fair-moustached man with the bustle of
a man in a great hurry.

"I've called," the sub-editor explained, "to know whether you can tell
me anything regarding the cause of the interruption of the line to
Yarmouth a short time ago. We had some important news coming through,
but were cut off just in the midst of it, and then we received
information that all the telephone and telegraph lines to Yarmouth were
interrupted."

"Well, that's just the very point which is puzzling us at this moment,"
was the night-superintendent's reply. "It is quite unaccountable. Our
trunk going to Yarmouth seems to be down, as well as the telegraphs.
Yarmouth, Lowestoft, and beyond Beccles seem all to have been suddenly
cut off. About eighteen minutes to four the operators noticed something
wrong, switched the trunks through to the testers, and the latter
reported to me in due course."

"That's strange! Did they all break down together?"

"No. The first that failed was the one that runs through Chelmsford,
Colchester, and Ipswich up to Lowestoft and Yarmouth. The operator found
that he could get through to Ipswich and Beccles. Ipswich knew nothing,
except that something was wrong. They could still ring up Beccles, but
not beyond."

As they were speaking, there was a tap at the door, and the assistant
night-superintendent entered, saying:

"The Norwich line through Scole and Long Stratton has now failed, sir.
About half-past four Norwich reported a fault somewhere north, between
there and Cromer. But the operator now says that the line is apparently
broken, and so are all the telegraphs from there to Cromer, Sheringham,
and Holt."

"Another line has gone, then!" exclaimed the superintendent-in-charge,
utterly astounded. "Have you tried to get on to Cromer by the other
routes--through Nottingham and King's Lynn, or through Cambridge?"

"The testers have tried every route, but there's no response."

"You could get through to some of the places--Yarmouth, for instance--by
telegraphing to the Continent, I suppose?" asked Fergusson.

"We are already trying," responded the assistant superintendent.

"What cables run out from the east coast in that neighbourhood?"
inquired the sub-editor quickly.

"There are five between Southwold and Cromer--three run to Germany, and
two to Holland," replied the assistant. "There's the cable from Yarmouth
to Barkum, in the Frisian Islands; from Happisburg, near Mundesley, to
Barkum; from Yarmouth to Emden; from Lowestoft to Haarlem, and from
Kessingland, near Southwold, to Zandyport."

"And you are trying all the routes?" asked his superior.

"I spoke to Paris myself an hour ago and asked them to cable by all five
routes to Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Kessingland, and Happisburg," was the
assistant's reply. "I also asked Liverpool Street Station and King's
Cross to wire down to some of their stations on the coast, but the reply
was that they were in the same predicament as ourselves--their lines
were down north of Beccles, Wymondham, East Dereham, and also south of
Lynn. I'll just run along and see if there's any reply from Paris. They
ought to be through by this time, as it's Sunday morning, and no
traffic." And he went out hurriedly.

"There's certainly something very peculiar," remarked the
superintendent-in-charge to the sub-editor. "If there's been an
earthquake or an electrical disturbance, then it is a most extraordinary
one. Every single line reaching to the coast seems interrupted."

"Yes. It's uncommonly funny," Fergusson remarked. "I wonder what could
have happened. You've never had a complete breakdown like this before?"

"Never. But I think----"

The sentence remained unfinished, for his assistant returned with a slip
of paper in his hand, saying:

"This message has just come in from Paris, I'll read it. 'Superintendent
Telephones, Paris, to Superintendent Telephones, London.--Have obtained
direct telegraphic communication with operators of all five cables to
England. Haarlem, Zandyport, Barkum, and Emden all report that cables
are interrupted. They can get no reply from England, and tests show that
cables are damaged somewhere near English shore.'"

"Is that all?" asked Fergusson.

"That's all. Paris knows no more than we do," was the assistant's
response.

"Then the Norfolk and Suffolk coasts are completely isolated--cut off
from post office, railways, telephones, and cables!" exclaimed the
superintendent. "It's mysterious--most mysterious!" And, taking up the
instrument upon his table, he placed a plug in one of the holes down the
front of the table itself, and a moment later was in conversation with
the official in charge of the traffic at Liverpool Street, repeating the
report from Paris, and urging him to send light engines north from
Wymondham or Beccles into the zone of the mystery.

The reply came back that he had already done so, but a telegram had
reached him from Wymondham to the effect that the road-bridges between
Kimberley and Hardingham had apparently fallen in, and the line was
blocked by debris. Interruption was also reported beyond Swaffham, at a
place called Little Dunham.

"Then even the railways themselves are broken!" cried Fergusson. "Is it
possible that there has been a great earthquake?"

"An earthquake couldn't very well destroy all five cables from the
Continent," remarked the superintendent gravely.

The latter had scarcely placed the receiver upon the hook when a third
man entered--an operator who, addressing him, said:

"Will you please come to the switchboard, sir? There's a man in the
Ipswich call office who has just told me a most extraordinary story. He
says that he started in his motor-car alone from Lowestoft to London at
half-past three this morning, and just as it was getting light he was
passing along the edge of Henham Park, between Wangford village and
Blythburgh, when he saw three men apparently repairing the telegraph
wires. One was up the pole, and the other two were standing below. As he
passed he saw a flash, for, to his surprise, one of the men fired
point-blank at him with a revolver. Fortunately, the shot went wide, and
he at once put on a move and got down into Blythburgh village, even
though one of his tyres went down. It had probably been pierced by the
bullet fired at him, as the puncture was unlike any he had ever had
before. At Blythburgh he informed the police of the outrage, and the
constable, in turn, woke up the postmaster, who tried to telegraph back
to the police at Wrentham, but found that the line was interrupted. Was
it possible that the men were cutting the wires, instead of repairing
them? He says that after repairing the puncture he took the village
constable and three other men on his car and went back to the spot,
where, although the trio had escaped, they saw that wholesale havoc had
been wrought with the telegraphs. The lines had been severed in four or
five places, and whole lengths tangled up into great masses. A number of
poles had been sawn down, and were lying about the roadside. Seeing that
nothing could be done, the gentleman remounted his car, came on to
Ipswich, and reported the damage at our call office."

"And is he still there?" exclaimed the superintendent quickly, amazed at
the motorist's statement.

"Yes. I asked him to wait for a few moments in order to speak to you,
sir."

"Good. I'll go at once. Perhaps you'd like to come also, Mr. Fergusson?"

And all three ran up to the gallery, where the huge switchboards were
ranged around, and where the night operators, with the receivers
attached to one ear, were still at work.

In a moment the superintendent had taken the operator's seat, adjusted
the ear-piece, and was in conversation with Ipswich. A second later he
was speaking with the man who had actually witnessed the cutting of the
trunk line.

While he was thus engaged an operator at the farther end of the
switchboard suddenly gave vent to a cry of surprise and disbelief.

"What do you say, Beccles? Repeat it," he asked excitedly.

Then a moment later he shouted aloud:

"Beccles says that German soldiers--hundreds of them--are pouring into
the place! The Germans have landed at Lowestoft, they think."

All who heard those ominous words sprang up dumbfounded, staring at each
other.

The assistant-superintendent dashed to the operator's side and seized
his apparatus.

"Halloa--halloa, Beccles! Halloa--halloa--halloa!"

The response was some gruff words in German, and the sound of scuffling
could distinctly be heard. Then all was silent.

Time after time he rang up the small Suffolk town, but in vain. Then he
switched through to the testers, and quickly the truth was plain.

The second trunk line to Norwich, running from Ipswich by Harleston and
Beccles, had been cut farther towards London.

But what held everyone breathless in the trunk telephone headquarters
was that the Germans had actually effected the surprise landing that had
so often in recent years been predicted by military critics; that
England on that quiet September Sunday morning had been attacked.
England was actually invaded. It was incredible!

Yet London's millions in their Sunday morning lethargy were in utter
ignorance of the grim disaster that had suddenly fallen upon the land.

Fergusson was for rushing at once back to the "Dispatch" office to get
out an extraordinary edition, but the superintendent, who was still in
conversation with the motorist, urged judicious forethought.

"For the present, let us wait. Don't let us alarm the public
unnecessarily. We want corroboration. Let us have the motorist up here,"
he suggested.

"Yes," cried the sub-editor. "Let me speak to him."

Over the wire Fergusson begged the stranger to come at once to London
and give his story, declaring that the military authorities would
require it. Then, just as the man who had been shot at by German advance
spies--for such they had undoubtedly been--in order to prevent the
truth leaking out, gave his promise to come to town at once, there came
over the line from the coastguard at Southwold a vague, incoherent
telephone message regarding strange ships having been seen to the
northward, and asking for connection with Harwich; while King's Cross
and Liverpool Street Stations both rang up almost simultaneously,
reporting the receipt of extraordinary messages from King's Lynn, Diss,
Harleston, Halesworth, and other places. All declared that German
soldiers were swarming over the north, that Lowestoft and Beccles had
been seized, and that Yarmouth and Cromer were isolated.

Various stationmasters reported that the enemy had blown up bridges,
taken up rails, and effectually blocked all communication with the
coast. Certain important junctions were already held by the enemy's
outposts.

Such was the amazing news received in that high-up room in Carter Lane,
City, on that sweet, sunny morning when all the great world of London
was at peace, either still slumbering or week-ending.

Fergusson remained for a full hour and a half at the Telephone Exchange,
anxiously awaiting any further corroboration. Many wild stories came
over the wires telling how panic-stricken people were fleeing inland
away from the enemy's outposts. Then he took a hansom to the "Dispatch"
office, and proceeded to prepare a special edition of his paper--an
edition containing surely the most amazing news that had ever startled
London.

Fearing to create undue panic, he decided not to go to press until the
arrival of the motorist from Ipswich. He wanted the story of the man who
had actually seen the cutting of the wires. He paced his room excitedly,
wondering what effect the news would have upon the world. In the rival
newspaper offices the report was, as yet, unknown. With journalistic
forethought he had arranged that at present the bewildering truth should
not leak out to his rivals, either from the railway termini or from the
telephone exchange. His only fear was that some local correspondent
might telegraph from some village or town nearer the metropolis which
was still in communication with the central office.

Time passed very slowly. Each moment increased his anxiety. He had sent
out the one reporter who remained on duty to the house of Colonel Sir
James Taylor, the Permanent Under-Secretary for War. Halting before the
open window, he looked up and down the street for the arriving
motor-car. But all was quiet.

Eight o'clock had just boomed from Big Ben, and London still remained in
her Sunday morning peace. The street, bright in the warm sunshine, was
quite empty, save for a couple of motor-omnibuses and a sprinkling of
gaily dressed holiday-makers on their way to the day excursion trains.

In that centre of London--the hub of the world--all was comparatively
silent, the welcome rest after the busy turmoil that through six days in
the week is unceasing, that fevered throbbing of the heart of the
world's great capital.

Of a sudden, however, came the whirr-r of an approaching car, as a
thin-faced, travel-stained man tore along from the direction of the
Strand and pulled up before the office. The fine car, a six-cylinder
"Napier," was grey with the mud of country roads, while the motorist
himself was smothered until his goggles had been almost entirely
covered.

Fergusson rushed out to him, and a few moments later the pair were in
the upstairs room, the sub-editor swiftly taking down the motorist's
story, which differed very little from what he had already spoken over
the telephone.

Then, just as Big Ben chimed the half-hour, the echoes of the
half-deserted Strand were suddenly awakened by the loud, strident voices
of the newsboys shouting:

"'Dispatch,' spe-shall! Invasion of England this morning! Germans in
Suffolk! Terrible panic! Spe-shall! 'Dispatch,' Spe-shall!"

As soon as the paper had gone to press Fergusson urged the
motorist--whose name was Horton, and who lived at Richmond--to go with
him to the War Office and report. Therefore, both men entered the car,
and as they did so a man jumped from a hansom in breathless haste. He
was the reporter whom Fergusson had sent out to Sir James Taylor's house
in Cleveland Square, Hyde Park.

"They thought Sir James spent the night with his brother up at
Hampstead," he exclaimed. "I've been there, but find that he's away for
the week-end at Chilham Hall, near Buckden."

"Buckden! That's on the Great North Road!" cried Horton, "We'll go at
once and find him. Sixty miles from London. We can be there under two
hours!"

And a few minutes later the pair were tearing due north, turning at last
into the handsome lodge-gates of Chilham Park, and running up the great
elm avenue, drew up before the main door of the ancient hall, a quaint
many-gabled old place of grey stone.

A few moments later the breathless journalist faced the Permanent
Under-Secretary with the news that England was invaded--that the Germans
had actually effected a surprise landing on the east coast.

Sir James and his host stood speechless. Like others, they at first
believed the pale-faced, bearded sub-editor to be a lunatic, but a few
moments later, when Horton briefly repeated the story, they saw that,
whatever might have occurred, the two men were at least in deadly
earnest.

"Impossible!" cried Sir James. "We should surely have heard something of
it if such were actually the case. The coastguard would have telephoned
the news instantly. Besides, where is our fleet?"

"The Germans evidently laid their plans with great cleverness. Their
spies, already in England, cut the wires at a pre-arranged hour last
night," declared Fergusson. "They sought to prevent this gentleman from
giving the alarm by shooting him. All the railways to London are already
either cut or held by the enemy. One thing, however, is clear--fleet or
no fleet, the east coast is entirely at their mercy."

Host and guest exchanged dark glances.

"Well, if what you say is the actual truth," exclaimed Sir James,
"to-day is surely the blackest day that England has ever known."

"Yes, they should have listened to Lord Roberts," snapped his lordship.
"I suppose you'll go at once, Taylor, and make inquiries?"

"Of course," responded the Permanent Secretary. And a quarter of an hour
later, accepting Horton's offer, he was sitting in the car as it headed
back towards London.

Could the journalist's story be true? As he sat there, with his head
bent against the wind and the mud splashing into his face, Sir James
recollected too well the repeated warnings of the past five years,
serious warnings by men who knew our shortcomings, but to which no
attention had been paid. Both the Government and the public had remained
apathetic, the idea of peril had been laughed to scorn, and the country
had, ostrich-like, buried its head in the sand, and allowed Continental
nations to supersede us in business, in armaments, in everything.

The danger of invasion had always been ridiculed as a mere alarmist's
fiction; those responsible for the defence of the country had smiled,
the Navy had been reduced, and the Army had remained in contented
inefficiency.

If the blow had really been struck by Germany? If she had risked three
or four, out of her twenty-three, army corps, and had aimed at the heart
of the British Empire? What then? Ay! what then?

As the car glided down Regent Street into Pall Mall and towards
Whitehall, Sir James saw on every side crowds discussing the vague but
astounding reports now published in special editions of all the Sunday
papers, and shouted wildly everywhere.

Boys bearing sheets fresh from the Fleet Street presses were seized, and
bundles torn from them by excited Londoners eager to learn the latest
intelligence.

Around both War Office and Admiralty great surging crowds were
clamouring loudly for the truth. Was it the truth, or was it only a
hoax? Half London disbelieved it. Yet from every quarter, from the north
and from across the bridges, thousands were pouring in to ascertain what
had really occurred, and the police had the greatest difficulty in
keeping order.

In Trafalgar Square, where the fountains were plashing so calmly in the
autumn sunlight, a shock-headed man mounted the back of one of the lions
and harangued the crowd with much gesticulation, denouncing the
Government in the most violent terms; but the orator was ruthlessly
pulled down by the police in the midst of his fierce attack.

It was half-past two o'clock in the afternoon. The Germans had already
been on English soil ten hours, yet London was in ignorance of where
they had actually landed, and utterly helpless.




CHAPTER II.

EFFECT IN THE CITY.


Monday, 3rd September, 1910, was indeed Black Monday for London.

By midnight on Sunday the appalling news had spread everywhere. Though
the full details of the terrible naval disasters were not yet to hand,
yet it was vaguely known that our ships had been defeated in the North
Sea, and many of them sunk.

Before 7 a.m. on Monday, however, telegrams reaching London by the
subterranean lines from the north gave thrilling stories of frightful
disasters we had, while all unconscious, suffered at the hands of the
German fleet.

With London, the great cities of the north, Liverpool, Manchester,
Sheffield, and Birmingham, awoke utterly dazed. It seemed incredible.
And yet the enemy had, by his sudden and stealthy blow, secured command
of the sea and actually landed.

The public wondered why a formal declaration of war had not previously
been made, ignorant of the fact that the declaration preceding the
Franco-German War was the first made by any civilised nation prior to
the commencement of hostilities for one hundred and seventy years. The
peril of the nation was now recognised on every hand.

Eager millions poured into the City by every train from the suburbs and
towns in the vicinity of the Metropolis, anxious to ascertain the truth
for themselves, pale with terror, wild with excitement, indignant that
our land forces were not already mobilised and ready to move eastward to
meet the invader.

As soon as the banks were opened there was a run on them, but by noon
the Bank of England had suspended all specie payments. The other banks,
being thus unable to meet their engagements, simply closed the doors,
bringing business to an abrupt standstill. Consols stood at 90 on
Saturday, but by noon on Monday were down to 42--lower even than they
were in 1798, when they stood at 47-1/4. Numbers of foreigners tried to
speculate heavily, but were unable to do so, for banking being suspended
they could not obtain transfers.

On the Stock Exchange the panic in the afternoon was indescribable.
Securities of every sort went entirely to pieces, and there were no
buyers. Financiers were surprised that no warning in London had betrayed
the position of affairs, London being the money centre of the world.
Prior to 1870 Paris shared with London the honour of being the pivot of
the money market, but on the suspension of cash payments by the Bank of
France during the Franco-German War, Paris lost that position. Had it
not been that the milliards comprising the French War indemnity were
intact in golden louis in the fortress of Spandau, Germany could never
have hoped to wage sudden war with Great Britain before she had made
Berlin independent of London in a money sense, or, at any rate, to
accumulate sufficient gold to carry on the war for at least twelve
months. The only way in which she could have done this was to raise her
rate so as to offer better terms than London. Yet directly the Bank of
England discovered the rate of exchange going against her, and her stock
of gold diminishing, she would have responded by raising the English
bank-rate in order to check the flow. Thus competition would have gone
on until the rates became so high that all business would be checked,
and people would have realised their securities to obtain the necessary
money to carry on their affairs. Thus, no doubt, the coming war would
have been forecasted had it not been for Germany's already prepared
war-chest, which the majority of persons have nowadays overlooked. Its
possession had enabled Germany to strike her sudden blow, and now the
Bank of England, which is the final reserve of gold in the United
Kingdom, found that as notes were cashed so the stock of gold diminished
until it was in a few hours compelled to obtain from the Government
suspension of the Bank charter. This enabled the Bank to suspend cash
payment, and issue notes without a corresponding deposit of the
equivalent in gold.

The suspension, contrary to increasing the panic, had, curiously enough
the immediate effect of somewhat allaying it. Plenty of people in the
City were confident that the blow aimed could not prove an effective
one, and that the Germans, however many might have landed, would quickly
be sent back again. Thus many level-headed business men regarded the
position calmly, believing that when our command of the sea was again
re-established, as it must be in a day or two, the enemy would soon be
non-existent.

