The Riddle of the Sands

by Erskine Childers

  XXVIII. We Achieve our Double Aim

  WHEN, exactly, the atmosphere of misunderstanding on the stranded tugwas dissipated, I do not know, for by the time I had fitted therowlocks and shipped sculls, tide and wind had caught me, and weresweeping me merrily back on the road to Norderney, whose lightstwinkled through the scud in the north. With my first few strokes Imade towards the lighter--which I could see sagging helplessly toleeward--but as soon as I thought I was out of sight of the tug, Ipulled round and worked out my own salvation. There was an outburstof shouting which soon died away. Full speed on a falling tide! Theywere pinned there for five hours sure. It was impossible to miss theway, and with my stout allies heaving me forward, I made short workof the two-mile passage. There was a sharp tussle at the last, wherethe Riff Gat poured its stream across my path, and then I was craningover my shoulder, God knows with what tense anxiety, for the low hulland taper mast of the _Dulcibella_. Not there! No, not where I had lefther. I pulled furiously up the harbour past a sleeping ferry-steamerand--praise Heaven!--came on her warped alongside the jetty.

  'Who's that?' came from below, as I stepped on board.

  'Hush! it's me.' And Davies and I were pawing one another in the darkof the cabin.

  'Are you all right, old chap?' said he.

  'Yes; are you? A match! What's the time? Quick!'

  'Good Heavens, Carruthers, what the blazes have you done toyourself?' (I suspect I cut a pretty figure after my two days'outing.)

  'Ten past three. It's the invasion of England! Is Dollmann at thevilla?'

  'Invasion?'

  'Is Dollmann at the villa?'

  'Yes.'

  'Is the 'Medusa' afloat?'

  'No, on the mud.'

  'The devil! Are _we_ afloat?'

  'I think so still, but they made me shift.'

  'Think! Track her out! Pole her out! Cut those warps!'

  For a few strenuous minutes we toiled at the sweeps till the_Dulcibella_ was berthed ahead of the steamer, in deeper water.Meanwhile I had whispered a few facts.

  'How soon can you get under way?' I asked.

  'Ten minutes.'

  'When's daylight?'

  'Sunrise about seven, first dawn about five. Where are we bound?'

  'Holland, or England.'

  'Are they invading it now?' said Davies, calmly.

  'No, only rehearsing!' I laughed, wildly.

  'Then we can wait.'

  'We can wait exactly an hour and a half. Come ashore and knock upDollmann; we must denounce him, and get them both aboard; it's now ornever. Holy Saints! man, not as you are!' (He was in pyjamas.) 'Seaclothes!'

  While he put on Christian attire, I resumed my facts and sketched aplan. 'Are you watched?' I asked.

  'I think so; by the 'Kormoran's' men.'

  'Is the 'Kormoran' here?'

  'Yes.'

  'The men?'

  'Not to-night. Grimm called for them in that tug. I was watching.And, Carruthers, the _Blitz_ is here.'

  'Where?'

  'In the roads outside--didn't you see her?'

  'Wasn't looking. Her skipper's safe anyway; so's B?hme, so's theTertium Quid, and so are the 'Kormoran''s men. The coast's clear--it'snow or never.'

  Once more we were traversing the long jetty and the silent streets,rain driving at our backs. We trod on air, I think; I remember nofatigue. Davies sometimes broke into a little run, muttering'scoundrel' to himself.

  'I was right--only upside down,' he murmured more than once. 'Alwaysreally right--those channels are the key to the whole concern.Chatham, our only eastern base--no North Sea base or squadron--they'dland at one of those God-forsaken flats off the Crouch andBlackwater.'

  'It seems a wild scheme,' I observed.

  'Wild? In a way. So is _any_ invasion. But it's thorough; it'sGerman. No other country could do it. It's all dawning on me--byJove! It will be at the _Wash_--much the nearest, and as sandy asthis side.'

  'How's Dollmann been?' I asked.

  'Polite, but queer and jumpy. It's too long a story.'