Business outside the money market was, of course, utterly demoralised.
The buying of necessities was now uppermost in everyone's mind. Excited
crowds in the streets caused most of the shops in the City and West End
to close, while around the Admiralty were great crowds of eager men and
women of all classes, tearful wives of bluejackets jostling with
officers' ladies from Mayfair and Belgravia, demanding news of their
loved ones--inquiries which, alas! the casualty office were unable to
satisfy. The scene of grief, terror, and suspense was heartrending.
Certain ships were known to have been sunk with all on board after
making a gallant fight, and those who had husbands, brothers, lovers, or
fathers on board wept loudly, calling upon the Government to avenge the
ruthless murder of their loved ones.

In Manchester, in Liverpool, indeed, all through the great manufacturing
centres of the north, the excitement of London was reflected.

In Manchester there was a panic "on 'Change," and the crowd in Deansgate
coming into collision with a force of mounted police, some rioting
occurred, and a number of shop windows broken, while several agitators
who attempted to speak in front of the infirmary were at once arrested.

Liverpool was the scene of intense anxiety and excitement, when a report
was spread that German cruisers were about the estuary of the Mersey. It
was known that the coal staithes, cranes, and petroleum tanks at
Penarth, Cardiff, Barry, and Llanelly had been destroyed; that Aberdeen
had been bombarded; and there were rumours that, notwithstanding the
mines and defences of the Mersey, the city of Liverpool, with all its
crowd of valuable shipping, was to share the same fate.

The whole place was in a ferment. By eleven o'clock the stations were
crowded by women and children sent by the men away into the
country--anywhere from the doomed and defenceless city. The Lord Mayor
vainly endeavoured to inspire confidence, but telegrams from London,
announcing the complete financial collapse, only increased the panic.

In London all through the morning, amid the chaos of business in the
City, the excitement had been steadily growing, until shortly after
three o'clock the "Daily Mail" issued a special edition containing a
copy of a German proclamation which, it was said, was now posted
everywhere in East Norfolk, East Suffolk, and in Maldon in Essex,
already occupied by the enemy.

The original proclamation had been found pasted by some unknown hand
upon a barn door near the town of Billericay, and had been detached and
brought to London in a motor-car by a correspondent.

It showed plainly the German intention was to deal a hard and crushing
blow, and it struck terror into the heart of London, for it read as will
be seen on next page.

Upon the walls of the Mansion House, the Guildhall, outside the Bank of
England, the Royal Exchange, upon the various public buildings within
the city wards, and westward beyond Temple Bar, proclamations were being
posted. Indeed, upon all the hoardings in Greater London appeared
various broadsheets side by side. One by the Chief Commissioner of
Police, regulating the traffic in the streets, and appealing to the
public to assist in the preservation of order; and a Royal Proclamation,
brief but noble, urging every Briton to do his duty, to take his part in
the defence of King and country, and to unfurl the banner of the British
Empire that had hitherto carried peace and civilisation in every quarter
of the world. Germany, whose independence had been respected, had
attacked us without provocation; therefore hostilities were, alas,
inevitable.

When the great poster printed in big capitals and headed by the Royal
Arms made its appearance it was greeted with wild cheering.

It was a message of love from King to people--a message to the highest
and to the lowest. Posted in Whitechapel at the same hour as in
Whitehall, the throngs crowded eagerly about it and sang "God Save our
Gracious King," for if they had but little confidence in the War Office
and Admiralty, they placed their trust in their Sovereign, the first
diplomat in Europe. Therefore the loyalty was spontaneous, as it always
is. They read the royal message, and cheered and cheered again.

As evening closed in yet another poster made its appearance in every
city, town, and village in the country, a poster issued by military and
police officers, and naval officers in charge of dockyards--the order
for mobilisation.


    PROCLAMATION.

    WE, GENERAL COMMANDING THE 3rd GERMAN ARMY,

    HAVING SEEN the proclamation of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor
    William, King of Prussia, Chief of the Army, which authorises
    the generals commanding the different German Army Corps to
    establish special measures against all municipalities and
    persons acting in contradiction to the usages of war, and to
    take what steps they consider necessary for the well-being of
    the troops.

    HEREBY GIVE PUBLIC NOTICE:

    (1) THE MILITARY JURISDICTION is hereby established. It applies
    to all territory of Great Britain occupied by the German Army,
    and to every action endangering the security of the troops by
    rendering assistance to the enemy. The Military Jurisdiction
    will be announced and placed vigorously in force in every parish
    by the issue of this present proclamation.

    (2) ANY PERSON OR PERSONS NOT BEING BRITISH SOLDIERS, or not
    showing by their dress that they are soldiers:

    (a) SERVING THE ENEMY as spies;

    (b) MISLEADING THE GERMAN TROOPS when charged to serve as
    guides;

    (c) SHOOTING, INJURING, OR ROBBING any person belonging to the
    German Army, or forming part of its personnel;

    (d) DESTROYING BRIDGES OR CANALS, damaging telegraphs,
    telephones, electric light wires, gasometers, or railways,
    interfering with roads, setting fire to munitions of war,
    provisions, or quarters established by German troops;

    (e) TAKING ARMS against the German troops,

    =WILL BE PUNISHED BY DEATH.=

    IN EACH CASE the officer presiding at the Council of War will be
    charged with the trial, and pronounce judgment. Councils of War
    may not pronounce ANY OTHER CONDEMNATION SAVE THAT OF DEATH.

    THE JUDGMENT WILL BE IMMEDIATELY EXECUTED.

    (3) TOWNS OR VILLAGES in the territory in which the
    contravention takes place will be compelled to pay indemnity
    equal to one year's revenue.

    (4) THE INHABITANTS MUST FURNISH necessaries for the German
    troops daily as follows:--

    1 lb. 10 oz. bread.
    13 oz. meat.
    3 lb. potatoes.
    1 oz. tea.
    1-1/2 oz. tobacco or 5 cigars.
    1/2 pint wine.
    1-1/2 pints beer, or 1 wine-glassful of brandy or whisky.

    The ration for each horse:--

    13 lb. oats.
    3 lb. 6 oz. hay.
    3 lb. 6 oz. straw.

    (ALL PERSONS WHO PREFER to pay an indemnity in money may do so
    at the rate of 2s. per day per man.)

    (5) COMMANDERS OF DETACHED corps have the right to requisition
    all that they consider necessary for the well-being of their
    men, and will deliver to the inhabitants official receipts for
    goods so supplied.

    WE HOPE IN CONSEQUENCE that the inhabitants of Great Britain
    will make no difficulty in furnishing all that may be considered
    necessary.

    (6) AS REGARDS the individual transactions between the troops
    and the inhabitants, we give notice that one German mark shall
    be considered the equivalent to one English shilling.

    =The General Commanding the Ninth German Army Corps,
    VON KRONHELM.=

    Beccles, _September the Third, 1910_.

    [Illustration: THE ENEMY'S FAMOUS PROCLAMATION.]


The public, however, little dreamed of the hopeless confusion in the War
Office, in the various regimental depots throughout the country, at
headquarters everywhere, and in every barracks in the kingdom. The armed
forces of England were passing from a peace to a war footing; but the
mobilisation of the various units--namely, its completion in men,
horses, and material--was utterly impossible in the face of the
extraordinary regulations which, kept a strict secret by the Council of
Defence until this moment, revealed a hopeless state of things.

The disorder was frightful. Not a regiment was found fully equipped and
ready to march. There was a dearth of officers, equipment, horses,
provisions--of, indeed, everything. Men had guns without ammunition;
cavalry and artillery were without horses; engineers only half equipped;
volunteers with no transport whatever; balloon sections without
balloons, and searchlight units vainly trying to obtain the necessary
instruments.

Horses were being requisitioned everywhere. The few horses that, in the
age of motor-cars, now remained on the roads in London were quickly
taken for draught, and all horses fit to ride were commandeered for the
cavalry.

During the turmoil daring German spies were actively at work south of
London. The Southampton line of the London and South-Western Railway was
destroyed--with explosives placed by unknown hands--by the bridge over
the Wey, near Weybridge, being blown up; and again that over the Mole,
between Walton and Esher, while the Reading line was cut by the great
bridge over the Thames at Staines being destroyed. The line, too,
between Guildford and Waterloo, was also rendered impassable by the
wreck of the midnight train, which was blown up half-way between
Wansborough and Guildford, while in several other places nearer London
bridges were rendered unstable by dynamite, the favourite method
apparently being to blow the crown out of an arch.

The well-laid plans of the enemy were thus quickly revealed. Among the
thousands of Germans working in London, the hundred or so spies, all
trusted soldiers, had passed unnoticed but, working in unison, each
little group of two or three had been allotted its task, and had
previously thoroughly reconnoitred the position and studied the most
rapid or effective means.

The railways to the east and north-east coasts all reported wholesale
damage done on Sunday night by the advance agents of the enemy, and now
this was continued on the night of Monday in the south, the objective
being to hinder troops from moving north from Aldershot. This was,
indeed, effectual, for only by a long _detour_ could the troops be moved
to the northern defences of London, and while many were on Tuesday
entrained, others were conveyed to London by the motor omnibuses sent
down for that purpose.

Everywhere through London and its vicinity, as well as Manchester,
Birmingham, Sheffield, Coventry, Leeds, and Liverpool, motor-cars and
motor-omnibuses from dealers and private owners were being requisitioned
by the military authorities, for they would, it was believed, replace
cavalry to a very large extent.

Wild and extraordinary reports were circulated regarding the disasters
in the north. Hull, Newcastle, Gateshead, and Tynemouth had, it was
believed, been bombarded and sacked. The shipping in the Tyne was
burning, and the Elswick works were held by the enemy. Details were,
however, very vague, as the Germans were taking every precaution to
prevent information reaching London.




CHAPTER III.

NEWS OF THE ENEMY.


Terror and excitement reigned everywhere. The wildest rumours were
hourly afloat. London was a seething stream of breathless multitudes of
every class.

On Monday morning the newspapers throughout the kingdom had devoted
greater part of their space to the extraordinary intelligence from
Norfolk and Suffolk, and Essex, and other places. Only the slow,
old-fashioned "Globe" remained asleep, or pretended to know nothing of
what was in progress.

That we were actually invaded was plain, but most of the newspapers
happily preserved a calm, dignified tone, and made no attempt at
sensationalism. The situation was far too serious.

Like the public, however, the Press had been taken entirely by surprise.
The blow had been so sudden and so staggering that half the alarming
reports were discredited.

In addition to the details of the enemy's operations, as far as could as
yet be ascertained, the "Morning Post" on Monday contained an account of
a mysterious occurrence at Chatham, which read as follows:

    "CHATHAM, _Sept. 1_ (11.30 P.M.).

"An extraordinary accident took place on the Medway about eight o'clock
this evening. The steamer 'Pole Star,' 1,200 tons register, with a cargo
of cement from Frindsbury, was leaving for Hamburg, and came into
collision with the 'Frauenlob,' of Bremen, a somewhat larger boat, which
was inward bound, in a narrow part of the channel about half-way between
Chatham and Sheerness. Various accounts of the mishap are current, but
whichever of the vessels was responsible for the bad steering or neglect
of the ordinary rules of the road, it is certain that the 'Frauenlob'
was cut into by the stem of the 'Pole Star' on her port bow, and sank
almost across the channel. The 'Pole Star' swung alongside her after the
collision, and very soon afterwards sank in an almost parallel position.
Tugs and steamboats carrying a number of naval officers and the port
authorities are about to proceed to the scene of the accident, and if,
as seems probable, there is no chance of raising the vessels, steps will
be at once taken to blow them up. In the present state of our foreign
relations such an obstruction directly across the entrance to one of our
principal war-ports is a national danger, and will not be allowed to
remain a moment longer than can be helped."

    "_Sept. 2._

"An extraordinary _denouement_ has followed the collision in the Medway
reported in my telegram of last night, which renders it impossible to
draw any other conclusion than that the affair is anything but an
accident. Everything now goes to prove that the whole business was
premeditated and was the result of an organised plot with the object of
'bottling up' the numerous men-of-war that are now being hurriedly
equipped for service in Chatham Dockyard. In the words of Scripture, 'An
enemy hath done this,' and there can be very little doubt as to the
quarter from which the outrage was engineered. It is nothing less than
an outrage to perpetrate what is in reality an overt act of hostility in
a time of profound peace, however much the political horizon may be
darkened by lowering war-clouds. We are living under a Government whose
leader lost no time in announcing that no fear of being sneered at as a
'Little Englander' would deter him from seeking peace and ensuring it by
a reduction of our naval and military armaments, even at that time known
to be inadequate to the demands likely to be made upon them if our
Empire is to be maintained. We trust, however, that even this
parochially-minded statesman will lose no time in probing the conspiracy
to its depths, and in seeking instant satisfaction from those
personages, however highly placed and powerful, who have committed this
outrage on the laws of civilisation.

"As soon as the news of the collision reached the dockyard the senior
officer at Kethole Reach was ordered by wire to take steps to prevent
any vessel from going up the river, and he at once despatched several
picket-boats to the entrance to warn in-coming ships of the blocking of
the channel, while a couple of other boats were sent up to within a
short distance of the obstruction to make assurance doubly sure. The
harbour signals ordering 'suspension of all movings' were also hoisted
at Garrison Point.

"Among other ships which were stopped in consequence of these measures
was the 'Van Gysen,' a big steamer hailing from Rotterdam, laden, it was
stated, with steel rails for the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway,
which were to be landed at Port Victoria. She was accordingly allowed to
proceed, and anchored, or appeared to anchor, just off the railway pier
at that place. Ten minutes later the officer of the watch on board
H.M.S. 'Medici' reported that he thought she was getting under way
again. It was then pretty dark. An electric searchlight being switched
on, the 'Van Gysen' was discovered steaming up the river at a
considerable speed. The 'Medici' flashed the news to the flagship, which
at once fired a gun, hoisted the recall and the 'Van Gysen's' number in
the international code, and despatched her steam pinnace, with orders to
overhaul the Dutchman and stop him at whatever cost. A number of the
marines on guard were sent in her with their rifles.

"The 'Van Gysen' seemed well acquainted with the channel, and
continually increased her speed as she went up the river, so that she
was within half a mile of the scene of the accident before the steamboat
came up with her. The officer in charge called to the skipper through
the megaphone to stop his engines and to throw him a rope, as he wanted
to come on board. After pretending for some time not to understand him,
the skipper slowed his engines and said, 'Ver vel, come 'longside
gangway.' As the pinnace hooked on at the gangway, a heavy iron cylinder
cover was dropped into her from the height of the 'Van Gysen's' deck. It
knocked the bowman overboard and crashed into the fore part of the boat,
knocking a big hole in the port side forward. She swung off at an angle
and stopped to pick up the man overboard. Her crew succeeded in rescuing
him, but she was making water fast, and there was nothing for it but to
run her into the bank. The lieutenant in charge ordered a rifle to be
fired at the 'Van Gysen' to bring her to, but she paid not the smallest
attention, as might have been expected, and went on her way with
gathering speed.

"The report, however, served to attract the attention of the two
picket-boats which were patrolling up the river. As she turned a bend in
the stream they both shot up alongside out of the darkness, and ordered
her peremptorily to stop. But the only answer they received was the
sudden extinction of all lights in the steamer. They kept alongside, or
rather one of them did, but they were quite helpless to stay the
progress of the big wall-sided steamer. The faster of the picket-boats
shot ahead with the object of warning those who were busy examining the
wrecks. But the 'Van Gysen,' going all she knew, was close behind, an
indistinguishable black blur in the darkness, and hardly had the officer
in the picket-boat delivered his warning before she was heard close at
hand. Within a couple of hundred yards of the two wrecks she slowed
down, for fear of running right over them. On she came, inevitable as
Fate. There was a crash as she came into collision with the central
deckhouses of the 'Frauenlob' and as her bows scraped past the funnel of
the 'Pole Star.' Then followed no fewer than half a dozen muffled
reports. Her engines went astern for a moment, and down she settled
athwart the other two steamers, heeling over to port as she did so. All
was turmoil and confusion. None of the dockyard and naval craft present
were equipped with searchlights. The harbour-master, the captain of the
yard, even the admiral superintendent, who had just come down in his
steam launch, all bawled out orders.

"Lights were flashed and lanterns swung up and down in the vain
endeavour to see more of what had happened. Two simultaneous shouts of
'Man overboard!' came from tugs and boats at opposite sides of the
river. When a certain amount of order was restored it was discovered
that a big dockyard tug was settling down by the head. It seems she had
been grazed by the 'Van Gysen' as she came over the obstruction, and
forced against some portion of one of the foundered vessels, which had
pierced a hole in her below the water-line.

"In the general excitement the damage had not been discovered, and now
she was sinking fast. Hawsers were made fast to her with the utmost
expedition possible in order to tow her clear of the piled-up wreckage,
but it was too late. There was only just time to rescue her crew before
she too added herself to the underwater barricade. As for the crew of
the 'Van Gysen,' it is thought that all must have gone down in her, as
no trace of them has as yet been discovered, despite a most diligent
search, for it was considered that, in an affair which had been so
carefully planned as this certainly must have been, some provision must
surely have been made for the escape of the crew. Those who have been
down at the scene of the disaster report that it will be impossible to
clear the channel in less than a week or ten days, using every resource
of the dockyard.

"A little later I thought I would go down to the dockyard on the
off-chance of picking up any further information. The Metropolitan
policeman at the gate would on no account allow me to pass at that hour,
and I was just turning away when, by a great piece of good fortune, I
ran up against Commander Shelley.

"I was on board his ship as correspondent during the manoeuvres of the
year before last. 'And what are you doing down here?' was his very
natural inquiry after we had shaken hands. I told him that I had been
down in Chatham for a week past as special correspondent, reporting on
the half-hearted preparations being made for the possible mobilisation,
and took the opportunity of asking him if he could give me any further
information about the collision between the three steamers in the
Medway. 'Well,' said he, 'the best thing you can do is to come right
along with me. I have just been hawked out of bed to superintend the
diving operations, which will begin the moment there is a gleam of
daylight.' Needless to say, this just suited me, and I hastened to thank
him and to accept his kind offer. 'All right,' he said, 'but I shall
have to make one small condition.'

"'And that is?' I queried.

"'Merely to let me "censor" your telegrams before you send them,' he
returned. 'You see, the Admiralty might not like to have too much said
about this business, and I don't want to find myself in the dirt-tub.'

"The stipulation was a most reasonable one, and however I disliked the
notion of having probably my best paragraphs eliminated, I could not but
assent to my friend's proposition. So away we marched down the echoing
spaces of the almost deserted dockyard till we arrived at the
'Thunderbolt' pontoon. Here lay a pinnace with steam up, and lighted
down the sloping side of the old ironclad by the lantern of the
policeman on duty, we stepped on board and shot out into the centre of
the stream. We blew our whistles and the coxswain waved a lantern,
whereupon a small tug that had a couple of dockyard lighters attached
gave a hoarse 'toot' in response, and followed us down the river. We
sped along in the darkness against a strong tide that was making
upstream, past Upnor Castle, that quaint old Tudor fortress with its
long line of modern powder magazines, and along under the deeper shadows
beneath Hoo Woods till we came abreast of the medley of mud flats and
grass-grown islets just beyond them. Here above the thud of the engines
and the plash of the water, a thin, long-drawn-out cry wavered through
the night. 'Some one hailing the boat, sir,' reported the lookout
forward. We had all heard it. 'Ease down,' ordered Shelley, and hardly
moving against the rushing tideway we listened for its repetition.
Again the voice was raised in quavering supplication. 'What the dickens
does he say?' queried the commander. 'It's German,' I answered. 'I know
that language well. I think he's asking for help. May I answer him?'