  'Clara?'

  '_She's_ all right. By Jove! Carruthers--never mind.'

  We found a night-bell at the villa door and rang it lustily. A windowaloft opened, and 'A message from Commander von Br?ning--urgent,' Icalled up.

  The window shut, and soon after the hall was lighted and the dooropened by Dollmann in a dressing-gown.

  'Good morning, Lieutenant X----,' I said, in English. 'Stop, we'refriends, you fool!' as the door was flung nearly to. It opened veryslowly again, and we walked in.

  'Silence!' he hissed. The sweat stood on his steep forehead and ahectic flush on either cheek, but there was a smile--what asmile!--on his lips. Motioning us to tread noiselessly (a vain idealfor me), he led the way to the sitting-room we knew, switched on thelight, and faced us.

  'Well?' he said, in English, still smiling.

  I consulted my watch, and I may say that if my hand was an index tomy general appearance, I must have looked the most abject ruffianunder heaven.

  'We probably understand one another,' I said, 'and to explain is tolose time. We sail for Holland, or perhaps England, at five at thelatest, and we want the pleasure of your company. We promise youimmunity--on certain conditions, which can wait. We have only twoberths, so that we can only accommodate Miss Clara besides yourself.'He smiled on through this terse harangue, but the smile froze, asthough beneath it raged some crucial debate. Suddenly he laughed (alow, ironical laugh).

  'You fools,' he said, 'you confounded meddlesome young idiots; Ithought I had done with you. Promise me immunity? Give me till five?By God, I'll give you five minutes to be off to England and be damnedto you, or else to be locked up for spies! What the devil do you takeme for?'

  'A traitor in German service,' said Davies, none too firmly. We wereboth taken aback by this slashing attack.

  'A tr----? You pig-headed young marplots! I'm in _British_ service!You're wrecking the work of years--and on the very threshold ofsuccess.'

  For an instant Davies and I looked at one another in stupefaction. Helied--I could swear he lied; but how make sure?

  'Why did you try to wreck Davies?' said I, mechanically.

  'Pshaw! They made me clear him out. I knew he was safe, and safe heis.'

  There was only one thing for it--a last finesse, to put him to theproof.

  'Very well,' I said, after a moment or two, 'we'll clearout--silence, Davies!--as it appears we have acted in error; but it'sright to tell you that we know everything.'

  'Not so loud, curse you! What do you know?'

  'I was taking notes at Memmert the other night.'

  'Impossible!'

  'Thanks to Davies. Under difficulties, of course, but I heard quiteenough. You were reporting your English tour--Chatham, you know, andthe English scheme of attack, a mythical one, no doubt, as you're onthe right side! B?hme and the rest were dealing with the Germanscheme of defence A to G--I heard it all--the seven islands and theseven channels between them (Davies knows every one of them byheart); and then on land, the ring of railway, Esens the centre, thearmy corps to mobilize and entrench--all nugatory, wasted, ha!ha!--as you're on the right s----'

  'Not so loud, you fiend of mischief!' He turned his back, and made anirresolute pace or two towards the door, his hands kneading the foldsof his dressing-gown as they had kneaded the curtain at Memmert.Twice he began a question and twice broke off. 'I congratulate you,gentlemen,' he said, finally, and with more composure, facing usagain, 'you have done marvels in your misplaced zeal; but you havecompromised me too much already. I shall have to have youarrested--purely for form's sake----'

  'Thank you,' I broke in. 'We have wasted five minutes, and timepresses. We sail at five, and--purely for form's sake--would ratherhave you with us.'

  'What do you mean?' he snarled.

  'I had the advantage of _you_ at Memmert, in spite of acousticobstacles. Your friends made an appointment behind your back, and I,in my misplaced zeal, have taken some trouble to a
ttend it; so thatI've had a working demonstration on another matter, the invasion ofEngland from the seven _siels_.' (Davies nudged me.) 'No, I shouldlet that pistol alone; and no, I wouldn't ring the bell. You canarrest us if you like, but the secret's in safe hands.'