"'By all means. Perhaps he belongs to one of those steamers.' The same
thought was in my own mind. I hailed in return, asking where he was and
what he wanted. The answer came back that he was a shipwrecked seaman,
who was cold, wet, and miserable, and implored to be taken off from the
islet where he found himself, cut off from everywhere by water and
darkness. We ran the boat's nose into the bank, and presently succeeded
in hauling aboard a miserable object, wet through, and plastered from
head to foot with black Medway mud. The broken remains of a cork
life-belt hung from his shoulders. A dram of whisky somewhat revived
him. 'And now,' said Shelley, 'you'd better cross-examine him. We may
get something out of the fellow.' The foreigner, crouched down shivering
in the stern-sheets half covered with a yellow oilskin that some
charitable bluejacket had thrown over him, appeared to me in the light
of the lantern that stood on the deck before him to be not only
suffering from cold, but from terror. A few moments' conversation with
him confirmed my suspicions. I turned to Shelley and exclaimed, 'He says
he'll tell us everything if we spare his life,' I explained. 'I'm sure I
don't want to shoot the chap,' replied the commander. 'I suppose he's
implicated in this "bottling up" affair. If he is, he jolly well
deserves it, but I don't suppose anything will be done to him. Anyway,
his information may be valuable, and so you may tell him that he is all
right as far as I'm concerned, and I will do my best for him with the
Admiral. I daresay that will satisfy him. If not, you might threaten him
a bit. Tell him anything you like if you think it will make him speak.'
To cut a long story short, I found the damp Dutchman amenable to reason,
and the following is the substance of what I elicited from him.

"He had been a deck hand on board the 'Van Gysen.' When she left
Rotterdam he did not know that the trip was anything out of the way.
There was a new skipper whom he had not seen before, and there were also
two new mates with a new chief engineer. Another steamer followed them
all the way till they arrived at the Nore. On the way over he and
several other seamen were sent for by the captain, and asked if they
would volunteer for a dangerous job, promising them L50 a-piece if it
came off all right. He and five others agreed, as did two or three
stokers, and were then ordered to remain aft and not communicate with
any others of the crew. Off the Nore all the remainder were transferred
to the following steamer, which steamed off to the eastward. After they
were gone the selected men were told that the officers all belonged to
the Imperial German Navy, and by orders of the Kaiser were about to
attempt to block up the Medway.

"A collision between two other ships had been arranged for, one of which
was loaded with a mass of old steel rails into which liquid cement had
been run, so that her hold contained a solid impenetrable block. The
'Van Gysen' carried a similar cargo, and was provided with an
arrangement for blowing holes in her bottom. The crew were provided with
life-belts, and the half of the money promised, and all except the
captain, the engineer, and the two mates dropped overboard just before
arriving at the sunken vessels. They were advised to make their way to
Gravesend, and then to shift for themselves as best they could. He had
found himself on a small island, and could not muster up courage to
plunge into the cold water again in the darkness.

"'By Jove! This means war with Germany, man!--War!' was Shelley's
comment. At two o'clock this afternoon we knew that it did, for the news
of the enemy's landing in Norfolk was signalled down from the dockyard.
We also knew from the divers that the cargo of the sunken steamers was
what the rescued seamen had stated it to be. Our bottle has been fairly
well corked."

This amazing revelation showed how cleverly contrived was the German
plan of hostilities. All our splendid ships at Chatham had, in that
brief half-hour, been bottled up and rendered utterly useless. Yet the
authorities were not blameless in the matter, for in November, 1905, a
foreign warship actually came up the Medway in broad daylight, and was
not noticed until she began to bang away her salutes, much to the utter
consternation of every one.

This incident, however, was but one of the many illustrations of
German's craft and cunning. The whole scheme had been years in careful
preparation.

She intended to invade us, and regarded every stratagem as allowable in
her sudden dash upon England, an expedition which promised to result in
the most desperate war of modern times.

At that moment the "Globe," at last aroused from its long and peaceful
sleep, reproduced those plain, prophetic words of Lord Overstone,
written some years before to the Royal Defence Commission: "Negligence
alone can bring about the calamity under discussion. Unless we suffer
ourselves to be surprised we cannot be invaded with success. It is
useless to discuss what will occur or what can be done after London has
fallen into the hands of an invading foe. The apathy which may render
the occurrence of such a catastrophe possible will not afterwards enable
the country, enfeebled, dispirited, and disorganised by the loss of its
capital, to redeem the fatal error."

Was that prophecy to be fulfilled?

Some highly interesting information was given by the Ipswich
correspondent of the Central News.

Repeated briefly, it was as follows:--

"Shortly before three o'clock on Sunday morning the coastguard at
Lowestoft, Corton, and Beach End discovered that their telephonic
communication was interrupted, and half an hour later, to the surprise
of every one a miscellaneous collection of mysterious craft were seen
approaching the harbour: and within an hour many of them were high and
dry on the beach, while others were lashed alongside the old dock, the
new fish-docks of the Great Eastern Railway, and the wharves,
disembarking a huge force of German infantry, cavalry, motor-infantry,
and artillery. The town, awakened from its slumbers, was utterly
paralysed, the more so when it was discovered that the railway to London
was already interrupted, and the telegraph lines all cut. On landing,
the enemy commandeered all provisions, including all motor-cars they
could discover, horses and forage, while the banks were seized, and the
infantry, falling in marched up Old Nelson Street into High Street, and
out upon the Beccles Road. The first care of the invaders was to prevent
the people of Lowestoft damaging the Swing Bridge, a strong guard being
instantly mounted upon it, and so quietly and orderly was the landing
effected that it was plain the German plans of invasion were absolutely
perfect in every detail.

"Few hitches seemed to occur. The mayor was summoned at six o'clock by
General von Kronhelm, the generalissimo of the German Army, and briefly
informed that the town of Lowestoft was occupied, and that all armed
resistance would be punished by death. Then, ten minutes later, when the
German war-flag was flying from several flagstaffs in various parts of
the town, the people realised their utter helplessness.

"The Germans, of course, knew that, irrespective of the weather, a
landing could be effected at Lowestoft, where the fish-docks and
wharves, with their many cranes, were capable of dealing with a large
amount of stores. The Denes, that flat, sandy plain between the upper
town and the sea, they turned into a camping-ground, and large numbers
were billeted in various quarters of the town itself.

"The people were terror-stricken. To appeal to London for help was
impossible, as the place had been cut entirely off, and around it a
strong chain of outposts had already been thrown, preventing any one
from escaping. The town had, in a moment, as it seemed, fallen at the
mercy of the foreigners. Even the important-looking police constables of
Lowestoft, with their little canes, were crestfallen, sullen, and
inactive.

"While the landing was continuing during all Sunday the advance guard
moved rapidly over Mutford Bridge, along the Beccles Road, occupying a
strong position on the west side of the high ground east of Lowestoft.
Beccles, where von Kronhelm established his headquarters, resting as it
does on the River Waveney, is strongly held. The enemy's main position
appears to run from Windle Hill, one mile north-east of Gillingham,
thence north-west through Bull's Green, Herringfleet Hill, over to Grove
Farm and Hill House to Raveningham, whence it turns easterly to
Haddiscoe, which is at present its northern limit. The total front from
Beccles Bridge north is about five miles, and commands the whole of the
flat plain west towards Norwich. It has its south flank resting on the
River Waveney, and to the north on Thorpe Marshes. The chief artillery
position is at Toft Monks--the highest point. Upon the high tower of
Beccles Church is established a signal station, communication being made
constantly with Lowestoft by helio by day, and acetylene lamps by night.

"The enemy's position has been most carefully chosen, for it is
naturally strong, and, being well held to protect Lowestoft from any
attack from the west, the landing can continue uninterruptedly, for
Lowestoft beach and docks are now entirely out of the line of any
British fire.


    PROCLAMATION.

    CITIZENS OF LONDON.

    THE NEWS OF THE BOMBARDMENT of the City of Newcastle and the
    landing of the German Army at Hull, Weybourne, Yarmouth, and
    other places along the East Coast is unfortunately confirmed.

    THE ENEMY'S INTENTION is to march upon the City of London, which
    must be resolutely defended.

    THE BRITISH NATION and the Citizens of London, in face of these
    great events, must be energetic in order to vanquish the
    invader.

    The ADVANCE must be CHALLENGED FOOT BY FOOT. The people must
    fight for King and Country.

    Great Britain is not yet dead, for indeed, the more serious her
    danger, the stronger will be her unanimous patriotism.

    =GOD SAVE THE KING.=

    HARRISON, _Lord Mayor_.

    MANSION HOUSE,
    LONDON, _September 3rd, 1910_.

    [Illustration: THE LORD MAYOR'S APPEAL TO LONDON.]

"March outposts are at Blythburgh, Wenhaston, Holton, Halesworth,
Wissett, Rumburgh, Homersfield, and Bungay, and then north to Haddiscoe,
while cavalry patrols watch by day, the line roughly being from Leiston
through Saxmundham, Framlingham, and Tannington, to Hoxne.

"The estimate, gleaned from various sources in Lowestoft and Beccles, is
that up to Monday at midday nearly a whole Army Corps, with stores,
guns, ammunition, etc., had already landed, while there are also reports
of a further landing at Yarmouth, and at a spot still farther north, but
at present there are no details.

"The enemy," he concluded, "are at present in a position of absolute
security."




CHAPTER IV.

A PROPHECY FULFILLED.


This authentic news of the position of the enemy, combined with the
vague rumours of other landings at Yarmouth, along the coast at some
unknown point north of Cromer, at King's Lynn, and other places,
produced an enormous sensation in London, while the Central News
account, circulated to all the papers in the Midlands and Lancashire,
increased the panic in the manufacturing districts.

The special edition of the "Evening Star," issued about six o'clock on
Tuesday evening, contained another remarkable story which threw some
further light upon the German movements. It was, of course, known that
practically the whole of the Norfolk and Suffolk coast was already held
by the enemy, but with the exception of the fact that the enemy's
cavalry vedettes and reconnoitring patrols were out everywhere at a
distance about twenty miles from the shore, England was entirely in the
dark as to what had occurred anywhere else but at Lowestoft. Attempts
had been made to penetrate the cavalry screen at various points, but in
vain. What was in progress was carefully kept a secret by the enemy. The
veil was, however, now lifted. The story which the "Evening Star" had
obtained exclusively, and which was eagerly read everywhere, had been
related by a man named Scotney, a lobster-fisherman, of Sheringham, in
Norfolk, who had made the following statement to the chief officer of
coastguard at Wainfleet, in Lincolnshire:

"Just before dawn on Sunday morning I was in the boat with my son Ted
off the Robin Friend, taking up the lobster pots, when we suddenly saw
about three miles off shore a mixed lot of curious-looking craft strung
out right across the horizon, and heading apparently for Cromer. There
were steamers big and little, many of them towing queer flat-bottomed
kind of boats, lighters, and barges, which, on approaching nearer, we
could distinctly see were filled to their utmost capacity with men and
horses.

"Both Ted and I stood staring at the unusual sight, wondering whatever
it meant. They came on very quickly, however--so quickly, indeed, that
we thought it best to move on. The biggest ships went along to Weybourne
Gap, where they moored in the twenty-five feet of water that runs in
close to the shore, while some smaller steamers and the flats were run
high and dry on the hard shingle. Before this I noticed that there were
quite a number of foreign warships in the offing, with several
destroyers far away in the distance both to east and west.

"From the larger steamships all sorts of boats were lowered, including
apparently many collapsible whaleboats, and into these, in a most
orderly manner, from every gangway and accommodation-ladder,
troops--Germans we afterwards discovered them to be, to our utter
astonishment--began to descend.

"These boats were at once taken charge of by steam pinnaces and cutters
and towed to the beach. When we saw this we were utterly dumbfounded.
Indeed, at first I believed it to be a dream, for ever since I was a
lad I had heard the ancient rhyme my old father was so fond of
repeating:

    "'He who would Old England win,
    Must at Weybourne Hoop begin.'

"As everybody knows, nature has provided at that lonely spot every
advantage for the landing of hostile forces, and when the Spanish Armada
was expected, and again when Napoleon threatened an invasion, the place
was constantly watched. Yet nowadays, except for the coastguard, it has
been utterly unprotected and neglected.

"The very first soldiers who landed formed up quickly, and under the
charge of an officer ran up the low hill to the coastguard station, I
suppose in order to prevent them signalling a warning. The funny thing
was, however, that the coastguards had already been held up by several
well-dressed men--spies of the Germans, I suppose. I could distinctly
see one man holding one of the guards with his back to the wall, and
threatening him with a revolver.

"Ted and I had somehow been surrounded by the crowd of odd craft which
dodged about everywhere, and the foreigners now and then shouted to me
words that unfortunately I could not understand.

"Meanwhile, from all the boats strung out along the beach, from
Sheringham right across to the Rocket House at Salthouse, swarms of
drab-coated soldiers were disembarking, the boats immediately returning
to the steamers for more. They must have been packed as tightly as
herrings in a barrel; but they all seemed to know where to go to,
because all along at various places little flags were held by men, and
each regiment appeared to march across and assemble at its own flag.

"Ted and I sat there as if we were watching a play. Suddenly we saw from
some of the ships and bigger barges horses being lowered into the water
and allowed to swim ashore. Hundreds seemed to gain the beach even as we
were looking at them. Then, after the first lot of horses had gone,
boats full of saddles followed them. It seemed as though the foreigners
were too busy to notice us, and we--not wanting to share the fate of Mr.
Gunter, the coastguard, and his mates--just sat tight and watched.

"From the steamers there continued to pour hundreds upon hundreds of
soldiers, who were towed to land, and then formed up in solid squares,
which got bigger and bigger. Horses innumerable--quite a thousand, I
should reckon--were slung overboard from some of the smaller steamers
which had been run high and dry on the beach, and as the tide had now
begun to run down, they landed only knee-deep in water. Those steamers,
it seemed to me, had big bilge keels, for as the tide ebbed they did not
heel over. They had, no doubt, been specially fitted for the purpose.
Out of some they began to hoist all sorts of things, wagons, guns,
motor-cars, large bales of fodder, clothing, ambulances with big red
crosses on them, flat-looking boats--pontoons I think they call
them--and great piles of cooking pots and pans, square boxes of stores,
or perhaps ammunition, and as soon as anything was landed it was hauled
up above high-water mark.

"In the meantime lots of men had mounted on horseback and ridden off up
the lane which leads into Weybourne village. At first half a dozen
started at a time; then, as far as I could judge, about fifty more
started. Then larger bodies went forward, but more and more horses kept
going ashore, as though their number was never-ending. They must have
been stowed mighty close, and many of the ships must have been specially
fitted up for them.

"Very soon I saw cavalry swarming up over Muckleburgh, Warborough, and
Telegraph Hills, while a good many trotted away in the direction of
Runton and Sheringham. Then, soon after they had gone--that is, in about
an hour and a half from their first arrival--the infantry began to move
off, and as far as I could see, they marched inland by every road, some
in the direction of Kelling Street and Holt, others over Weybourne Heath
towards Bodham, and still others skirting the woods over to Upper
Sheringham. Large masses of infantry marched along the Sheringham Road,
and seemed to have a lot of officers on horseback with them, while up on
Muckleburgh Hill I saw frantic signalling in progress.

"By this time they had a quantity of carts and wagons landed, and a
large number of motor-cars. The latter were soon started, and, manned by
infantry, moved swiftly in procession after the troops. The great idea
of the Germans was apparently to get the beach clear of everything as
soon as landed, for all stores, equipment, and other tackle were pushed
inland as soon as disembarked.

"The enemy kept on landing. Thousands of soldiers got ashore without any
check, and all proceeding orderly and without the slightest confusion,
as though the plans were absolutely perfect. Everybody seemed to know
exactly what to do. From where we were we could see the coastguards held
prisoners in their station, with German sentries mounted around; and as
the tide was now setting strong to the westward, Ted and I just let our
anchor off the ground and allowed ourselves to drift. It occurred to me
that perhaps I might be able give the alarm at some other coastguard
station if I could only drift away unnoticed in the busy scene now in
progress.

"That the Germans had actually landed in England now apparent; yet we
wondered what our own fleet could be doing, and pictured to ourselves
the jolly good drubbing that our cruisers would give the audacious
foreigner when they did haul in sight. It was for us, at all costs, to
give the alarm, so gradually we drifted off to the nor'-westward, in
fear every moment lest we should be noticed and fired at. At last we got
around Blakeney Point successfully, and breathed more freely; then
hoisting our sail, we headed for Hunstanton, but seeing numbers of ships
entering the Wash, and believing them to be also Germans, we put our
helm down and ran across into Wainfleet Swatchway to Gibraltar Point,
where I saw the chief officer of coastguards and told him all the
extraordinary events of that memorable morning."

The report added that the officer of coastguard in question had, three
hours before, noticed strange vessels coming up the Wash, and had
already tried to report by telegraph to his divisional inspecting
officer at Harwich, but could obtain no communication. An hour later,
however, it had become apparent that a still further landing was being
effected on the south side of the Wash, in all probability at King's
Lynn.

The fisherman Scotney's statement had been sent by special messenger
from Wainfleet on Sunday evening, but owing to the dislocation of the
railway traffic north of London, the messenger was unable to reach the
offices of the coastguard in Victoria Street, Westminster, until
Monday. The report received by the Admiralty had been treated as
confidential until corroborated, lest undue public alarm should be
caused.

It had then been given to the Press as revealing the truth of what had
actually happened.

The enemy had entered by the back door of England, and the sensation it
caused everywhere was little short of panic.

Some further very valuable information was also received by the
Intelligence Department of the War Office, revealing the military
position of the invaders who had landed at Weybourne Hoop.

The whole of the IVth German Army Corps, about 38,000 men, had been
landed at Weybourne, Sheringham, and Cromer. It consisted of the 7th and
8th Divisions complete, commanded respectively by Major-General Dickmann
and Lieutenant-General von Mirbach. The 7th Division comprised the 13th
and 14th Infantry Brigades, consisting of Prince Leopold of
Anhalt-Dessau's 1st Magdeburg Regiment, the 3rd Magdeburg Infantry
Regiment, Prince Louis Ferdinand von Preussen's 2nd Magdeburg Regiment,
and the 5th Hanover Infantry Regiment. Attached to this division were
the Magdeburg Hussars No. 10, and the Uhlan Regiment of Altmaerk No. 16.

In the 8th Division were the 15th and 16th Brigades, comprising a
Magdeburg Fusilier Regiment, an Anhalt Infantry Regiment, the 4th and
8th Thuringen Infantry, with the Magdeburg Cuirassiers, and a regiment
of Thuringen Hussars. The cavalry were commanded by Colonel Froelich,
while General von Kleppen was in supreme command of the whole corps.

Careful reconnaissance of the occupied area showed that immediately on
landing, the German position extended from the little town of Holt, on
the west, eastward, along the main Cromer road, as far as Gibbet Lane,
slightly south of Cromer, a distance of about five miles. This
constituted a naturally strong position; indeed, nature seemed to have
provided it specially to suit the necessities of a foreign invader. The
ground for miles to the south sloped gently away down to the plain,
while the rear was completely protected, so that the landing could
proceed until every detail had been completed.


    _Berlin um Eins!_       _Berlin um Eins!_

    Das Kleine Journal
    Mittags Ausgabe.