  'You lie!' He was right there; but he could not know it.

  'Do you suppose I haven't taken that precaution? But no names arementioned.' He gave a sort of groan, sank into a chair, and seemed toage and grizzle before our very eyes.

  'What did you say about immunity, and Clara?' he muttered. 'We'refriends--we're friends!' burst out Davies, with a gulp in his voice.'We want to help you both.' (Through a sudden mist that filmed myeyes I saw him impetuously walk over and lay his hand on the other'sshoulder.) 'Those chaps are on our track and yours. Come with us.Wake her, tell her. It'll be too late soon.'

  X---- shrank from his touch. 'Tell her? I can't tell her. You tell her,boy.' He was huddling back into his chair. Davies turned to me.

  'Where's her room?' I said, sharply.

  'Above this one.'

  'Go up, Carruthers,' said Davies.

  'Not I--I shall frighten her into a fit.'

  'I don't like to.'

  'Nonsense, man! We'll both go then.'

  'Don't make a noise,' said a dazed voice. We left that huddled figureand stole upstairs--thickly carpeted stairs, luckily. The door wewanted was half open, and the room behind it lighted. On thethreshold stood a slim white figure, bare-footed; bare-throated.

  'What is it, father?' she called in a whisper. 'Whom have you beentalking to?' I pushed Davies forward, but he hung back.

  'Hush, don't be frightened,' I said, 'it's I, Carruthers, andDavies--and Davies. May we come in, just for one moment?'

  I gently widened the opening of the door, while she stepped back andput one hand to her throat.

  'Please come to your father,' I said. 'We are going to take you bothto England in the _Dulcibella_--now, at once.'

  She had heard me, but her eyes wandered to Davies.

  'I understand not,' she faltered, trembling and cowering in suchtouching bewilderment that I could not bear to look at her.

  'For God's sake, say something, Davies,' I muttered.

  'Clara!' said Davies, 'will you not trust us?'

  I heard a little gasp from her. There was a flutter of lace andcambric and she was in his arms, sobbing like a tired child, herlittle white feet between his great clumsy sea-boots--her rose-browncheek on his rough jersey.

  'It's past four, old chap,' I remarked, brutally. 'I'm going down tohim again. No packing to speak of, mind. They must be out of this inhalf an hour.' I stumbled awkwardly on the stairs (again thattiresome film!) and found him stuffing some papers pell-mell into thestove. There were only slumbering embers in it, but he did not seemto notice that. 'You must be dressed in half an hour,' I said,furtively pocketing a pistol which lay on the table.

  'Have you told her? Take her to England, you two boys. I think I'llstay.' He sank into a chair again.

  'Nonsense, she won't go without you. You must, for her sake--in halfan hour, too.'

  I prefer to pass that half-hour lightly over. Davies left before meto prepare the yacht for sea, and I had to bear the brunt of whatfollowed, including (as a mere episode) a scene with the step-mother,the memory of which rankles in me yet. After all, she was a sensiblewoman.

  As for the other two, the girl when I saw her next, in her shortboating skirt and tam-o'-shanter, was a miracle of coolness andpluck. But for her I should never have got him away. And ah! how goodit was to be out in the wholesome rain again, hurrying to the harbourwith my two charges, hurrying them down the greasy ladder to thatfrail atom of English soil, their first guerdon of home and safety.

  Our flight from the harbour was unmolested, unnoticed. Only the firstghastly evidences of dawn were mingling with the strangled moonlight,as we tacked round the pier-head and headed close-reefed down theRiff Gat on the lees of the ebb-tide. We had to pass under the veryquarter of the _Blitz_, so Davies said; for, of course, he alone was ondeck till we reached the open sea. Day was breaking then. It was deadlow water, and, far away to the south, between dun swathes of sand, Ithought I saw--but probably it was only a fancy--two black strandedspecks. Rail awash, and decks streaming, we took the outer swell andclawed close-hauled under the lee of Juist, westward, hurryingwestward.