    Berlin, Montag, den 3 September 1910

    Triumph der
    Deutschen
    Waffen.

    Vernichtung der
    Englischen
    Flotte.

    Von Kronhelm Auf
    Dem Vormarsche
    Nach London.

    [Illustration: THE FIRST NEWS IN BERLIN OF THE GERMAN VICTORY.]


Artillery were massed on both flanks, namely, at Holt and on the high
ground near Felbrigg, immediately south of Cromer. This last-named
artillery was adequately supported by the detached infantry close at
hand. The whole force was covered by a strong line of outposts. Their
advanced sentries were to be found along a line starting from Thornage
village, through Hunworth, Edgefield, Barningham Green, Squallham,
Aldborough, Hanworth, to Roughton. In rear of them lay their pickets,
which were disposed in advantageous situations. The general line of
these latter were at North Street, Pondhills to Plumstead, thence over
to Matlash Hall, Aldborough Hall, and the rising ground north of
Hanworth. These, in their turn, were adequately supplemented by the
supports, which were near Hempstead Green, Baconsthorpe, North
Narningham, Bessingham, Sustead, and Melton.

In case of sudden attack, reserves were at Bodham, West Beckham, East
Beckham, and Aylmerton, but orders had been issued by Von Kleppen, who
had established his headquarters at Upper Sheringham, that the line of
resistance was to be as already indicated--namely, that having the
Holt-Cromer Road for its crest. Cuirassiers, Hussars, and some
motorists--commanded by Colonel von Dorndorf--were acting independently
some fifteen miles to the south scouring the whole country, terrifying
the villagers, commandeering all supplies, and posting Von Kronhelm's
proclamation, which has already been reproduced.

From inquiries it was shown that on the night of the invasion six men,
now known to have been advance agents of the enemy, arrived at the Ship
Inn, at Weybourne. Three of them took accommodation for the night, while
their companions slept elsewhere. At two o'clock the trio let themselves
out quietly, were joined by six other men, and just as the enemy's ships
hove in sight nine of them seized the coastguards and cut the wires,
while the other three broke into the Weybourne Stores, and, drawing
revolvers, obtained possession of the telegraph instrument to Sheringham
and Cromer until they could hand it over to the Germans.

That the Fourth German Army Corps were in a position as strong as those
who landed at Lowestoft could not be denied, and the military
authorities could not disguise from themselves the extreme gravity of
the situation.




CHAPTER V.

STATE OF SIEGE DECLARED.


That our fleet had been taken unawares was apparent. There were all
sorts of vague rumours of a sudden attack upon the North Sea Fleet at
Rosyth, and a fierce cruiser battle, in which we had been badly beaten
by Germany. It is, however, the land campaign which we have here to
record.

The authentic account of a further landing in Essex--somewhere near
Maldon--was now published. The statement had been dictated by Mr. Henry
Alexander, J.P.,--the Mayor of Maldon, who had succeeded in escaping
from the town,--to Captain Wilfred Quare, of the Intelligence Department
of the War Office. This Department had, in turn, given it to the
newspapers for publication.

It read as follows:--

"On Sunday morning, September 2, I had arranged to play a round of golf
with my friend Somers, of Beeleigh, before church. I met him at the Golf
Hut about 8.30. We played one round, and were at the last hole but three
in a second round when we both thought we heard the sound of shots fired
somewhere in the town. We couldn't make anything at all of it, and as we
had so nearly finished the round, we thought we would do so before going
to inquire about it. I was making my approach to the final hole when an
exclamation from Somers spoilt my stroke. I felt annoyed, but as I
looked around--doubtless somewhat irritably--my eyes turned in the
direction in which I now saw my friend was pointing with every
expression of astonishment in his countenance.

"'Who on earth are those fellows?' he asked. As for me, I was too
dumbfounded to reply. Galloping over the links from the direction of the
town came three men in uniform--soldiers, evidently. I had often been in
Germany, and recognised the squat pickelhaubes and general get-up of the
rapidly approaching horsemen at a glance.

"They were upon us almost as he spoke, pulling up their horses with a
great spattering up of grass and mud, quite ruining one of our best
greens. All three of them pointed big, ugly repeating pistols at us, and
the leader, a conceited-looking ass in staff uniform, required us to
'surrender' in quite a pompous manner, but in very good English.


    BY THE KING,

    PROCLAMATION FOR CALLING OUT THE ARMY RESERVE.

    EDWARD R.

    WHEREAS by the Reserve Forces Act, 1882, it is amongst other
    things enacted that in case of imminent national danger or of
    great emergency, it shall be lawful for Us, by Proclamation, the
    occasion being declared in Council and notified by the
    Proclamation, if Parliament be not then sitting, to order that
    the Army Reserve shall be called out on permanent service; and
    by any such Proclamation to order a Secretary of State from time
    to time to give, and when given, to revoke or vary such
    directions as may seem necessary or proper for calling out the
    forces or force mentioned in the Proclamation, or all or any of
    the men belonging thereto:

    AND WHEREAS Parliament is not sitting, and whereas WE have
    declared in Council and hereby notify the present state of
    Public Affairs and the extent of the demands on Our Military
    Forces for the protection of the interests of the Empire
    constitute a case of great emergency within the meaning of the
    said Act:

    NOW THEREFORE We do in pursuance of the said Act hereby order
    that Our Army Reserve be called out on permanent service, and We
    do hereby order the Right Honourable Charles Leonard Spencer
    Cotterell, one of our Principal Secretaries of State, from time
    to time to give, and when given, to revoke or vary such
    directions as may seem necessary or proper for calling out Our
    Army Reserve, or all or any of the men belonging thereto, and
    such men shall proceed to and attend at such places and at such
    times as may be respectively appointed by him to serve as part
    of Our Army until their services are no longer required.

    Given at Our Court at James', this fourth day of September, in
    the year of our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and ten, and in
    the tenth year of Our Reign.

    =GOD SAVE THE KING.=


"'Do we look so very dangerous, Herr Lieutenant?' inquired I in German.

"He dropped a little of his frills when he heard me speak in his native
language, asked which of us was the Mayor, and condescended to explain
that I was required in Maldon by the officer at present in command of
his Imperial Majesty the Kaiser's forces occupying that place.

"I looked at my captor in complete bewilderment. Could he be some fellow
trying to take a rise out of me by masquerading as a German officer? But
no, I recognised at once that he was the genuine article.

"He demanded my parole, which I made no difficulty about giving, since I
did not see any way of escape, and in any case was only too anxious to
get back to town to see how things were.

"'But you don't want my friend, do you--he lives out the other way?' I
queried.

"'I don't want him, but he will have to come all the same,' rejoined the
German. 'It isn't likely we're going to let him get away to give the
alarm in Colchester, is it?'

"Obviously it was not, and without more ado we started off at a sharp
walk, holding on to the stirrup leathers of the horsemen.

"As we entered the town there was on the bridge over the river, a small
picket of blue-coated German infantry. The whole thing was a perfect
nightmare. It was past belief.

"'How on earth did you get here?' I couldn't help asking.

"'By water,' he answered shortly, pointing down the river as he spoke,
where I was still further astonished--if it were possible after such a
morning--to see several steam pinnaces and boats flying the black and
white German ensign.

"I was conducted straight to the Moot Hall. There I found a grizzled
veteran waiting on the steps, who turned round and entered the building
as we came up. We followed him inside, and I was introduced to him. He
appeared to be a truculent old ruffian.

"'Well, Mr. Mayor,' he said, pulling viciously at his white moustache,
'do you know that I've a great mind to take you out into the street and
have you shot?'

"I was not at all inclined to be browbeated.

"'Indeed, Herr Hauptman?' I answered. 'And may I inquire in what way I
have incurred the displeasure of the Hochwohlgeboren officer?'

"'Don't trifle with me, sir. Why do you allow your miserable Volunteers
to come out and shoot my men?'

"'My Volunteers? I am afraid I don't understand what you mean,' I said.
'I'm not a Volunteer officer. Even if I were, I should have no
cognisance of anything that has happened within the last two hours, as I
have been down on the golf course. This officer will bear me out,' I
added, turning to my captor. He admitted that he had found me there.

"'But, anyway, you are the Mayor,' persisted my interrogator. 'Why did
you allow the Volunteers to come out?'

"'If you had been good enough to inform us of your visit, we might have
made better arrangements.' I answered; 'but in any case you must
understand that a mayor has little or no authority in this country. His
job is to head subscription-lists, eat a dinner or two, and make
speeches on public occasions.'

"He seemed to have some difficulty in swallowing this, but as another
officer who was there, writing at a table, and who, it appears, had
lived at some period in England, corroborated my statement, the choleric
colonel seemed to be a little mollified, and contented himself with
demanding my parole not to leave Maldon until he had reported the matter
to the General for decision. I gave it without more ado, and then asked
if he would be good enough to tell me what had happened. From what he
told me, and what I heard afterwards, it seems that the Germans must
have landed a few of their men about half an hour before I left home,
down near the Marine Lake. They had not entered the town at once, as
their object was to work round outside and occupy all entrances, to
prevent anyone getting away with the news of their presence. They had
not noticed the little lane leading to the golf course, and so I had
gone down without meeting any of them, although they had actually got a
picket just beyond the railway arch at that time. They had completed
their cordon before there was any general alarm in the town, but at the
first reliable rumour it seems that young Shand, of the Essex
Volunteers, had contrived to get together twenty or thirty of his men in
their uniforms and foolishly opened fire on a German picket down by St.
Mary's Church. They fell back, but were almost instantly reinforced by a
whole company that had just landed, and our men, rushing forward, had
been ridden into by some cavalry that came up a side street. They were
dispersed, a couple of them were killed, and several wounded, among them
poor Shand, who was hit in the right lung. They had bagged four Germans,
however, and their commanding officer was furious. It was a pity that it
happened, as it could not possibly have been of any use. But it seems
that Shand had no idea that it was more than a very small detachment
that had landed from a gun-boat that some one said they had seen down
the river. Some of the Volunteers were captured afterwards and sent off
as prisoners, and the Germans posted up a notice that all Volunteers
were forthwith to surrender either themselves or their arms and
uniforms, under pain of death. Most of them did the latter. They could
do nothing after it was found that the Germans had a perfect army
somewhere between Maldon and the sea, and were pouring troops into the
town as fast as they could.

"That very morning a Saxon rifle battalion arrived from the direction of
Mundon, and just afterwards a lot spike-helmeted gentlemen came in by
train from Wickford way. So it went on all day, until the whole town was
in a perfect uproar. The infantry were billeted in the town, but the
cavalry and guns crossed the river and canal at Heybridge, and went off
in the direction of Witham.

"Maldon is built on a hill that slopes gradually towards the east and
south, but rises somewhat abruptly on the west and north, humping up a
shoulder, as it were, to the north-west. At this corner they started to
dig entrenchments just after one o'clock, and soon officers and
orderlies were busy all round the town, plotting, measuring, and setting
up marks of one kind and another. Other troops appeared to be busy down
in Heybridge, but what they were doing I could not tell, as no one was
allowed to cross the bridge over the river.

"The German officer who had surprised me down on the golf course did
not turn out to be a bad kind of youth on further acquaintance. He was a
Captain von Hildebrandt, of the Guard Fusilier Regiment, who was
employed on the Staff, though in what capacity he did not say. Thinking
it was just as well to make the best of a bad job, I invited him to
lunch. He said he had to be off. He, however, introduced me to three
friends of his in the 101st Grenadiers, who, he suggested, should be
billeted on me. I thought the idea a fairly good one, and Von
Hildebrandt, having apparently arranged this with the billeting officer
without any difficulty, I took them home with me to lunch.

"I found my wife and family in a great state of mind, both on account of
the untoward happenings of the morning and my non-return from golf at
the expected time. They had imagined all sorts of things which might
have befallen me, but luckily seemed not to have heard of my adventure
with the choleric colonel. Our three foreigners soon made themselves
very much at home, but as they were undeniably gentlemen, they contrived
to be about as agreeable as could be expected under the circumstances.
Indeed, their presence was to a great extent a safeguard against
annoyance, as the stable and back premises were stuffed full of
soldiers, who might have been very troublesome had they not been there
to keep them in order.

"Of what was happening up in London we knew nothing. Being Sunday, all
the shops were shut; but I went out and contrived to lay in a
considerable stock of provisions one way and another, and it was just as
well I did, for I only just anticipated the Germans, who commandeered
everything in the town, and put everybody on an allowance of rations.
They paid for them with bills on the British Government, which were by
no means acceptable to the shopkeepers. However, it was 'Hobson's
choice'--that or nothing. The Germans soothed them by saying that the
British Army would be smashed in a couple of weeks, and the defrayment
of such bills would be among the conditions of peace. The troops
generally seemed to be well-behaved, and treated those inhabitants with
whom they came in contact in an unexceptionable manner. They did not see
very much of them, however, as they were kept hard at work all day with
their entrenchments and were not allowed out of their billets after
eight o'clock that evening. No one, in fact, was allowed to be about
the streets after that hour. Two or three people were shot by the
sentries as they tried to break out in one direction or the other. These
affairs produced a feeling of horror and indignation in the town, as
Englishmen, having such a long experience of peace in their own country,
have always refused to realise what war really means.

"The German fortifications went on at a rapid rate. Trenches were dug
all round the northern and western sides of the town before dark on the
first evening, and the following morning I woke up to find three huge
gun-pits yawning in my garden, which looked to the northward. During
breakfast there was a great rattling and rumbling in the street without,
and presently three big field howitzers were dragged in and planted in
the pits. There they stood, their ugly snouts pointing skyward in the
midst of the wreck of flowers and fruit.

"Afterwards I went out and found that other guns and howitzers were
being put in position all along the north side of Beeleigh Road, and
round the corner by the Old Barracks. The high tower of the disused
Church of St. Peter's, now utilised for the safe custody of Dr. Plume's
library, had been equipped as a lookout and signal station."

Such was the condition of affairs in the town of Maldon on Monday
morning.

       *       *       *       *       *

The excitement in London, and indeed all over the country, on Tuesday
night was intense. Scotney's story of the landing at Weybourne was
eagerly read everywhere.

As the sun sank blood-red into the smoke haze behind Nelson's Monument
in Trafalgar Square, it was an ominous sign to the panic-stricken crowds
that day and night were now assembled there.

The bronze lions facing the four points of the compass were now mere
mocking emblems of England's departed greatness. The mobilisation muddle
was known; for, according to the papers, hardly any troops had as yet
assembled at their places of concentration. The whole of the east of
England was helplessly in the invader's hands. From Newcastle had come
terrible reports of the bombardment. Half the city was in flames, the
Elswick works were held by the enemy, and whole streets in Newcastle,
Gateshead, Sunderland, and Tynemouth were still burning fiercely.

The Tynemouth fort had proved of little or no use against the enemy's
guns. The Germans had, it appeared, used petrol bombs with appalling
results, spreading fire, disaster, and death everywhere. The
inhabitants, compelled to fly with only the clothes they wore, had
scattered all over Northumberland and Durham, while the enemy had seized
a quantity of valuable shipping that had been in the Tyne, hoisted the
German flag, and converted the vessels to their own uses.

Many had already been sent across to Wilhelmshaven, Emden, Bremerhaven,
and other places to act as transports, while the Elswick works--which
surely ought to have been properly protected--supplied the Germans with
quantities of valuable material.

Panic and confusion were everywhere. All over the country the railway
system was utterly disorganised, business everywhere was at a complete
deadlock, for in every town and city all over the kingdom the banks were
closed.

Lombard Street, Lothbury, and other banking centres in the City had all
day on Monday been the scene of absolute panic. There, as well as at
every branch bank all over the metropolis, had occurred a wild rush to
withdraw deposits by people who foresaw disaster. Many, indeed, intended
to fly with their families away from the country.

The price of the necessities of life had risen further, and in the East
End and poorer districts of Southwark the whole population were already
in a state of semi-starvation. But worst of all, the awful truth with
which London was now face to face was that the metropolis was absolutely
defenceless.

Every hour the papers were appearing with fresh details of the invasion,
for reports were so rapidly coming in from every hand that the Press had
difficulty in dealing with them.

Hull and Goole were known to be in the hands of the invaders, and
Grimsby, where the Mayor had been unable to pay the indemnity demanded,
had been sacked. But details were not yet forthcoming.

Londoners, however, learnt late that night more authentic news from the
invaded zone, of which Beccles was the centre, and it was to the effect
that those who had landed at Lowestoft were the IXth German Army Corps,
with General von Kronhelm, the Generalissimo of the German Army. This
Army Corps, consisting of about 40,000 men, was divided into the 17th
Division, commanded by Lieutenant-General Hocker, and the 18th by
Lieutenant-General von Rauch. The cavalry was under the command of
Major-General von Heyden, and the motor-infantry under Colonel
Reichardt.


    NOTICE.

    TO ALL GERMAN SUBJECTS RESIDENT IN ENGLAND.

    WILHELM.

    To all OUR LOYAL SUBJECTS, GREETING.

    We hereby COMMAND and enjoin that all persons born within the
    German Empire, or being German subjects, whether liable to
    military service or not, shall join our arms at any headquarters
    of either of our Army Corps in England within 24 hours of the
    date of this proclamation.

    Any German subject failing to obey this our Command will be
    treated as an enemy.

    By the EMPEROR'S Command.

    Given at Beccles, Sept. 3rd, 1910.

    =VON KRONHELM=,
    Commanding the Imperial German Army in England.

    [Illustration: FACSIMILE OF A PROCLAMATION POSTED BY UNKNOWN
    HANDS ALL OVER THE COUNTRY.]


According to official information which had reached the War Office and
been given to the Press, the 17th Division was made up of the Bremen and
Hamburg Infantry Regiments, the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg's Grenadiers,
the Grand Duke's Fusiliers, the Luebeck Regiment No. 162, the
Schleswig-Holstein Regiment No. 163, while the cavalry brigade consisted
of the 17th and 18th Grand Duke of Mecklenburg's Dragoons.

The 18th Division consisted of the Schleswig Regiment No. 84 and the
Schleswig Fusiliers No. 86, the Thuringen Regiment, and the Duke of
Holstein's Regiment, the two latter regiments being billeted in
Lowestoft, while the cavalry brigade forming the screen across from
Leiston by Wilby to Castle Hill were Queen Wilhelmina's Hanover Hussars
and the Emperor of Austria's Schleswig-Holstein Hussars No. 16. These,
with the smart motor infantry, held every communication in the direction
of London.

As far as could be gathered, the German commander had established his
headquarters in Beccles, and had not moved. It now became apparent that
the telegraph cables between the East coast and Holland and Germany,
already described in the first chapter, had never been cut at all. They
had simply been held by the enemy's advance agents until the landing had
been effected. And now Von Kronhelm had actually established direct
communication between Beccles and Emden, and on to Berlin.

Reports from the North Sea spoke of the enemy's transports returning to
the German coast, escorted by cruisers; therefore the plan was
undoubtedly not to move until a very much larger force had been landed.

Could England regain her command of the sea in time to prevent the
completion of the blow?

That night the London streets presented a scene of panic indescribable.
The theatres opened, but closed their doors again, as nobody would see
plays while in that excited state. Every shop was closed, and every
railway station was filled to overflowing with the exodus of terrified
people fleeing to the country westward, or reserves on their way to join
the colours.