  'Up the Ems on the flood, and to Dutch Delfzyl,' I urged. No, thoughtDavies; it was too near Germany, and there was a tidal cut throughfrom Buse Tief. Better to dodge in behind Rottum Island. So on wepressed, past Memmert, over the Juister Reef and the _Corinne_'s buriedmillions, across the two broad and yeasty mouths of the Ems, tillRottum, a wee lonesome wafer of an islet, the first of the Dutcharchipelago, was close on the weather-bow.

  'We must get in behind that,' said Davies, 'then we shall be safe; Ithink I know the way, but get the next chart; and then take a rest,old chap. Clara and I can manage.' (She had been on deck most of thetime, as capable a hand as you could wish for, better far than I inmy present state of exhaustion.) I crawled along the slippery slopingplanks and went below.

  'Where are we?' cried Dollmann, starting up from the lee sofa, wherehe seemed to have been lying in a sort of trance. A book, his ownbook, slipped from his knees, and I saw the frontispiece lying on thefloor in a pool of oil; for the stove had gone adrift, and the saloonwas in a wretched state of squalor and litter.

  'Off Rottum,' I said, and knelt up to find the chart. There was alook in his eyes that I suppose I ought to have understood, but I canscarcely blame myself, for the accumulated strain, not only of thelast three days and nights, but of the whole arduous month of mycruise with Davies, was beginning to tell on me, now that safety andsuccess were at hand. I handed up the chart through the companion,and then crept into the reeling fo'c'sle and lay down on the sparesail-bags, with the thunder and thump of the seas around and aboveme.

  I must quote Davies for the event that happened now; for by the timeI had responded to the alarm and climbed up through the fore-hatch,the whole tragedy was over and done with.

  'X---- came up the companion,' he says, 'soon after you went down. Heheld on by the runner, and stared to windward at Rottum, as though heknew the place quite well. And then he came towards us, moving sounsteadily that I gave Clara the tiller, and went to help him. Itried to make him go down again, but he wouldn't, and came aft.

  "'Give me the helm," he said, half to himself. "Sea's too badoutside--there's a short cut here."

  "'Thanks," I said, "I know this one." (I don't think I meant to besarcastic.) He said nothing, and settled himself on the counterbehind us, safe enough, with his feet against the lee-rail, and then,to my astonishment, began to talk over my shoulder jolly sensiblyabout the course, pointing out a buoy which is wrong on the chart (asI knew), and telling me it was wrong, and so on. Well, we came to thebar of the Schild, and had to turn south for that twisty bit ofbeating between Rottum and Bosch Flat. Clara was at the jib-sheet, Ihad the chart and the tiller (you know how absent I get like that);there was a bobble of sea, and we both had heaps to do, and--well--Ihappened to look round, and he was gone. He hadn't spoken for aminute or two, but I believe the last thing I heard him say (I washardly attending at the time, for we were in the thick of it) wassomething about a "short cut" again. He must have slipped overquietly ... He had an ulster and big boots on.'

  We cruised about for a time, but never found him.

  That evening, after threading the maze of shoals between the Dutchmainland and islands, we anchored off the little hamlet of Ostmahorn,_[See Map A]_ gave the yacht in charge of some astonished fishermen,and thence by road and rail, hurrying still, gained Harlingen, andtook passage on a steamer to London. From that point our personalhistory is of no concern to the outside world, and here, therefore, Ibring this narrative to an end.

  Epilogue

  BY THE EDITOR

  [For this chapter see Map A.]

  AN interesting document, somewhat damaged by fire, lies on my studytabl
e.

  It is a copy (in cipher) of a confidential memorandum to the GermanGovernment embodying a scheme for the invasion of England by Germany.It is unsigned, but internal evidence, and the fact that it was takenby Mr 'Carruthers' from the stove of the villa at Norderney, leave nodoubt as to its authorship. For many reasons it is out of thequestion to print the textual translation of it, as deciphered; but Ipropose to give an outline of its contents.

  Even this must strain discretion to its uttermost limits, and had Ionly to consider the instructed few who follow the trend ofprofessional opinion on such subjects, I should leave the foregoingnarrative to speak for itself. But, as was stated in the preface, ourprimary purpose is to reach everyone; and there may be many who, inspite of able and authoritative warnings frequently uttered sincethese events occurred, are still prone to treat the German danger asan idle 'bogey', and may be disposed, in this case, to imagine that abaseless romance has been foisted on them.

  A few persons (English as well as German) hold that Germany is strongenough now to meet us single-handed, and throw an army on our shores.The memorandum rejects this view, deferring isolated action for atleast a decade; and supposing, for present purposes, a coalition ofthree Powers against Great Britain. And subsequent researches throughthe usual channels place it beyond dispute that this condition wasrelied on by the German Government in adopting the scheme. Theyrealized that even if, owing to our widely scattered forces, theygained that temporary command of the North Sea which would beessential for a successful landing, they would inevitably lose itwhen our standing fleets were concentrated and our reserve shipsmobilized. With its sea-communications cut, the prospects of theinvading army would be too dubious. I state it in that mild way, forit seems not to have been held that failure was absolutely certain;and rightly, I think, in spite of the dogmas of the strategists--forthe ease transcends all experience. No man can calculate the effecton our delicate economic fabric of a well-timed, well-planned blow atthe industrial heart of the kingdom, the great northern and midlandtowns, with their teeming populations of peaceful wage-earners. Inthis instance, however, joint action (the occasion for which isperhaps not difficult to guess) was distinctly contemplated, andGermany's _r?le_ in the coalition was exclusively that of invader.Her fleet was to be kept intact, and she herself to remain ostensiblyneutral until the first shock was over, and our own battle-fleetseither beaten, or, the much more likely event, so crippled by ahard-won victory as to be incapable of withstanding compact andunscathed forces. Then, holding the balance of power, she wouldstrike. And the blow? It was not till I read this memorandum that Igrasped the full merits of that daring scheme, under which everyadvantage, moral, material, and geographical, possessed by Germany,is utilized to the utmost, and every disadvantage of our own turnedto account against us.

  Two root principles pervade it: perfect organization; perfectsecrecy. Under the first head come some general considerations. Thewriter (who is intimately conversant with conditions on both sides ofthe North Sea) argued that Germany is pre-eminently fitted toundertake an invasion of Great Britain. She has a great army (a merefraction of which would suffice) in a state of high efficiency, but auseless weapon, as against us, unless transported over seas. She hasa peculiar genius for organization, not only in elaborating minutedetail, but in the grasp of a coherent whole. She knows the art ofgiving a brain to a machine, of transmitting power to the uttermostcog-wheel, and at the same time of concentrating responsibility in asupreme centre. She has a small navy, but very effective for itspurpose, built, trained, and manned on methodical principles, fordefined ends, and backed by an inexhaustible reserve of men from hermaritime conscription. She studies and practises co-operation betweenher army and navy. Her hands are free for offence in home waters,since she has no distant network of coveted colonies and dependencieson which to dissipate her defensive energies. Finally, she is,compared with ourselves, economically independent, having commercialaccess through her land frontiers to the whole of Europe. She haslittle to lose and much to gain.

  The writer pauses here to contrast our own situation, and I summarizehis points. We have a small army, dispersed over the whole globe, andadministered on a gravely defective system. We have no settled theoryof national defence, and no competent authority whose business it isto give us one. The matter is still at the stage of civiliancontroversy. Co-operation between the army and navy is not studiedand practised; much less do there exist any plans, worthy of thename, for the repulse of an invasion, or any readiness worthconsidering for the prompt equipment and direction of our home forcesto meet a sudden emergency. We have a great and, in many respects, amagnificent navy, but not great enough for the interests it insures,and with equally defective institutions; not built or mannedmethodically, having an utterly inadequate reserve of men, allclasses of which would be absorbed at the very outset, without avestige of preparation for the enrolment of volunteers; distracted bythe multiplicity of its functions in guarding our colossal empire andcommerce, and conspicuously lacking a brain, not merely for thesmooth control of its own unwieldy mechanism, but for the study ofrival aims and systems. We have no North Sea naval base, no North SeaFleet, and no North Sea policy. Lastly, we stand in a highlydangerous economical position.