The incredulous manner in which the country first received the news had
now been succeeded by wild terror and despair. On that bright Sunday
afternoon they laughed at the report as a mere journalistic sensation,
but ere the sun set the hard, terrible truth was forced upon them, and
now, on Tuesday night, the whole country, from Brighton to Carlisle,
from Yarmouth to Aberystwyth, was utterly disorganised and in a state of
terrified anxiety.

The eastern counties were already beneath the iron heel of the invader,
whose objective was the world's great capital--London.

Would they reach it? That was the serious question upon every one's
tongue that fevered, breathless night.




CHAPTER VI.

HOW THE ENEMY DEALT THE BLOW.


Meanwhile, at the regimental depots feverish excitement prevailed on
Wednesday, September 5, now that every man was ordered on active
service. All officers and men who had been on leave were recalled, and
medical inspection of all ranks at once commenced. Rations and bedding,
stores and equipment were drawn, but there was a great lack of uniforms.
Unlike the German Army, where every soldier's equipment is complete even
to the last button on the proverbial gaiter, and stowed away where the
owner knows where to obtain it, our officers commanding depots commenced
indenting for clothing on the Royal Army Clothing Department and the
Army Corps Clothing Department.

A large percentage of men were, of course, found medically unfit to
serve, and were discharged to swell the mobs of hungry idlers. The plain
clothes of the reservists coming in were disposed of, no man daring to
appear in the ranks unless in uniform. Von Kronhelm's proclamation
having forbidden the tactics of the Boers of putting mere armed citizens
into the field.

Horse-collecting parties went out all over the country, taking with them
head-collars, head-ropes, bits, reins, surcingles, numnahs,
horse-blankets, and nose-bags. These scoured every county in search of
likely animals, every farm, every livery stable, every hunting-box, all
hound-kennels and private stables were visited, and a choice made. All
this, however, took time. Precious hours were thus being wasted while
the enemy were calmly completing their arrangements for the
long-contemplated blow at the heart of the British Empire.

While the War Office refused any information, special editions of the
papers during Wednesday printed sensational reports of the ruthless
completion of the impenetrable screen covering the operations of the
enemy on the whole of the East Coast.

News had, by some means, filtered through from Yarmouth that a similar
landing to those at Lowestoft and Weybourne had been effected. Protected
as such an operation was by its flanks being supported by the IVth and
IXth Army Corps landing on either side, the Xth Army Corps, under
General von Wilburg, had seized Yarmouth, with its many miles of wharves
and docks, which were now crowded by the lighters' craft of flotilla
from the Frisian Islands.

It was known that the landing had been effected simultaneously with that
at Lowestoft. The large number of cranes at the fish-docks were of
invaluable use to the enemy, for there they landed guns, animals, and
stores, while the provisions they found at the various ship's chandlers,
and in such shops as Blagg's, and the International Stores in King
Street, Peter Brown's, Doughty's, Lipton's, Penny's and Barnes's, were
at once commandeered. Great stores of flour were seized in Clarke's and
Press's mills, while the horse-provender mills in the vicinity supplied
them with valuable forage.

Beyond these few details, as far as regarded the fate of Yarmouth,
nothing further was at present known.

The British division at Colchester, which comprised all the regular
troops north of the Thames in the eastern command, was, no doubt, in a
critical position, threatened so closely north and south by the enemy.
None of the regiments--the Norfolks, the Leicestershire, and the King's
Own Scottish Borderers of the 11th Infantry Brigade--were up to their
strength. The 12th Infantry Brigade, which also belonged to the
division, possessed only skeleton regiments stationed at Hounslow and
Warley. Of the 4th Cavalry Brigade, some were at Norwich, the 21st
Lancers were at Hounslow, while only the 16th Lancers were at
Colchester. Other cavalry regiments were as far away as Canterbury,
Shorncliffe, and Brighton, and although there were three batteries of
artillery at Colchester, some were at Ipswich, others at Shorncliffe,
and others at Woolwich.

Therefore it was quite evident to the authorities in London that unless
both Colchester and Norwich were instantly strongly supported, they
would soon be simply swept out of existence by the enormous masses of
German troops now dominating the whole eastern coast, bent upon
occupying London.

Helpless though they felt themselves to be, the garrison at Colchester
did all they could. All available cavalry had been pushed out past
Ipswich, north to Wickham Market, Stowmarket, and across to Bury St.
Edmunds, only to find on Wednesday morning that they were covering the
hasty retreat of the small body of cavalry who had been stationed at
Norwich. They, gallantly led by their officers, had done everything
possible to reconnoitre and attempt to pierce the enemy's huge cavalry
screen, but in every instance entirely in vain. They had been
outnumbered by the squadrons of independent cavalry operating in front
of the Germans, and had, alas! left numbers of their gallant comrades
upon the roads, killed and wounded.

Norwich had, therefore, on Wednesday morning fallen into the hands of
the German cavalry, utterly defenceless. From the Castle the German flag
was now flying, the Britannia Barracks were being used by the enemy,
food had all been seized, the streets were in a state of chaos, and a
complete reign of terror had been created when a company of British
Infantry, having fired at some Uhlans, were ruthlessly shot down in the
street close by the Maid's Head.

In addition to this, the Mayor of Norwich was taken prisoner, lodged in
the Castle, and held as surety for the well-behaviour of the town.

Everywhere Von Kronhelm's famous proclamation was posted, and as the
invaders poured into the city the inhabitants looked on in sullen
silence, knowing that they were now under German military discipline,
the most rigorous and drastic in the whole world.

A special issue of the "Times" in the evening of the 3rd September
contained the following vivid account--the first published--of the
happenings in the town of Goole, in Yorkshire:

    "GOOLE, _September 3_.

"Shortly before five o'clock on Sunday morning the night operator of the
telephone call-office here discovered an interruption on the trunk-line,
and on trying the telegraphs was surprised to find that there was no
communication in any direction. The railway station, being rung up,
replied that their wires were also down.

"Almost immediately afterwards a well-known North Sea pilot rushed into
the post office and breathlessly asked that he might telephone to
Lloyd's. When told that all communication was cut off he wildly shouted
that a most extraordinary sight was to be seen in the River Ouse, up
which was approaching a continuous procession of tugs, towing flats, and
barges filled with German soldiers.

"This was proved to be an actual fact, and the inhabitants of Goole,
awakened from their Sunday morning slumbers by the shouts of alarm in
the streets, found, to their abject amazement, foreign soldiers swarming
everywhere. On the quay they found activity everywhere, German being
spoken on all hands. They watched a body of cavalry, consisting of the
1st Westphalian Hussars, the Westphalian Cuirassiers, land with order
and ease at the Victoria Pier, whence, after being formed up on the
quay, they advanced at a sharp trot up Victoria Street, Ouse Street, and
North Street to the railway stations, where, as is generally known,
there are large sidings of the North-East Lancashire and Yorkshire lines
in direct communication both with London and the great cities of the
north. The enemy here found great quantities of engines and rolling
stock, all of which was at once seized, together with huge stacks of
coal at the new sidings.

"Before long the first of the infantry of the 13th Division, which was
commanded by Lieutenant-General Doppschutz, marched up to the stations.
They consisted of the 13th and 56th Westphalian Regiments, and the
cavalry on being relieved advanced out of the town, crossing the Dutch
River by the railway bridge, and pushed on as far as Thorne and Hensall,
near which they at once strongly held the several important railway
junctions.

"Meanwhile cavalry of the 14th Brigade, consisting of Westphalian
Hussars and Uhlans, were rapidly disembarking at Old Goole, and,
advancing southwards over the open country of Goole Moors and Thorne
Waste, occupied Crowle. Both cavalry brigades were acting independently
of the main body, and by their vigorous action both south and west they
were entirely screening what was happening in the port of Goole.


    CITY OF NORWICH.

    =CITIZENS--=

    AS IS WELL KNOWN, a hostile army has landed upon the coast of
    Norfolk, and has already occupied Yarmouth and Lowestoft,
    establishing their headquarters at Beccles.

    IN THESE GRAVE CIRCUMSTANCES our only thought is for England,
    and our duty as citizens and officials is to remain at our post
    and bear our part in the defence of Norwich, our capital now
    threatened.

    YOUR PATRIOTISM, of which you have on so many occasions in
    recent wars given proof, will, I have no doubt, again be shown.
    By your resistance you will obtain the honour and respect of
    your enemies, and by the individual energy of each one of you
    the honour and glory of England may be saved.

    CITIZENS OF NORWICH, I appeal to you to view the catastrophe
    calmly, and bear your part bravely in the coming struggle.

    =CHARLES CARRINGTON=,
    _Mayor_.

    NORWICH, _September 4, 1910_.

    [Illustration: APPEAL ISSUED BY THE MAYOR OF NORWICH]


"Infantry continued to pour into the town from flats and barges,
arriving in endless procession. Doppschutz's Division landed at Aldan
Dock, Railway Dock, and Ship Dock; the 14th Division at the Jetty and
Basin, also in the Barge Dock and at the mouth of the Dutch River;
while some, following the cavalry brigade, landed at Old Goole and
Swinefleet.

"As far as can be ascertained, the whole of the VIIth German Army Corps
have landed, at any rate as far as the men are concerned. The troops,
who are under the supreme command of General Baron von Bistram, appear
to consist almost entirely of Westphalians, and include Prince Frederick
of the Netherlands' 2nd Westphalians; Count Bulow von Dennewitz's 6th
Westphalians; but one infantry brigade, the 79th, consisted of men from
Lorraine.

"Through the whole day the disembarkation proceeded, the townsmen
standing there helpless to lift a finger and watching the enemy's
arrival. The Victoria Pleasure Grounds were occupied by parked
artillery, which towards afternoon began to rumble through the streets.
The German gunners, with folded arms, sat unconcernedly upon the
ammunition boxes as the guns were drawn up to their positions. Horses
were seized wherever found, the proclamation of Von Kronhelm was nailed
upon the church doors, and the terrified populace read the grim threat
of the German field-marshal.

"The wagons, of which there were hundreds, were put ashore mostly at
Goole, but others up the river at Hook and Swinefleet. When the cavalry
advance was complete, as it was soon after midday, and when reports had
come in to Von Bistram that the country was clear of the British, the
German infantry advance began. By nightfall they had pushed forward,
some by road, some by rail, and others in the numerous motor-wagons that
had accompanied the force, until march-outposts were established, south
of Thorne, Askern, and Crowle, straddling the main road at Bawtry. These
places, including Fishlake and the country between them, were at once
strongly held, while ammunition and stores were pushed up by railway to
both Thorne and Askern.

"The independent cavalry advance continued through Doncaster until dusk,
when Rotherham was reached, during which advance scattered bodies of
British Imperial Yeomanry were met and compelled to retreat, a dozen or
so lives being lost. It appears that late in the afternoon of Sunday
news was brought into Sheffield of what was in progress, and a squadron
of Yeomanry donned their uniforms and rode forward to reconnoitre, with
the disastrous results already mentioned.

"The sensation caused in Sheffield when it became known that German
cavalry were so close as Rotherham was enormous, and the scenes in the
streets soon approached a panic; for it was wildly declared that that
night the enemy intended to occupy the town. The Mayor telegraphed to
the War Office, appealing for additional defensive force, but no
response was received to the telegram. The small force of military in
the town, which consisted of the 2nd Battalion Yorkshire Light Infantry,
some Royal Artillery, and the local Volunteers, were soon assembled, and
going out occupied the strong position above Sheffield between Catcliffe
and Tinsley, overlooking the valley of the Rother to the east.

"The expectation that the Germans intended an immediate descent on
Sheffield was not realised, because the German tactics were merely to
reconnoitre and report on the defences of Sheffield, if any existed.
This they did by remaining to the eastward of the river Rother, whence
the high ground rising before Sheffield could be easily observed.

"Before dusk one or two squadrons of Cuirassiers were seen to be
examining the river to find fords and ascertain the capacity of the
bridges, while others appeared to be comparing the natural features of
the ground with the maps with which they all appeared to be provided.

"As night fell, however, the cavalry retired towards Doncaster, which
town was occupied, the Angel being the cavalry headquarters. The reason
the Germans could not advance at once upon Sheffield was that the
cavalry was not strongly supported by infantry from their base, the
distance from Goole being too great to be covered in a single day. That
the arrangements for landing were in every detail perfect could not be
doubted, but owing to the narrow channel of the Ouse time was necessary,
and it is considered probable that fully three days must elapse from
Sunday before the Germans are absolutely established.

"An attempt has been made by the Yorkshire Light Infantry and the York
and Lancaster Regiment, with three battalions of Volunteers stationed at
Pontefract, to discover the enemy's strength and position between Askern
and Snaith, but so far without avail, the cavalry screen across the
whole country being impenetrable.


    GOD SAVE THE KING.

    PROCLAMATION.

    TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.

    In regard to the Decree of September 3rd of the present year,
    declaring a state of siege in the Counties of Norfolk and
    Suffolk.

    In regard to the Decree of August 10th, 1906, regulating the
    public administration of all theatres of war and military
    servitude;

    Upon the proposition of the Commander-in-Chief

    IT IS DECREED AS FOLLOWS:

    (1) There are in a state of war:

    1st. In the Eastern Command, the counties of Northamptonshire,
    Rutlandshire, Cambridgeshire, Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex,
    Huntingdonshire, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, and Middlesex
    (except that portion included in the London Military District).

    2nd. In the Northern Command, the counties of Northumberland,
    Durham, Cumberland, and Yorkshire, with the southern shore of
    the estuary of the Humber.

    (2) I, Charles Leonard Spencer Cotterell, his Majesty's
    Principal Secretary of State for War, am charged with the
    execution of this Decree.

    WAR OFFICE, WHITEHALL,
    _September the Fourth, 1910_.

    [Illustration: This Proclamation was posted outside the War
    Office in London at noon on Wednesday, and was read by
    thousands. It was also posted upon the Town Hall of every city
    and town throughout the Country.]


"The people of the West Riding, and especially the inhabitants of
Sheffield, are stupefied that they have received no assistance--not even
a reply to the Mayor's telegram. This fact has leaked out, and has
caused the greatest dissatisfaction. An enemy is upon us, yet we are in
ignorance of what step, if any, the authorities are taking for our
protection.

"There are wild rumours here that the enemy have burned Grimsby, but
these are generally discredited, for telegraphic and telephonic
communication has been cut off, and at present we are completely
isolated. It has been gathered from the invaders that the VIIIth Army
Corps of the Germans have landed and seized Hull, but at present this is
not confirmed. There is, alas! no communication with the place,
therefore, the report may possibly be true.

"Dewsbury, Huddersfield, Wakefield, and Selby are all intensely excited
over the sudden appearance of German soldiers, and were at first
inclined to unite to stem their progress. But the German proclamation,
showing the individual peril of any citizen taking arms against the
invaders, having been posted everywhere, has held every one scared and
in silent inactivity.

"'Where is our Army?' every one is asking. The whole country has run
riot in a single hour, now that the Germans are upon us. On every hand
it is asked: 'What will London do?'"

Reports now reached London that the VIIth German Army Corps had landed
at Hull and Goole, and taking possession of these towns, were moving
upon Sheffield in order to paralyse our trade in the Midlands. Hull had
been bombarded, and was in flames! Terrible scenes were taking place at
that port.

On that memorable Sunday, when a descent had been made upon our shores,
there were in German ports on the North Sea nearly a million tons gross
of German shipping. Normally, in peace time, half a million tons is
always to be found there, the second half having been quietly collected
by ships putting in unobserved into such ports as Emden, Bremen,
Bremerhaven, and Geestemunde, where there are at least ten miles of
deep-sea wharves, with ample railway access. The arrival of these
crafts caused no particular comment, but they had already been secretly
prepared for the transport of men and horses while at sea.

Under the cover of the Frisian Islands, from every canal, river, and
creek had been assembled a huge multitude of flats and barges, ready to
be towed by tugs alongside the wharves and filled with troops. Of a
sudden, in a single hour it seemed, Hamburg, Altona, Cuxhaven, and
Wilhelmshaven were in excited activity, and almost before the
inhabitants themselves realised what was really in progress, the
embarkation had well commenced.

At Emden, with its direct cable to the theatre of war in England, was
concentrated the brain of the whole movement. Beneath the lee of the
covering screen of Frisian Islands, Borkum, Juist, Norderney, Langebog,
and the others, the preparations for the descent upon England rapidly
matured.

Troop-trains from every part of the Fatherland arrived with the
punctuality of clockwork. From Duesseldorf came the VIIth Army Corps, the
VIIIth from Coblenz, the IXth were already assembled at their
headquarters at Altona, while many of them being stationed at Bremen
embarked from there; the Xth came up from Hanover, the XIVth from
Magdeburg, and the Corps of German Guards, the pride and flower of the
Kaiser's troops, arrived eagerly at Hamburg from Berlin and Potsdam,
among the first to embark.

Each army corps consisted of about 38,000 officers and men, 11,000
horses, 144 guns, and about 2,000 motor-cars, wagons, and carts. But for
this campaign--which was more of the nature of a raid than of any
protracted campaign--the supply of wheeled transport, with the exception
of motor-cars, had been somewhat reduced.

Each cavalry brigade attached to an army corps consisted of 1,400 horses
and men, with some thirty-five light machine guns and wagons. The German
calculation--which proved pretty correct--was that each army corps could
come over to England in 100,000 tons gross of shipping, bringing with
them supplies for twenty-seven days in another 3,000 tons gross.
Therefore about 618,000 tons gross conveyed the whole of the six corps,
leaving an ample margin still in German ports for any emergencies. Half
this tonnage consisted of about 100 steamers, averaging 3,000 tons
each, the remainder being the boats, flats, lighters, barges, and tugs
previously alluded to.

[Illustration: GERMANY'S POINTS OF EMBARKATION]

The Saxons who, disregarding the neutrality of Belgium, had embarked at
Antwerp, had seized the whole of the flat-bottomed craft in the Scheldt
and the numerous canals, as well as the merchant ships in the port,
finding no difficulty in commandeering the amount of tonnage necessary
to convey them to the Blackwater and the Crouch.

As hour succeeded hour the panic increased.

It was now also known that, in addition to the various corps who had
effected a landing, the German Guards had, by a sudden swoop into the
Wash, got ashore at King's Lynn, seized the town, and united their
forces with Von Kleppen's corps, who, having landed at Weybourne, were
now spread right across Norfolk. This picked corps of Guards was under
the command of that distinguished officer, the Duke of Mannheim, while
the infantry divisions were under Lieutenant-Generals von Castein and
Von Der Decken.

The landing at King's Lynn on Sunday morning had been quite a simple
affair. There was nothing whatever to repel them, and they disembarked
on the quays and in the docks, watched by the astonished populace. All
provisions were seized at shops, while headquarters were established at
the municipal buildings, and the German flag hoisted upon the old
church, the tower of which was at once used as a signal station.

Old-fashioned people of Lynn peered out of their quiet respectable
houses in King Street in utter amazement; but soon, when the German
proclamation was posted, the terrible truth was plain.

In half an hour, even before they could realise it, they had been
transferred from the protection of the British flag to the militarism of
the German.

Ere sundown on Sunday, stalwart grey-coated sentries of the Guards
Fusiliers from Potsdam, and the Grenadiers from Berlin were holding the
roads at Gayton, East Walton, Narborough, Markham, Fincham, Stradsett,
and Stow Bardolph. Therefore on Sunday night, from Spalding on the east,
Peterborough, Chatteris, Littleport, Thetford, Diss, and Halesworth,
were faced by a huge cavalry screen protecting the landing and repose of
the great German Army behind it.