  The writer then deals with the method of invasion, and rejects theobvious one at once, that of sending forth a fleet of transports fromone or more of the North Sea ports. He combats especially the idea ofmaking Emden (the nearest to our shores) the port of departure. Imention this because, since his own scheme was adopted, it isinstructive to note that Emden had been used (with caution) as a redherring by the inspired German press, when the subject was mentionedat all, and industriously dragged across the trail. His objections tothe North Sea ports apply, he remarks, in reality to all schemes ofinvasion, whether the conditions be favourable or not. One is thatsecrecy is rendered impossible--and secrecy is vital. The collectionof the transports would be known in England weeks before the hour wasripe for striking; for all large ports are cosmopolitan and swarmwith potential spies. In Germany's case, moreover, suitable ships arenone too plentiful, and the number required would entail a largededuction from her mercantile marine. The other reason concerns theactual landing. This must take place on an open part of the eastcoast of England. No other objective is even considered. Now thedifficulty of transshipping and landing troops by boats fromtransports anchored in deep water, in a safe, swift, and orderlyfashion, on an open beach, is enormous. The most hastily improvisedresistance might cause a humiliating disaster. Yet the first stage isthe most important of all. It is imperative that the invaders shouldseize and promptly intrench a pre-arranged line of country, to serveas an initial base. This once done, they can use other resources;they can bring up transports, land cavalry and heavy guns, pour instores, and advance. But unless this is done, they are impotent, betheir sea-communications never so secure.

  The only logical alternative is then propounded: to despatch an armyof infantry with the lightest type of field-guns in big sea-goinglighters, towed by powerful but shallow-draught tugs, under escort ofa powerful composite squadron of warships; and to fling the flotilla,at high tide, if possible, straight upon the shore.

  Such an expedition could be prepared in absolute secrecy, by turningto account the natural features of the German coast. No great portwas to be concerned in any way. All that was required was sufficientdepth of water to float the lighters and tugs; and this is suppliedby seven insignificant streams, issuing from the Frisian littoral,and already furnished with small harbours and sluice-gates, with oneexception, namely, the tidal creek at Norden; for this, it appeared,was one of the chosen seven, and not, as 'Carruthers' supposed,Hilgenriedersiel, which, if you remember, he had no time to visit,and which has, in fact, no stream of any value at all, and noharbour. All of these streams would have to be improved, deepened,and generally canalized; ostensibly with a commercial end, forpurposes of traffic with the islands, which are growing healthresorts during a limited summer season.

>   The whole expedition would be organized under seven distinctsub-divisions--not too great a number in view of its cumbrouscharacter. Seawards, the whole of the coast is veiled by the fringeof islands and the zone of shoals. Landwards, the loop of railwayround the Frisian peninsula would form the line of communication inrear of the seven streams. Esens was to be the local centre ofadministration when the scheme grew to maturity, but not till then.Every detail for the movement of troops under the seven differentheads was to be arranged for with secrecy and exactitude many monthsin advance, and from headquarters at Berlin. It was not expected thatnothing would leak out, but care was to be taken that anything thatdid do so should be attributed to defensive measures--a standingfeature in German mobilization being the establishment of a corps ofobservation along the Frisian coast; in fact, the same machinery wasto be used, and its conversion for offence concealed up to the latestpossible moment. The same precautions were to be taken in thepreliminary work on the spot. There, four men only (it wascalculated) need be in full possession of the secret. One was torepresent the Imperial Navy (a post filled by our friend vonBr?ning). Another (B?hme) was to superintend the six canals and theconstruction of the lighters. The functions of the third weretwofold. He was to organize what I may call the local labour--thatis, the helpers required for embarkation, the crews of the tugs, and,most important of all, the service of pilots for the navigation ofthe seven flotillas through the corresponding channels to the opensea. He must be a local man, thoroughly acquainted with the coast, ofa social standing not much above the average of villagers andfishermen, and he must be ready when the time was ripe with lists ofthe right men for the right duties, lists to which the conscriptionauthorities could when required, give instant legal effect. His otherfunction was to police the coast for spies, and to report anythingsuspicious to von Br?ning, who would never be far away. On the wholeI think that they found the grim Grimm a jewel for their purpose.