Slowly but carefully the enemy were maturing their plans for the defeat
of our defenders and the sack of London.




CHAPTER VII.

DESPERATE FIGHTING IN ESSEX.


London was at a standstill. Trade was entirely stopped. Shopkeepers
feared to open their doors on account of the fierce, hungry mobs
parading the street. Orators were haranguing the crowds in almost every
open space. The police were either powerless, or feared to come into
collision with the assembled populace. Terror and blank despair were
everywhere.

There was unrest night and day. The banks, head offices, and branches,
unable to withstand the run upon them when every one demanded to be
paid in gold, had, by mutual arrangement, shut their doors, leaving
excited and furious crowds of customers outside unpaid. Financial ruin
stared every one in the face. Those who were fortunate enough to realise
their securities on Monday were fleeing from London south and westward.
Day and night the most extraordinary scenes of frantic fear were
witnessed at Paddington, Victoria, Waterloo, and London Bridge. The
southern railways were badly disorganised by the cutting of the lines by
the enemy, but the Great Western system was, up to the present, intact,
and carried thousands upon thousands to Wales, to Devonshire, and to
Cornwall.

In those three hot, breathless days the Red Hand of Ruin spread out upon
London.

The starving East met the terrified West, but in those moments the bonds
of terror united class with mass. Restaurants and theatres were closed;
there was but little vehicular traffic in the streets, for of horses
there were none, while the majority of the motor 'buses had been
requisitioned, and the transit of goods had been abandoned. "The City,"
that great army of daily workers, both male and female, was out of
employment, and swelled the idlers and gossips, whose temper and opinion
were swayed each half-hour by the papers now constantly appearing night
and day without cessation.

Cabinet Councils had been held every day, but their decisions, of
course, never leaked out to the public. The King also held Privy
Councils, and various measures were decided upon. Parliament, which had
been hurriedly summoned, was due to meet, and every one speculated as to
the political crisis that must now ensue.

In St. James's Park, in Hyde Park, in Victoria Park, on Hampstead Heath,
in Greenwich Park--in fact, in each of the "lungs of London,"--great
mass meetings were held, at which resolutions were passed condemning the
Administration and eulogising those who, at the first alarm, had so
gallantly died in defence of their country.

It was declared that by the culpable negligence of the War Office and
the National Defence Committee we had laid ourselves open to complete
ruin, both financially and as a nation.

The man-in-the-street already felt the strain, for the lack of
employment and the sudden rise in the price of everything had brought
him up short. Wives and families were crying for food, and those without
savings and with only a few pounds put by looked grimly into the future
and at the mystery it presented.

Most of the papers published the continuation of the important story of
Mr. Alexander, the Mayor of Maldon, which revealed the extent of the
enemy's operations in Essex and the strong position they occupied.

It ran as below:

"Of the events of the early hours of the morning I have no very clear
recollection. I was bewildered, staggered, dumbfounded by the sights and
sounds which beset me. Of what modern war meant I had till then truly
but a very faint idea. To witness its horrid realities enacted in this
quiet, out-of-the-way spot where I had pitched my tent for so many
years, brought them home to me literally as well as metaphorically.

"I had run down Cromwell Hill, and seeing the flames of Heybridge, was
impelled to get nearer, if possible, to discover more particularly the
state of affairs in that direction. But I was reckoning without the
Germans. When I got to the bridge over the river at the foot of the
hill, the officer in charge there absolutely prevented my crossing.
Beyond the soldiers standing or kneeling behind whatever cover was
offered by the walls and buildings abutting on the riverside, and a
couple of machine guns placed so as to command the bridge and the road
beyond, there was nothing much to see. A number of Germans were,
however, very busy in the big mill just across the river, but what they
were doing I could not make out. As I turned to retrace my step the
glare of the conflagration grew suddenly more and more intense. A mass
of dark figures came running down the brightly illuminated road towards
the bridge, while the rifle fire became louder, nearer, and heavier than
ever. Every now and again the air became alive with, as it were, the
hiss and buzz of flying insects. The English must have fought their way
through Heybridge, and these must be the bullets from their rifles. It
was dangerous to stay down there any longer, so I took to my heels. As I
ran I heard a thundering explosion behind me, the shock of which nearly
threw me to the ground. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that the
Germans had blown up the mill at the farther end of the bridge, and were
now pushing carts from either side in order to barricade it. The two
Maxims, too, began to pump lead with their hammering reports, and the
men near them commenced to fall in twos and threes. I made off to the
left, and passed into High Street by the end of St. Peter's Church, now
disused. At the corner I ran against Mr. Clydesdale, the optician, who
looks after the library which now occupies the old building. He pointed
to the tower, which stood darkly up against the blood-red sky.

"'Look at those infernal Germans!' he said. 'They can't even keep out of
that old place. I wish we could have got the books out before they
came.'

"I could not see any of our invaders where he was pointing, but
presently I became aware of a little winking, blinking light at the very
summit of the tower.

"'That's them,' said Clydesdale. 'They're making signals, I think. My
boy says he saw the same thing on Purleigh Church tower last night. I
wish it would come down with them, that I do. It's pretty shaky,
anyway.'

"The street was fairly full of people. The Germans, it is true, had
ordered that no one should be out of doors between eight in the evening
and six in the morning; but just now they appeared to have their hands
pretty full elsewhere, and if any of the few soldiers that were about
knew of or thought anything of the interdiction, they said nothing.

"The crash of a salvo of heavy guns from the direction of my own house
interrupted him.

"'That'll be the guns in my garden,' I said.

"'Yes, sir, and they've got three monstrous great ones in the opening
between the houses just behind the church there,' said Clydesdale.

"As he spoke, the guns in question bellowed out, one after the other.

"'Look--look at the tower!' I cried.

"The light at the top had disappeared and the lofty edifice was swaying
slowly, slowly, over to the left.

"'She's gone at last!' exclaimed Clydesdale.

"It was true. Down came the old steeple that had pointed heavenward for
so many generations, with a mighty crash and concussion that swallowed
up even the noise of the battle, though cannon of all sorts and sizes
were now joining in the hellish concert, and shell from the English
batteries began to roar over the town. The vibration and shock of the
heavy guns had been too much for the old tower, which, for years in a
tottery condition, had been patched up so often.

"As soon as the cloud of dust cleared off we ran towards the huge pile
of debris that filled the little churchyard. Several other people
followed. It was very dark down there, in the shadow of the trees and
houses, despite the fire-light overhead, and we began striking matches
as we looked about among the heaps of bricks and beams to see if there
were any of the German signal party among them. Why we should have taken
the trouble under the circumstances I do not quite know. It was an
instinctive movement of humanity on my part, and that of most of the
others, I suppose.

"I caught sight of an arm in a light blue sleeve protruding from the
debris, and took hold of it in a futile attempt to remove some of the
bricks and rubbish which I thought were covering the body of its owner.
To my horror, it came away in my hand. The body to which it belonged
might be buried yards away in the immense heap of ruins. I dropped it
with a cry, and fled from the spot.

"Dawn was now breaking. I do not exactly remember where I wandered to
after the fall of St. Peter's Tower, but it must have been between
half-past five and six when I found myself on the high ground at the
north-western corner of the town, overlooking the golf links, where I
had spent so many pleasant hours in that recent past that now seemed so
far away. All around me were batteries, trenches, and gun-pits. But
though the firing was still going on somewhere away to the right, where
Heybridge poured black smoke skyward like a volcano, gun and howitzer
were silent, and their attendant artillerymen, instead of being in cover
behind their earthen parapets, were clustered on the top, watching
intently something that was passing in the valley below them. So
absorbed were they that I was able to creep up behind them, and also get
a sight of what was taking place. And this is what I saw:

"Over the railway bridge which spanned the river a little to the left
were hurrying battalion after battalion of green and blue clad German
infantry. They moved down the embankment after crossing, and continued
their march behind it. Where the railway curved to the right and left,
about half a mile beyond the bridge, the top of the embankment was lined
with dark figures lying down and apparently firing, while over the golf
course from the direction of Beeleigh trotted squadron after squadron of
sky-blue riders, their green and white lance pennons fluttering in the
breeze. They crossed the Blackwater and Chelmer Canal, and cantered off
in the direction of Langford Rectory.

"At the same time I saw line after line of the Germans massed behind the
embankment spring over it and advance rapidly towards the lower portion
of the town, just across the river. Hundreds fell under the fire from
the houses, which must have been full of Englishmen, but one line after
another reached the buildings. The firing was now heavier than
ever--absolutely incessant and continuous--though, except for an
occasional discharge from beyond Heybridge, the artillery was silent.

"I have but little knowledge of military matters, but it was abundantly
evident, even to me, that what I had just seen was a very formidable
counter-attack on the part of the Germans, who had brought up fresh
troops either from the rear of the town or from farther inland, and
launched them against the English under cover of the railway embankment.
I was not able to see the end of the encounter, but bad news flies
apace, and it soon became common knowledge in the town that our troops
from Colchester had not only failed to cross the river at any point, but
had been driven helter-skelter out of the lower town near the station
and from the smoking ruins of Heybridge with great loss, and were now in
full retreat.

"Indeed, some hundreds of our khaki-clad fellow-countrymen were marched
through the town an hour or two later as prisoners, to say nothing of
the numbers of wounded, who, together with those belonging to the
Germans, soon began to crowd every available building suitable for use
as an hospital. The wounded prisoners with their escort went off towards
Mundon, and are reported to have gone in the direction of Steeple. It
was altogether a disastrous day, and our hopes, which had begun to rise
when the British had penetrated into the northern part of the town, now
fell below zero.

"It was a black day for us, and for England. During the morning the
same officer who had captured me on the golf course came whirling into
Maldon on a 24-h.p. Mercedes car. He drove straight up to my house, and
informed me that he had orders to conduct me to Prince Henry, who was to
be at Purleigh early in the afternoon.

"'Was it in connection with the skirmish with the Volunteers?' I asked.

"'I don't know,' was the reply. 'But I don't fancy so. In the meantime,
could I write here for an hour or two?' he asked politely. 'I have much
to write to my friends in Germany, and have not had a minute up to now.'

"I was very glad to be able to oblige the young man in such a small way,
and left him in my study till midday, very busy with pens, ink, and
paper.

"After a makeshift of a lunch, the car came round, and we got into the
back seat. In front sat his orderly and the chauffeur, a fierce-looking
personage in a semi-military uniform. We ran swiftly down the High
Street, and in a few minutes were spinning along the Purleigh Road,
where I saw much that amazed me. I then for the first time realised how
absolutely complete were the German plans."

    "TUESDAY, _September 4_.

"About six o'clock this morning I awoke rather suddenly. The wind had
gone round to the northward, and I was certain that heavy firing was
going on somewhere in that direction. I opened the window and looked
out. The 'thud' and rumble of a cannonade, with the accompaniment of an
occasional burst of musketry, came clearly and loudly on the wind from
the hills by Wickham Bishops village. The church spire was in plain
view, and little faint puffs and rings of grey smoke were just visible
in its vicinity every now and again, sometimes high up in the air, at
others among the trees at its base. They were exploding shells; I had no
doubt of that. What was going on it was impossible to say, but I
conjectured that some of our troops from Colchester had come into
collision with the Germans, who had gone out in that direction the day
of their arrival. The firing continued for about an hour, and then died
away.

"Soon after eight, Count von Ohrendorff, the general officer commanding
the 32nd Division, who appeared to be the supreme authority here, sent
for me, and suggested that I should take steps to arrange for the
manufacture of lint and bandages by the ladies living in the town. I
could see no reason for objecting to this, and so promised to carry out
his suggestion. I set about the matter at once, and, with the assistance
of my wife, soon had a couple of score of more or less willing workers
busily engaged in the National Schoolroom. In the meantime the roll of a
terrible cannonade had burst forth again from Wickham Bishops. It seemed
louder and more insistent than ever. As soon as I got away from the
schools I hurried home and climbed out on the roof. The top of the Moot
Hall and other coigns of vantage had all been occupied by the Germans.
However, with the aid of a pair of field-glasses I was able to see a
good bit. Black smoke was now pouring from Wickham Bishops in clouds,
and every now and again I fancied I could see the forked tongues of
flame shooting up above the surrounding trees. A series of scattered
black dots now came out on the open ground to the south of the church.
The trees of Eastland Wood soon hid them from my sight, but others
followed, mingled with little moving black blocks which I took to be
formed bodies of troops. After them came four or five guns, driven at
breakneck pace towards the road that passes between Eastland and
Captain's Woods, then more black dots, also in a desperate hurry.
Several of these last tumbled, and lay still here and there all over the
slope.

"Other dots followed at their heels. They were not quite so distinct. I
looked harder. Hurrah! They were men in khaki. We were hustling these
Germans at last. They also disappeared behind the woods. Then from the
fringe of trees about Wickham half a dozen big brilliant flashes,
followed after an interval by the loud detonation of heavy cannon. I
could not distinguish much more, though the rattle of battle went on for
some time longer. Soon after eleven four German guns galloped in from
Heybridge. These were followed by a procession of maimed and limping
humanity. Some managed to get along unaided, though with considerable
difficulty. Others were supported by a comrade, some carried between two
men, and others borne along on stretchers. A couple of ambulance carts
trotted out and picked up more wounded. Our bandages and lint had not
long to wait before being required. After this there was a cessation of
firing.

"About one o'clock the German general sent word to me that he thought an
attack quite possible during the afternoon, and that he strongly advised
me to get all the women and children out of the town--for the time being
at any rate. This was evidently well meant, but it was a pretty
difficult matter to arrange for, to say nothing of raising a panic among
the inhabitants. However, in an hour and a half's time I had contrived
to marshal several hundred of them together, and to get them out on the
road to Mundon. The weather was warm for the time of the year, and I
thought, if the worst came to the worst, they could spend the night in
the old church. I left the sad little column of exiles--old, bent women
helped along by their daughters, tiny children dragged along through the
dust, clutching their mothers' skirts; infants in arms; and other older
and sturdier children staggering beneath the weight of the most precious
home adornments--and made the best of my way back to arrange for the
forwarding to them of their rations.

"At every step on my homeward way I expected to hear the cannonade begin
again. But beyond the twittering of the birds in the trees and
hedgerows, the creak and rumble of a passing cart, and the rush of a
train along the railway on my left--just the usual sounds of the
countryside--nothing broke the stillness. As I stepped out on the
familiar highway, I could almost bring myself to believe that the events
of the past twenty-four hours were but the phantasmagoria of a dream.
After interviewing some of the town councillors who were going to
undertake the transport of provisions to the women and children at
Mundon, I walked round to my own house.

"My wife and family had driven over to Purleigh on the first alarm, and
had arranged to stay the night with some friends, on whatever
shake-downs could be improvised, since every house in the peninsula
harboured some of the ubiquitous German officers and men. I wandered
through the familiar rooms, and came out into the garden, or rather,
what had been the garden. There I saw that the Saxon gunners were all
standing to their pieces, and one of my none too welcome guests accosted
me as I left the house.

"'If you'll take my advice, sare, you'll get away out of this,' he said
in broken English.

"'What! are you going to fire?' I asked.

"'I don't fancy so. It wouldn't hurt you if we were. But I think your
English friends from Colchester are about to see if they can draw us.'

"As he spoke I became aware of a sharp, hissing noise like a train
letting off steam. It grew louder and nearer, passed over our heads, and
was almost instantly followed by a terrible crash somewhere behind the
house. A deeper and more muffled report came up from the valley beyond
Heybridge.

"'Well, they've begun now, and the best thing you can do is to get down
into that gun epaulment there,' said the German officer.

"I thought his advice was good, and I lost no time in following it.

"'Here comes another!' cried he, as he jumped down into the pit beside
me. 'We'll have plenty of them now.'

"So we did. Shell after shell came hissing and screaming at us over the
tree-tops in the gardens lower down the hill. Each one of them sounded
to me as if it were coming directly at my head, but one after another
passed over us to burst beyond. The gunners all crouched close to the
earthen parapet--and so did I. I am not ashamed to say so. My German
officer, however, occasionally climbed to the top of the embankment and
studied the prospect through his field-glasses. At length there was a
loud detonation, and a column of dirt and smoke in the garden next below
us. Then two shells struck the parapet of the gun-pit on our left almost
simultaneously. Their explosion was deafening, and we were covered with
the dust and stones they threw up.

"Immediately afterwards another shell passed so close over our heads
that I felt my hair lift. It just cleared the parapet and plunged into
the side of my house. A big hole appeared just to the right of the
dining-room window, and through it came instantaneously the loud bang of
the explosion. The glass was shattered in all the windows, and thick
smoke, white and black, came curling from every one of them.

"'The house is on fire!' I shouted, and sprang madly from the pit.
Heedless of the bombardment, I rushed into the building. Another crash
sounded overhead as I entered, and a blaze of light shone down the
stairway for an instant. Another projectile had found a billet in my
home. I tried to make my way to my study, but found the passage blocked
with fallen beams and ceiling. What with the smoke and dust, and the
blocking of some of the windows, it was very dark in the hall, and I got
quite a shock when, as I looked about me to find my way, I saw two red,
glittering specks shining over the top of a heap of debris. But the howl
that followed told me that they were nothing but the eyes of miserable
Tim, the cat, who, left behind, had been nearly frightened out of his
senses by the noise and concussion of the bursting shell. As I gazed at
him another projectile struck the house quite close to us. Tim was
simply smashed by a flying fragment. I was thrown down, and half-buried
under a shower of bricks and mortar. I think that I must have lost
consciousness for a time.

"The next thing I recollect was being dragged out into the garden by a
couple of Saxons. I had a splitting headache, and was very glad of a
glass of water that one of them handed to me. Their officer, who
appeared to be quite a decent fellow, offered me his flask.

"'The house is all right,' he said, with his strong accent. 'It caught
fire once, but we managed to get it under. Your friends have cleared
off--at any rate for the present. They got too bold at last, and pushed
their guns down till they got taken in the flank by the warship in the
river. They had two of their pieces knocked to bits, and then cleared
out. Best thing you can do is to do the same.'

"I was in two minds. I could not save the house by staying, and might
just as well join my people at Purleigh Rectory. On the other hand, I
felt that it would better become me, as Mayor, to stick to the town.
Duty triumphed, and I decided to remain where I was--at least for the
present. All was now quiet, and after an early supper I turned in, and,
despite the excitement of the day and my aching head, was asleep the
moment I touched the pillow."

    "WEDNESDAY, _September 5_.

"It must have been about three in the morning when I awoke. My head was
much better, and for a minute or two I lay comfortably in the darkness,
without any recollection of the events of the preceding day. Then I saw
a bright reflection pass rapidly over the ceiling. I wondered vaguely
what it was. Presently it came back again, paused a moment, and
disappeared. By this time I was wide awake. I went to the window and
looked out. It was quite dark, but from somewhere over beyond Heybridge
a long white ray was sweeping all along this side of Maldon. Now the
foliage of a tree in the garden below would stand out in pale green
radiance against the blackness; now the wall of a house half a mile away
would reflect back the moving beam, shining white as a sheet of
notepaper.

"Presently another ray shone out, and the two of them, moving backwards
and forwards, made the whole of our hillside caper in a dizzy dance.
From somewhere far away to my right another stronger beam now streamed
through the obscurity, directed apparently at the sources of the other
two, and almost simultaneously came the crack of a rifle from the
direction of Heybridge, sharp and ominous in the quiet darkness of the
night. Half a dozen scattered shots followed; then a faint cheer. More
and more rifles joined in, and presently the burring tap-tap-tap of a
Maxim. I hurried on my clothes. The firing increased in volume and
rapidity; bugles rang out here, there, and everywhere through the
sleeping town, and above the rolling, rattling clamour of the drums I
could distinguish the hurried tramp of hundreds of feet.

"I cast one glance from the window as I quitted the room. The electric
searchlights had increased to at least half a dozen. Some reached out
long, steady fingers into the vague spaces of the night, while others
wandered restlessly up and down, hither and thither. Low down over the
trees of the garden a dull red glare slowly increased in extent and
intensity. The rattle of musketry was now absolutely continuous. As I
ran out of the house into the street, I was nearly carried off my feet
by the rush of a battalion that was pouring down Cromwell Hill at the
double. Hardly knowing what I did, I followed in their wake. The glare
in front got brighter and brighter. A few steps, and I could see the
cause of it. The whole of Heybridge appeared to be on fire, the flames
roaring skywards from a dozen different conflagrations."

England halted breathless. Fighting had commenced in real earnest.

The greatest consternation was caused by the publication in the "Times"
of the description of the operations in Essex, written by Mr. Henry
Bentley, the distinguished war correspondent, who had served that
journal in every campaign since Kitchener had entered Khartum.

All other papers, without exception, contained various accounts of the
British defence at the point nearest London, but they were mostly of the
scrappy and sensational order, based more on report than upon actual
fact. The "Times" account, however, had been written with calm
impartiality by one of the most experienced correspondents at the front.
Whether he had been afforded any special facilities was not apparent,
but, in any case, it was the most complete and truthful account of the
gallant attempt on the part of our soldiers to check the advance from
Essex westward.

During the whole of that hot, stifling day it was known that a battle
was raging, and the excitement everywhere was intense.

The public were in anxious terror as the hours crept by, until the first
authentic news of the result of the operations was printed in a special
evening edition of the "Times," as follows:

    "(From our War Correspondent.)

    "DANBURY, ESSEX, _September 8_.

"To-day has been a momentous one for England. The great battle has raged
since dawn, and though just at present there seems to be a lull, during
which the opposing forces are, so to speak, regaining their breath, it
can be by no means over.

"Dead and living alike will lie out on the battlefield the whole night
through, for we must hold on to the positions so hardly won, and be
ready to press forward at the first glimmer of daylight. Our gallant
troops, Regular and Volunteers alike, have nobly vindicated the
traditions of our race, and have fought as desperately as ever did their
forebears at Agincourt, Albuera, or Waterloo. But while a considerable
success--paid for, alas! by the loss of thousands of gallant lives--has
been achieved, it will take at least another day's hard fighting before
victory is in our grasp. Nowadays a soldier need not expect to be
either victorious or finally defeated by nightfall, and although this
battle, fought as it is between much smaller forces, and extending over
a much more limited area, than the great engagement between the Russians
and Japanese at Liaoyang, will not take quite so long a time to decide,
the end is not yet in sight. I wrote this after a hard day's travelling
backwards and forwards behind our advancing line of battle.

"I took my cycle with me in my motor-car, and whenever opportunity
offered mounted it, and pushed forward as near to the fighting as I
could get. Frequently I had to leave the cycle also, and crawl forward
on hands and knees, sheltering in some depression in the ground, while
the enemy's bullets whined and whistled overhead. As reported in a
previous issue, the Army which had assembled at Brentwood moved forward
on the 5th.

"During the afternoon the advanced troops succeeded in driving the enemy
out of South Hanningfield, and before sundown they were also in full
retreat from the positions they had held at East Hanningfield and
Danbury. There was some stiff fighting at the latter place, but after a
pounding from the artillery, who brought several batteries into action
on the high ground north-west of East Hanningfield, the Germans were
unable to withstand the attack of the Argyll and Sutherlands and the
London Scottish, who worked their way through Danbury Park and Hall Wood
right into their position, driving them from their entrenchments by a
dashing bayonet charge. Everything north and east of the enemy's main
position, which is now known to lie north and south, between Maldon and
the river Crouch, was now in our hands, but his troops still showed a
stout front at Wickford, and were also reported to be at Rayleigh,
Hockley, and Canewdon, several miles to the eastward. All preparations
were made to assault the German position at Wickford at daybreak to-day,
but our scouts found that the place had been evacuated. The news that
Rayleigh and Hockley had also been abandoned by the enemy came in
shortly afterwards. The German invaders had evidently completed their
arrangements for the defence of their main position, and now said, in
effect, 'Come on, and turn us out if you can.'

"It was no easy task that lay before our gallant defenders. Maldon,
perched on a high knoll, with a network of river and canal protecting it
from assault from the northward, fairly bristles with guns, many of
them heavy field howitzers, and has, as we know to our cost, already
repulsed one attack by our troops. Farther south there are said to be
many guns on the knolls about Purleigh. Great Canney Hill, standing
boldly up like an immense redoubt, is reported to be seamed with
entrenchments mounting many heavy guns. The railway embankment south of
Maldon forms a perfect natural rampart along part of the enemy's
position, while the woods and enclosures south-west of Great Canney
conceal thousands of sharpshooters. A sort of advanced position was
occupied by the enemy at Edwin Hall, a mile east of Woodham Ferrers,
where a pair of high kopjes a quarter of a mile apart offered command
and cover to some of their field batteries.

"Our scouts have discovered also that an elaborate system of wire
entanglements and other military obstacles protects almost the whole
front of the somewhat extensive German position. On its extreme left
their line is said to be thrown back at an angle, so that any attempt to
outflank it would not only entail crossing the river Crouch, but would
come under the fire of batteries placed on the high ground overlooking
it. Altogether, it is a very tough nut to crack, and the force at our
disposal none too strong for the work that lies before it.

"Further detail regarding our strength would be inadvisable for obvious
reasons, but when I point out that the Germans are supposed to be
between thirty and forty thousand strong, and that it is laid down by
competent military authorities that to attack troops in an entrenched
position a superiority of six to one is advisable, my readers can draw
their own conclusions.

"The repairs to the railway line between Brentwood and Chelmsford, that
had been damaged by the enemy's cavalry on their first landing, were
completed yesterday, and all night reinforcements had been coming in by
way of Chelmsford and Billericay. The general headquarters had been
established at Danbury, and, thither I made my way as fast as my car
could get along the roads, blocked as they were by marching horse, foot,
and artillery. I had spent the night at South Hanningfield, so as to be
on the spot for the expected attack on Wickford; but as soon as I found
it was not to come off, I considered that at Danbury would be the best
chance of finding out what our next move was to be.

"Nor was I mistaken. As I ran up to the village I found the roads full
of troops under arms, and everything denoted action of some kind. I was
lucky enough to come across a friend of mine on the staff--Captain
B----, I will call him--who spared a moment to give me the tip that a
general move forward was commencing, and that a big battle was imminent.
Danbury is situated on the highest ground for many miles round, and as
it bid fair to be a fine, clear day, I thought I could not do better
than try and get a general look round from the summit of the church
tower before proceeding farther. But I was informed that the General was
up there with some of his staff and a signalling party, so that I could
not ascend.

"My pass, however, eventually procured me admission to the little
platform, which, by the way, the General left a moment after my arrival.
It was now eight o'clock, the sun was fairly high in the heavens, and
the light mists that hung about the low ground in the vicinity of Maldon
were fast fading into nothingness. The old town was plainly
distinguishable as a dark silhouette against the morning light, which,
while it illumined the panorama spread out before me, yet rendered
observation somewhat difficult, since it shone almost directly into my
eyes. However, by the aid of my glasses I was able to see something of
the first moves on the fatal chess-board where so many thousands of
lives are staked on the bloody game of war.

"I noticed among other things that the lessons of the recent war in the
East had not passed unobserved, for in all the open spaces on the
eastern slope of the hill, where the roads were not screened by trees or
coppices, lofty erections of hurdles and greenery had been placed
overnight to hide the preliminary movements of our troops from the
glasses of the enemy. Under cover of these, regiment after regiment of
khaki-clad soldiers, batteries of artillery and ammunition carts, were
proceeding to their allotted posts down the network of roads and lanes
leading to the lower ground towards the south-east. Two battalions stood
in quarter column behind Thrift Wood. They were kilted corps, probably
the Argylls and the London Scottish. Several field batteries moved off
to the left towards Woodham Walter. Other battalions took up their
position behind Hyde Woods, farther away to the right, the last of them,
the Grenadier Guards, I fancy, passing behind them and marching still
farther southward.

"Finally, two strong battalions, easily recognised as marines by their
blue war-kit, marched rapidly down the main road and halted presently
behind Woodham Mortimer Place. All this time there was neither sight nor
sound of the enemy. The birds carolled gaily in the old elms round my
eyrie, the sparrows and martins piped and twittered in the eaves of the
old church, and the sun shone genially on hill and valley, field and
wood. To all appearance, peace reigned over the countryside, though the
dun masses of troops in the shadows of the woodlands were suggestive of
the autumn manoeuvres. But for all this the 'Real Thing' was upon us. As
I looked, first one, then another long and widely scattered line of
crouching men in khaki issued from the cover of Hyde Woods and began
slowly to move away towards the east. Then, and not till then, a vivid
violet-white flash blazed out on the dim grey upland five miles away to
the south-east, which had been pointed out to me as Great Canney, and
almost at once a spout of earth and smoke sprang up a little way ahead
of the advancing British. A dull boom floated up on the breeze, but was
drowned in an ear-splitting crash somewhere close to me. I felt the old
tower rock under the concussion, which I presently discovered came from
a battery of at least six big 4.7 guns established just outside the
churchyard.

"They were manned by a party of bluejackets, who had brought them over
from Chatham. The movement I saw developing below me was the first step
towards what I eventually discovered was our main objective--Purleigh.

"Could we succeed in establishing ourselves there, we should be beyond
effective range from Maldon, and should also take Great Canney in
reverse, as well as the positions on the refused left flank of the
enemy. Maldon, too, would be isolated. Purleigh, therefore, was the key
of the position. Our first move was in this direction. The scouts were
picked men from the Line battalions, but the firing lines were composed
of Volunteers and, in some cases, Militiamen. It was considered more
politic to reserve the Regulars for the later stages of the attack. The
firing from Canney, and afterwards from Purleigh, was at first at rather
too long a range to be effective, even from the heavy guns that were in
use, and later on the heavy long-range fire from 'Bloody Mary' and her
sisters at Danbury, and other heavy guns and howitzers in the
neighbourhood of East Hanningfield, kept it down considerably, although
the big, high-explosive shells were now and again most terribly
destructive to the advancing British.

"When, however, the firing line--which as yet had not been near enough
to fire a shot in reply--arrived in the neighbourhood of Loddard's Hill,
its left came under a terrible rifle fire from Hazeleigh Wood, while its
right and centre were all but destroyed by a tornado of shrapnel from
some German field batteries to the north of Purleigh. Though dazed and
staggered under the appalling sleet of projectiles, the Volunteers stuck
doggedly to their ground, though unable to advance. Line after line was
pushed forward, the men stumbling and falling over the thickly-scattered
bodies of their fallen comrades.

"It was a perfect holocaust. Some other card must be played at once, or
the attack must fail."

The second of Mr. Henry Bentley's descriptive articles in the "Times"
told a terrible truth, and was as follows:

    "(From our War Correspondent.)

    "CHELMSFORD, _September 7_.

"When I sent off my despatch by motor-car last night, it was with very
different feelings to those with which I take my pen in hand this
evening, in the Saracen's Head Hotel, which is the headquarters of my
colleagues, the correspondents.

"Last night, despite the hard fighting and the heavy losses we had
sustained, the promise of the morrow was distinctly a good one. But now
I have little heart with which to commence the difficult and unpleasant
task of chronicling the downfall of all our high hopes, the repulse--ay,
and the defeat--it is no use mincing matters--of our heroic and sorely
tried Army.

"Yes, our gallant soldiers have sustained a reverse which, but for their
stubborn fighting qualities and a somewhat inexplicable holding back on
the part of the Germans, might very easily have culminated in disaster.
Defeat although it undoubtedly is, the darkness of the gloomy outlook is
illuminated by the brilliancy of the conduct of our troops.

"From General down to the youngest Volunteer drummer boy, our brave
soldiers did all, and more, than could be humanly expected of them, and
on none of them can be laid the blame of our ill-success. The plan of
attack is agreed on all hands to have been as good a one as could have
been evolved; the officers led well, their men fought well, and there
was no running short of ammunition at any period of the engagement.

"'Who, then, was responsible?' it may well be asked. The answer is
simple. The British public, which, in its apathetic attitude towards
military efficiency, aided and abetted by the soothing theories of the
extremists of the 'Blue Water' school, had, as usual, neglected to
provide an Army fitted to cope in numbers and efficiency with those of
our Continental neighbours. Had we had a sufficiency of troops, more
especially of regular troops, there is not the slightest doubt that the
victory would have been ours. As it was, our General was obliged to
attack the enemy's position with a force whose numbers, even if they had
been all regular soldiers, were below those judged necessary by military
experts for the task in hand.

"Having broken through the German lines, success was in his grasp had he
had sufficient reinforcements to have established him in the position he
had won, and to beat back the inevitable counter-attack. But it is best
that I should continue my account of the fighting from the point at
which I closed my letter of yesterday. I had arrived at the checking of
our advance near Loddard's Hill by the blast of shrapnel from the German
field batteries. It was plain that the Volunteer Brigade, though it held
its ground, could not advance farther. But, unnoticed by them, the
General had been preparing for this eventuality.

"On the left the two battalions of Marines that I noticed drawn up
behind Woodham Mortimer Place suddenly debouched on Loddard's Hill, and,
carrying forward with them the debris of the Volunteer firing line,
hurled themselves into Hazeleigh Wood. There was a sanguinary
hand-to-hand struggle on the wire-entangled border, but the newcomers
were not to be denied, and, after a quarter of an hour's desperate
melee, which filled the sylvan glades with moaning and writhing wounded
and stark dead bodies, we remained masters of the wood, and even
obtained a footing on the railway line where it adjoins it.

"Simultaneously a long line of our field batteries came into action near
Woodham Mortimer, some trying to beat down the fire of the German guns
opposite, while others replied to a battery which had been established
near West Maldon Station to flank the railway, and which was now
beginning to open on Hazeleigh Wood. The latter were assisted by a
battery of 4.7 guns manned by Volunteers, which took up a position
behind Woodham Walter. The firing on Great Canney from our batteries at
East Hanningfield redoubled, the whole summit of the hill being at times
obscured by the clouds of smoke and debris from the explosions of the
big, high-explosive projectiles.

"The main firing line, continually fed from the rear, now began slowly
to gain ground, and when the Grenadiers and the Irish Guards, who had
managed to work up through the series of plantations that run eastwards
for nearly two miles from Woodham Hall without drawing any particular
attention from the busily engaged enemy, came into action on the right,
there was a distinct move forward. But the defence was too stubborn, and
about midday the whole line again came to a standstill, its left still
in Hazeleigh Wood, its right at Prentice Farm. Orders were passed that
the men should try to entrench themselves as best they could, and spades
and other tools were sent forward to those corps who were not provided
with them already.

"Here we must leave the main attack to notice what was going on
elsewhere. On the north the Colchester Garrison again brought their
heavy artillery into action on the slopes south of Wickham Bishops,
while others of our troops made a show of advancing against Maldon from
the west. These movements were, however, merely intended to keep the
German garrison occupied. But on the right a rather important flanking
movement was in progress.

"We had a considerable body of troops at East Hanningfield, which lies
in a hollow between two little ridges, both running from south-west to
north-east, and about a mile apart. The most easterly ridge is very
narrow for the most part, and behind it were stationed several batteries
of our field howitzers, which fired over it at Great Canney at a range
of about 5,000 yards. A number of 4.7-inch guns, scattered over the
western hill, were also concentrated on the same target. Although the
range was an extremely long one, there is no doubt that they made a
certain number of effective hits, since Great Canney offered a
conspicuous and considerable target. But beyond this the flashes of
their discharges drew off all attention from the howitzer batteries in
front of them, and served to conceal their presence from the enemy.
Otherwise, although invisible, their presence would have been guessed
at. As it was, not a single German projectile came anywhere near them.

"When the fighting began, those troops who were not intended to be held
in reserve or to co-operate with the right of the main attack moved off
in the direction of Woodham Ferrers, and made a feint of attacking the
German position astride the two kopjes at Edwin's Hall, their field guns
coming into action on the high ground north of Rettendon, and engaging
those of the enemy at long range. But the real attack on this salient of
the German position came from a very different quarter.

"The troops detailed for this movement were those who had advanced
against Wickford at daybreak, and had found it abandoned by the enemy.
They consisted of the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, the Honourable
Artillery Company, and the Inns of Court Volunteers, together with their
own and three or four other machine-gun detachments, their Maxims being
mounted on detachable legs instead of carriages. Co-operating with them
were the Essex and the East Kent Yeomanry, who were scouting in the
direction of Hockley.

"The troops had a long, wearisome march before them, the design being to
take advantage of the time of low tide, and to move along out of sight
of the enemy behind the northern bank of the river Crouch, as it had
been discovered that the German line of defence turned back to the
eastward at a mile or two north of the river at the point aimed at. Its
guns still commanded it, and might be trusted to render abortive any
attempt to throw a bridge across it. The Yeomanry had the task of
occupying the attention of the enemy at Canewdon, and of preventing the
passage of boats from the German warships. This part of our operations
succeeded admirably. The long creeping lines of the Oxfordshires and the
machine-gun detachments in their khaki uniforms were almost
indistinguishable against the steep mud banks at any distance, and they
escaped observation both from the German main lines and from their
outpost at Canewdon until they had reached the entrances of the two
branch creeks for which they were making.

"Then, and not till then, came the sound of artillery from the left rear
of the German position. But it was too late. The Oxford companies pushed
forward at the double. Five companies lined the embankments of Stow
Creek, the easternmost of the two, while the remainder, ensconced in
Clementsgreen Creek, aligned the whole of their machine-guns on the
southern of the two kopjes against which the manoeuvre had been
directed. Their fire, which, coming from a little to the rear of the
left flank of the southern kopje, completely enfiladed it, created such
slaughter and confusion that the Honourable Artillery Company and the
Inns of Court, who had been working up the railway line from Battle
Bridge, had little difficulty in establishing themselves at Woodham
Ferrers Station and in an adjacent farm. Being almost immediately
afterwards reinforced by the arrival of two regular battalions who had
been pushed forward from Rettendon, a determined assault was made on the
southern kopje. Its defenders, demoralised by the pelting shower of lead
from the machine-gun battery, and threatened also by the advance from
Woodham Ferrers village, gave way, and our people, forcing their way
over every obstacle, seized the position amid frantic cheering.

"Meanwhile the Oxfordshires had been subjected to a determined
counter-attack from North Frambridge. Preceded by a pounding from the
guns on Kit's Hill, but aided by the fire of the Yeomanry on the south
bank of the river, who galloped up and lined the embankment, thus
flanking the defenders of Stow Creek, it was beaten back with
considerable loss. The machine-guns were transferred to the
neighbourhood of South Kopje, and used with such effect that its
defenders, after repulsing several counter-attacks from the adjoining
German entrenchment, were able to make themselves masters of the North
Kopje also.