  As fourth personage, the writer designates himself, the promoter ofthe scheme, the indispensable link between the two nations. Heundertakes to furnish reliable information as to the disposition oftroops in England, as to the hydrography of the coast selected forthe landing, as to the supplies available in its vicinity, and thestrategic points to be seized. He proposes to be guide-in-chief tothe expedition during transit. And in the meantime (when nototherwise employed) he was to reside at Norderney, in close touchwith the other three, and controlling the commercial undertakingswhich were to throw dust in the eyes of the curious. [Memmert, by theway, is not mentioned in this memorandum.]

  He speaks of the place 'selected for the landing', and proceeds toconsider this question in detail. I cannot follow him in his review,deeply interesting though it is, and shall say at once that hereduces possible landing-places to two, the flats on the Essex coastbetween Foulness and Brightlingsea, and the Wash--with a decidedpreference for the latter. Assuming that the enemy, if they got windof an invasion at all, would expect transports to be employed, hechooses the sort of spot which they would be least likely to defend,and which, nevertheless, was suitable to the character of theflotillas, and similar to the region they started from. There is sucha spot on the Lincolnshire coast, on the north side of the Wash,_[See Map A]_ known as East Holland. It is low-lying land, dykedagainst the sea, and bordered like Frisia with sand-flats which dryoff at low water. It is easy of access from the east, by way ofBoston Deeps, a deep-water channel formed by a detached bank, calledthe Long Sand, lying parallel to the shore for ten miles. This bankmakes a natural breakwater against the swell from the east (the onlyquarter to be feared); and the Deeps behind it, where there is anaverage depth of thirty-four feet at low-water, would form anexcellent roadstead for the covering squadron, whose guns wouldcommand the shore within easy range. It is noted in passing that thisis just the case where German first-class battleships would have anadvantage over British ships of the same calibre. The latter are ofjust too heavy a draught to navigate such waters without peril, if,indeed, they could enter this roadstead at all, for there is a bar atthe mouth of it with only thirty-one feet at high water, springtides. The former, built as they were with a view to manoeuvring inthe North Sea, are just within the margin of safety. East Holland iswithin easy striking distance of the manufacturing districts, avigorous raid on which is, the writer urges, the true policy of aninvader. He reports positively that there exist (in a proper militarysense) no preparations whatever to meet such an attack. East Hollandis also the nearest point on the British shores to Germany, exceptingthe coast of Norfolk; much nearer, indeed, than the Essex flatsalluded to, and reached by a simple deep-sea passage, without anydangerous region to navigate, like the mouth of the Channel and theestuary of the Thames from Harwich westwards. The distance is 240sea-miles, west by south roughly, from Borkum Island, and 280 fromWangeroog. The time estimated for transit after the flotillas hadbeen assembled outside the islands is from thirty to thirty-fourhours.

  Embarkation is the next topic. This could and must be effected in onetide. At the six _siels_ there was a mean period of two and a halfhours in every twelve, during which the water was high enough. AtNorden a rather longer time was available. But this should be amplysufficient if the machinery were in good working order and werepunctually set in motion. High water occurs approximately at the sametime at all seven outlets, the difference between the two farthestapart, Carolinensiel and Greetsiel, being only half an hour.