"Elsewhere the fighting still continued strenuous and deadly. The main
attack had contrived to make some little shelter for itself; but though
three several attempts were made to advance from this, all ended in
failure, one nearly in disaster. This was the last of the three, when
the advancing line was charged by a mass of cavalry which suddenly
appeared from behind Great Canney Hill. I myself was a witness of this
attack, the most picturesque incident of the day's fighting.

"I was watching the progress of the engagement through my glasses from
the high ground about Wickham's Farm, when I saw line after line of the
German horsemen in their sky-blue tunics and glittering helmets trot out
into the open, canter, and one after another break into a mad gallop, as
they bore down upon the advancing lines of our citizen soldiers.
Staunchly as these had withstood the murderous fire which for hours had
been directed upon them, this whirlwind of lance and sabre, the thunder
of thousands of hoofs, and the hoarse cries of the riders, were rather
more than such partially trained soldiers could stand. A scattering
discharge from their rifles was followed by something very much
approaching a _sauve qui peut_.

"A large number of Volunteers, however, sought shelter among the ruined
houses of Cock Clarke's hamlet, from whence they opened a heavy fire on
the adventurous horsemen. The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, who
were by this time in Mosklyns Copse, and the Guards and other troops on
the right, also opened a rapid and sustained fire on the German cavalry,
which seconded by the shrapnel from our guns on Loddard's Hill, caused
them to turn and ride back for their lives. There was a tremendous
outburst of firing from both sides after this, followed by quite a lull.
One could well imagine that all the combatants were exhausted by the
prolonged effort of the day. It was now between five and six in the
evening. It was at this time that the news of the capture of the two
kopjes reached me, and I made for Danbury to write my despatches.

"Shortly after my arrival I heard of the capture of Spar Hill, a
detached knoll about 1,200 yards to the north-west of Purleigh. The
Marines from Hazeleigh Wood and the Highlanders from Mosklyns Copse had
suddenly and simultaneously assaulted it from opposite sides, and were
now entrenching themselves upon it. What wonder, then, that I reported
satisfactory progress, and reckoned--too confidently, as it proved--on a
victory for the morrow?

"I spent a great part of that night under the stars on the hilltop near
East Hanningfield, watching the weird play of the searchlights which
swept over the country from a score of different positions, and
listening to the crash of artillery and clatter of rifle fire which now
and again told of some attempted movement under cover of the darkness.
Just before daylight the continuous roar of battle began again, and when
light dawned I found that our troops had cut right through the German
lines, and had penetrated as far as Cop Kitchen's Farm, on the
Maldon-Mundon road. Reinforcements were being hurried up, and an attack
was being pushed towards the rear of Purleigh and Great Canney, which
was being heavily bombarded by some of our large guns, which had been
mounted during the night on the two kopjes.

"But the reinforcements were not enough. The Germans held fast to
Purleigh and to some reserve positions they had established about
Mundon. After two or three hours of desperate effort, costing the lives
of thousands, our attack was at a standstill. At this critical moment a
powerful counter-attack was made from Maldon, and, outnumbered and
almost surrounded, our gallant warriors had to give ground. But they
fell back as doggedly as they had advanced, the Argylls, Marines, and
Grenadiers covering the retreat on Danbury.

"The guns at East Hanningfield and the two kopjes checked the pursuit to
a great extent, and the Germans seemed unwilling to go far from their
works. The kopjes had to be abandoned later in the day, and we now
occupy our former line from Danbury to Billericay, and are busily
engaged in entrenching ourselves."




CHAPTER VIII.

DEFENCE AT LAST.


Late on Wednesday night came tardy news of the measures we were taking
to mobilise.

The Aldershot Army Corps, so complete in the "Army List," consisted, as
all the world knew, of three divisions, but of these only two existed,
the other being found to be on paper. The division in question, located
at Bordon, was to be formed on mobilisation, and this measure was now
being proceeded with. The train service was practically suspended, owing
to the damage done to the various lines south of London by the enemy's
emissaries. Several of these men had been detected, and, being in plain
clothes, were promptly shot out of hand. However, their work had,
unfortunately for us, been accomplished, and trains could only run as
far as the destroyed bridges, so men on their way to join their
respective corps were greatly delayed in consequence.

All was confusion at Bordon, where men were arriving in hundreds on foot
and by the service of motor omnibuses, which the War Office had on the
day before established between Charing Cross and Aldershot. Perspiring
staff officers strove diligently, without much avail, to sort out into
their respective units this ever-increasing mass of reservists.

There was perfect chaos.

Before the chief constituent parts of the division--that is to say,
regiments who were stationed elsewhere--had arrived little could be done
with the reservists. The regiments in question were in many cases
stationed at considerable distance, and although they had received
orders to start, were prevented from arriving owing to the universal
interruptions of the railway traffic south. By this, whole valuable days
were lost--days when at any hour the invaders might make a sudden swoop
on London.

Reports were alarming and conflicting. Some said that the enemy meant to
strike a blow upon the capital just as suddenly as they had landed,
while others reassured the alarmists that the German plans were not yet
complete, and that they had not sufficient stores to pursue the
campaign.

Reservists, with starvation staring them in the face, went eagerly south
to join their regiments, knowing that at least they would be fed with
regularity; while, in addition, the true patriotic spirit of the
Englishman had been roused against the aggressive Teuton, and everyone,
officer and man, was eager to bear his part in driving the invader into
the sea.

The public were held breathless. What would happen?

Arrivals at Aldershot, however, found the whole arrangements in such a
complete muddle that Army Service Corps men, who ought to have been at
Woolwich, were presenting themselves for enrolment at Bordon, and
infantry of the line were conducted into the camp of the Dragoons. The
Motor Volunteer Corps were at this moment of very great use. The cars
were filled with staff officers and other exalted officials, who were
settling themselves in various offices, and passing out again to make
necessary arrangements for dealing with such a large influx of men.

There were activity and excitement everywhere. Men were rapidly drawing
their clothing, or as much of it as they could get, and civilians were
quickly becoming soldiers on every hand. Officers of the Reserve were
driving up in motor-cars and cabs, many of them with their old battered
uniform cases, that had seen service in the field in distant parts of
the globe. Men from the "Junior" and the "Senior" wrung each other's
hands on returning to active duty with their old regiments, and at once
settled down into the routine work they knew so well.

The rumour, however, had now got about that a position in the
neighbourhood of Cambridge had been selected by the General Staff as
being the most suitable theatre of action where an effective stand
could, with any hope of success, be made. It was evident that the German
tactics were to strike a swift and rapid blow at London. Indeed, nothing
at present stood in their way except the gallant little garrison at
Colchester, who had been so constantly driven back by the enemy's
cavalry on attempting to make any reconnaissance, and who might be swept
out of existence at any hour.

       *       *       *       *       *

During Tuesday and Wednesday large gangs of workmen had been busy
repairing the damaged lines. The first regiment complete for the field
was the 2nd Battalion of the 5th Fusiliers, who carried upon their
colours the names of a score of battles, ranging from Corunna and
Badajoz, all through the Peninsula, Afghanistan, and Egypt, down to the
Modder River. This regiment left by train for London on Tuesday evening,
and was that same night followed by the 2nd Battalion King's Liverpool
Regiment and the 1st King's Shropshire Light Infantry, while the
Manchester Regiment got away soon after midnight.

These formed the second infantry brigade of the 1st Division, and were
commanded by Brigadier-General Sir John Money. They were several hours
getting up to London, whence from Clapham Junction their trains circled
London on to the Great Eastern system to Braintree, where the Horn Hotel
was made the headquarters. By other trains in the small hours of the
morning the last of the Guards Brigade under Colonel (temporary
Brigadier-General) Lord Wansford departed, and duly arrived at Saffron
Walden, to join their comrades on the line of defence.

The divisional troops were also on the move early on Wednesday. Six
batteries of artillery and the field company of Royal Engineers left by
road. There was a balloon section accompanying this, and searchlights,
wireless instruments, and cables for field-telegraphy were carried in
the waggons.

The 2nd Division, under Lieutenant-General Morgan, C.B., was also
active. The 3rd Infantry Brigade, commanded by Major-General Fortescue,
composed of 2nd Battalion Northamptonshire Regiment, the 2nd
Bedfordshire, the 1st Princess of Wales' Own, and the 1st Royal Welsh
Fusiliers, were preparing, but had not yet moved. The 4th Infantry
Brigade of the same division, consisting of the 3rd and 4th Battalions
King's Royal Rifle Corps, the 2nd Sherwood Foresters, and the 2nd South
Lancashire, with the usual smartness of those distinguished regiments,
were quick and ready, now as ever, to go to the front. They were
entrained to Baldock, slightly east of Hitchin, where they marched out
on the Icknield Way. These were followed by Fortescue's Brigade, who
were also bound for Baldock and the neighbourhood.

The bulk of the cavalry and field artillery of both divisions, together
with the divisional troops, were compelled to set out by march-route
from Aldershot for the line of defences. The single and all-sufficient
reason of this delay in sending out the cavalry and artillery was owing
to the totally inadequate accommodation on the railways for the
transport of so many horses and guns. The troop-trains, which were of
course, necessary to transport the infantry, were not forthcoming in
sufficient numbers, this owing to the fact that at several points the
lines to London were still interrupted.

The orders to the cavalry who went by march-route were to get up to the
line proposed to be taken up by the infantry as quickly as possible,
and to operate in front of it to the east and north-east in screening
and reconnoitring duties. The temporary deficiency of cavalry, who
ought, of course, to have been the first to arrive at the scene, was
made good as far as possible by the general employment of hordes of
motor-cyclists, who scoured the country in large armed groups, in order
to ascertain, if possible, the dispositions of the enemy. This they did,
and very soon after their arrival reported the result of their
investigations to the general officers commanding the 1st and 2nd
Divisions.

Meanwhile both cavalry and artillery in great bodies, and strings of
motor omnibuses filled with troops, were upon the white, dusty roads
passing through Staines to Hounslow and Brentford, thence to London, St.
Albans, _en route_ to their respective divisions. Roughly, the distance
was over fifty miles, therefore those marching were compelled to halt
the night on the way, while those in the motor omnibuses got through to
their destination.

The sight of British troops hurrying to the front swelled the hearts of
the villagers and townsfolk with renewed patriotism, and everywhere,
through the blazing, dusty day, the men were offered refreshment by even
the poorest and humblest cottagers. In Bagshot, in Staines, and in
Hounslow the people went frantic with excitement, as squadron after
squadron rapidly passed along, with its guns, waggons, and ambulances
rumbling noisily over the stones in the rear.

Following these came pontoon troops with their long grey waggons and
mysterious-looking bridging apparatus, telegraph troops, balloon
sections, supply columns, field bakery, and field hospitals, the
last-named packed in waggons marked with the well-known red cross of the
Geneva Convention.

No sooner was Aldershot denuded of its army corps, however, than
battalions began to arrive from Portsmouth on their way north, while
troops from the great camp on Salisbury Plain were rapidly being pushed
to the front, which, roughly speaking, extended through Hitchin,
Royston, to Saffron Walden, across to Braintree, and also the high
ground commanding the valley of the Colne to Colchester.

The line chosen by the General Staff was the natural chain of hills
which presented the first obstacle to the enemy advancing on London
from the wide plain stretching eastward beyond Cambridge to the sea.

If this could be held strongly, as was intended, by practically the
whole of the British forces located in the South of England, including
the Yeomanry, Militia, and Volunteers--who were now all massing in every
direction--then the deadly peril threatening England might be averted.

But could it be held?

This was the appalling question on every one's tongue all over the
country, for it now became generally known that upon this line of
defence four complete and perfectly equipped German army corps were
ready to advance at any moment, in addition to the right flank being
exposed to the attack of the XIIth Saxon Corps, entrenched on the Essex
coast.

It was estimated that no fewer than two hundred thousand Germans were
already upon English soil!

The outlook grew blacker every hour.

London was in a state of absolute stagnation and chaos. In the City,
business was now at an entire standstill. The credit system had received
a fatal blow, and nobody wanted to buy securities. Had people kept level
heads in the crisis there would have been a moratorium, but, as it was,
a panic had been created that nothing could allay. Even Consols were now
unsaleable. Some of the smaller banks were known to have failed, and
traders and manufacturers all over the country had been ruined on
account of credit, the foundation of all trade, having been swept away.
Only persons of the highest financial standing could have dealt with the
banks, even if they had remained open.

The opinion held in banking circles was that if the invasion should
unfortunately prove disastrous to England, and Germany demand a huge
indemnity, there was still hope, however small. The experience of the
Franco-German war had proved that, though in such circumstances the
Bank, for a considerable period, might not be able to resume cash
payments, yet, with sound finance, there was no reason that the currency
should greatly depreciate. During the period of suspension of cash
payments by the Bank of France, the premium on gold never went above 1.5
per cent., and during most of the period was 5, 4, or even less per
mille. Therefore what the French by sound banking had been able to do,
there was no reason why English bankers could not also do.


    WE, WILHELM,

    GIVE NOTICE to the inhabitants of those provinces occupied by
    the German Imperial Army, that--

    I MAKE WAR upon the soldiers, and not upon English citizens.
    Consequently, it is my wish to give the latter and their
    property entire security, and as long as they do not embark upon
    hostile enterprise against the German troops they have a right
    to my protection.

    GENERALS COMMANDING the various corps in the various districts
    in England are ordered to place before the public the stringent
    measures which I have ordered to be adopted against towns,
    villages, and persons who act in contradiction to the usages of
    war. They are to regulate in the same manner all the operations
    necessary for the well-being of our troops, to fix the
    difference between the English and German rate of exchange, and
    to facilitate in every manner possible the individual
    transactions between our Army and the inhabitants of England.

    =WILHELM.=

    Given at POTSDAM, _September 4th, 1910_.

    [Illustration: The above is a copy of the German Imperial
    Decree, printed in English, which was posted by unknown German
    agents in London, and which appeared everywhere throughout East
    Anglia and in that portion of the Midlands held by the enemy.]


At the outbreak of the war of 1870, on August 1, French Three per Cent.
Rentes were at 60.85, and Four and a Half per Cent. at 98. On the
memorable day of Sedan, September 2, they were at 50.80 and 88.50
respectively, and on January 2, 1871, Three per Cents. were down to
50.95. At the commencement of the Commune, on March 18, they were at
51.50 and 76.25, and on the 30th of that month down to 50.60 and 76.25
respectively.

With so little money in England as there now was, securities had fallen
to the value at which holders would as soon not sell as sell at such a
great discount. High rates and the heavy fall in the value of securities
had brought business in every quarter all over London to a standstill.
Firms all over the country were now hard put to in order to find the
necessary money to carry on their various trades. Instantly after the
report of the reverse at Sheffield, there was a wild rush to obtain
gold, and securities dropped even a few more points.

Therefore there was little or nothing for the banks to do, and Lombard
Street, Lothbury, and the other banking centres were closed, as though
it had been Sunday or Bank Holiday. Despair was, alas! everywhere, and
the streets presented strange scenes.

Most of the motor omnibuses had been taken off the road and pressed into
the service of the military. The walls bore a dozen different broadsides
and proclamations, which were read by the gaping, hungry crowds.

The Royal Standard was flying from St. Stephen's Tower, for Parliament
had now met, and all members who were not abroad for their summer
vacation had taken their places at the heated debates now hourly in
progress. Over Buckingham Palace the Royal Standard also flew proudly,
while upon every public building was displayed a Union Jack or a white
ensign, many of which had done duty at the coronation of His Majesty
King Edward. The Admiralty flew its own flag, and upon the War Office,
the India Office, the Foreign Office, and all the dark, sombre
Government buildings in Whitehall was bunting displayed.

The wild enthusiasm of Sunday and Monday, however, had given place to a
dark, hopeless apprehension. The great mobs now thronging all the
principal thoroughfares in London were already half-famished. Food was
daily rising in price, and the East End was already starving. Bands of
lawless men and women from the slums of Whitechapel were parading the
West End streets and squares, and were camping out in Hyde Park and St.
James's Park.

The days were stifling, for it was an unusually hot September following
upon a blazing August, and as each breathless evening the sun sank, it
shed its blood-red afterglow over the giant metropolis, grimly
precursory of the ruin so surely imminent.

Supplies were still reaching London from the country, but there had been
immediate panic in the corn and provision markets, with the result that
prices had instantly jumped up beyond the means of the average Londoner.
The poorer ones were eagerly collecting the refuse in Covent Garden
Market and boiling it down to make soup in lieu of anything else, while
wise fathers of families went to the shops themselves and made meagre
purchases daily of just sufficient food to keep body and soul together.

For the present there was no fear of London being absolutely starved, at
least the middle class and wealthier portion of it. At present it was
the poor--the toiling millions now unemployed--who were the first to
feel the pinch of hunger and its consequent despair. They filled the
main arteries of London--Holborn, Oxford Street, the Strand, Regent
Street, Piccadilly, the Haymarket, St. James's Street, Park Lane,
Victoria Street, and Knightsbridge, overflowing northward into
Grosvenor, Berkeley, Portman, and Cavendish Squares, Portland Place, and
to the terraces around Regent's Park. The centre of London became
congested. Day and night it was the same. There was no sleep. From
across the river and from the East End the famished poor came in their
bewildering thousands, the majority of them honest workers, indignant
that by the foolish policy of the Government they now found themselves
breadless.

Before the Houses of Parliament, before the fine new War Office and the
Admiralty, before Downing Street, and before the houses of known members
of the Government, constant demonstrations were being made, the hungry
crowds groaning at the authorities, and singing "God Save the King."
Though starving and in despair, they were nevertheless loyal, still
confident that by the personal effort of His Majesty some amicable
arrangement would be arrived at. The French _entente cordiale_ was
remembered, and our Sovereign had long ago been declared to be the first
diplomat in Europe. Every Londoner believed in him, and loved him.

Many houses of the wealthy, especially those of foreigners, had their
windows broken. In Park Lane, in Piccadilly, and in Grosvenor Square
more particularly, the houses seemed to excite the ire of the crowds,
who, notwithstanding special constables having been sworn in, were now
quite beyond the control of the police. The German Ambassador had
presented his letters of recall on Sunday evening, and together with the
whole staff had been accorded a safe conduct to Dover, whence they had
left for the Continent. The Embassy in Carlton House Terrace, and also
the Consulate-General in Finsbury Square, had, however, suffered
severely at the hands of the angry crowd, notwithstanding that both
premises were under police protection.

All the German waiters employed at the Cecil, the Savoy, the Carlton,
the Metropole, the Victoria, the Grand, and the other big London hotels,
had already fled for their lives out into the country, anywhere from the
vengeance of the London mob. Hundreds of them were trying to make their
way within the German lines in Essex and Suffolk, and it was believed
that many had succeeded--those, most probably, who had previously acted
as spies. Others, it was reported, had been set upon by the excited
populace, and more than one had lost his life.

Pandemonium reigned in London. Every class and every person in every
walk of life was affected. German interests were being looked after by
the Russian Ambassador, and this very fact caused a serious
demonstration before Chesham House, the big mansion where lives the
representative of the Czar. Audacious spies had, in secret, in the night
actually posted copies of Von Kronhelm's proclamation upon the Griffin
at Temple Bar, upon the Marble Arch, and upon the Mansion House. But
t

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