  Lastly, the special risks attendant on such an expedition aredispassionately weighed. X----, though keenly anxious to recommend hisscheme, writes in no blindly sanguine spirit. There are no modernprecedents for any invasion in the least degree comparable to that ofEngland by Germany. Any such attempt will be a hazardous experiment.But he argues that the advantages of his method outweigh the risks,and that most of the risks themselves would attach equally to anyother method. Whatever skill in prediction was used, bad weathermight overtake the expedition. Yes; but if transports were usedtranshipment into boats for landing would in bad weather be fraughtwith the same and a greater peril. But transports could stand off andwait. Delay is fatal in any case; unswerving promptitude is theessence of such an enterprise. The lighters would be in danger offoundering? Beside the point; if the end is worth gaining the risksmust be faced. Soldiers' lives are sacrificed in tens of thousands onbattlefields. The flotilla would be demoralized during transit by theassault of a few torpedo-boats? Granted; but the same would apply toa fleet of transports, with the added certainty that one lucky shotwould send to the bottom ten times the number of soldiers, with lesshope of rescue. In both cases reliance must be placed on theefficiency and vigilance of the escort. It is admitted, however, in apassage which might well make my two adventurers glow with triumph,that if by any mischance the British discovered what was afoot ingood time, and were able to send over a swarm of light-draught boats,which could elude the German warships and get amongst the flotillaswhile they were still in process of leaving the siels; it is admittedthat in that case the expedition was doomed. But it is held that suchan event was not to be feared. Reckless pluck is abundant in theBritish Navy, but expert knowledge of the tides and shoals in thesewaters is utterly lacking. The British charts are of no value, andthere is no evidence (he reports) that the subject has been studiedin any way by the British Admiralty. Let me remark here, that Ibelieve Mr 'Davies's' views, as expressed in the earlier chapters,when they were still among the great estuaries, are all absolutelysound. The 'channel theory', though it only bore indirectly on thegrand issue before them, was true, and should be laid to heart, or Ishould not have wasted space on it.

  One word more, in conclusion. There is an axiom, much in fashion now,that there is no fear of an invasion of the British Isles, because ifwe lose command of the sea, we can be starved--a cheaper and surerway of reducing us to submission. It is a loose, valueless axiom, butby sheer repetition it is becoming an article of faith. It impliesthat 'command of the sea' is a thing to be won or lost definitely;that we may have it to-day and lose it
for ever to-morrow. On thecontrary, the chances are that in anything like an even struggle thecommand of the sea will hang in the balance for an indefinite time.And even against great odds, it would probably be impossible for ourenemies so to bar the avenues of our commerce, so to blockade theports of our extensive coast-line, and so to overcome the interestwhich neutrals will have in supplying us, as to bring us to our kneesin less than two years, during which time we can be recuperating andrebuilding from our unique internal resources, and endeavouring toregain command.

  No; the better axiom is that nothing short of a successful invasioncould finally compel us to make peace. Our hearts are stout, we hope;but facts are facts; and a successful raid, such as that heresketched, if you will think out its consequences, must appal thestoutest heart. It was checkmated, but others may be conceived. Inany case, we know the way in which they look at these things inGermany.

  Postscript (March 1903)

  IT so happens that while this book was in the press a number ofmeasures have been taken by the Government to counteract some of thevery weaknesses and dangers which are alluded to above. A Committeeof National Defence has been set up, and the welcome given to it wasa truly extraordinary comment on the apathy and confusion which it isdesigned to supplant. A site on the Forth has been selected for a newNorth Sea naval base--an excellent if tardy decision; for ten yearsor so must elapse before the existing anchorage becomes in any sensea 'base'. A North Sea fleet has also been created--another goodmeasure; but it should be remembered that its ships are not modern,or in the least capable of meeting the principal German squadronsunder the circumstances supposed above.

  Lastly, a Manning Committee has (among other matters) reportedvaguely in favour of a Volunteer Reserve. There is no means ofknowing what this recommendation will lead to; let us hope not to thefiasco of the last badly conceived experiment. Is it not becomingpatent that the time has come for training all Englishmensystematically either for the sea or for the rifle?