In the Track of the Troops

Chapter Four.

A Day with the Torpedoes

The sentence with which I finished the last chapter appears to me essential, because what I am now about to describe may seem to many readers more like the dreams of fancy than the details of sober fact.

When my mother and I, with Nicholas and Bella, arrived at Portsmouth, we were met by my naval friend, a young lieutenant, who seemed to me the beau-idéal of an embryo naval hero. He was about the middle height, broad, lithe, athletic, handsome, with a countenance beaming with good-will to, and belief in, everybody, including himself. He was self-possessed; impressively attentive to ladies, both young and old, and suave to gentlemen; healthy as a wild stag, and happy as a young cricket, with a budding moustache and a “fluff” on either cheek. Though gentle as a lamb in peace, he was said to be a very demon in war, and bore the not inappropriate name of Firebrand.

“Allow me to introduce my friend, Lieutenant Naranovitsch, Mr Firebrand, my mother and sister; not too late, I hope,” said I, shaking hands.

“Not at all. In capital time,” replied the young fellow, gaily, as he bowed to each. “Allow me, Mrs Childers—take my arm. The boat is not far off.”

“Boat!” exclaimed my mother, “must we then go to sea?”

“Not exactly,” replied Firebrand, with a light laugh, “unless you dignify Portchester Creek by that name. The Nettle target-ship lies there, and we must go on board of her, as it is around and in connection with her that the various experiments are to be tried, by means of gunboats, launches, steam-pinnaces, and various other kinds of small craft.”

“How very fortunate that you have such a charming day,” said my mother, whose interest was at once aroused by the youth’s cheery manner. “Do you expect many people to witness the experiments, Mr Firebrand?”

“About five hundred invitations have been issued,” answered the lieutenant, “and I daresay most of those invited will come. It is an occasion of some importance, being the termination of the senior course of instruction in our Naval Torpedo School here. I am happy to think,” he added, with an arch smile, “that an officer of the Russian army will have such a good opportunity of witnessing what England is preparing for her enemies.”

“It will afford me the greatest pleasure to witness your experiments,” replied Nicholas, returning the smile with interest, “all the more that England and Russia are now the best of friends, and shall, I hope, never again be enemies.”

In a few minutes we were conveyed on board the Nettle, on whose deck was a most animated assemblage. Not only were there present hundreds of gaily-dressed visitors, and officers, both naval and military, in bright and varied uniforms, but also a number of Chinese students, whose gaudy and peculiar garments added novelty as well as brilliancy to the scene.

“Delightful!” murmured Bella, as she listened to the sweet strains of the Commander-in-chief’s band, and gazed dreamily at the sun-flashes that danced on the glassy water.

“Paradise!” replied Naranovitsch, looking down into her eyes.

“What are they going to do?” asked my mother of young Firebrand, who kept possession of her during the whole of the proceedings, and explained everything.

“They are going to illustrate the application of torpedo science to offensive and defensive warfare,” said the lieutenant; and just now I see they are about to send off an outrigger launch to make an attack with two torpedoes, one on either bow, each being filled with 100 pounds of gunpowder. Sometimes gun-cotton is used, but this 100 pounds charge of powder is quite sufficient to send the vessel in which we stand to the bottom in five or ten minutes. Come this way—we shall see the operations better from this point. Now, don’t be alarmed, there is not the slightest danger, I assure you.

He spoke in reassuring tones, and led my mother to the side of the ship, whither I followed them, and became at once absorbed in what was going on.

The outrigger launch referred to was a goodly-sized boat, fitted with a small engine and screw propeller. Its chief peculiarities were two long poles or spars, which lay along its sides, projecting beyond the bows. These were the outriggers. At the projecting end of each spar was fixed an iron case, bearing some resemblance in shape and size to an elongated kettle-drum. These were the torpedoes. I heard the lieutenant explain to my mother that if one of these torpedoes chanced to explode where it hung, it would blow the boat and men to atoms. To which my mother replied, “Horrible!” and asked how, in that case, the crew could fire it and escape. Whereupon he responded, “You shall see presently.”

Another peculiarity in the launch was that it had a species of iron hood or shield, like a broad and low sentry-box, from behind which protection the few men who formed her crew could steer and work the outriggers and the galvanic battery, without being exposed.

This little boat seemed to me like a vicious wasp, as it left the side of the ship with a rapid throbbing of its engine and twirling of its miniature screw.

When at a sufficient distance from the ship, an order was given by the officer in charge. Immediately the outrigger on the right or starboard side was run out by invisible hands to its full extent—apparently fifteen feet beyond the bow of the launch; then the inner end of the outrigger was tilted violently into the air, so that the other end with its torpedo was thrust down ten feet below the surface of the water. This, I was told, is about the depth at which an enemy’s ship ought to be struck. The launch, still going at full speed, was now supposed to have run so close to the enemy, that the submerged torpedo was about to strike her. Another order was given. The operator gave the needful touch to the galvanic battery, which, like the most faithful of servants, instantly sent a spark to fire the torpedo.

The result was tremendous. A column of seething mud and water, twenty feet in diameter, shot full thirty feet into the air, overwhelming the launch in such a shower that many of the unprofessional spectators imagined she was lost. Thus an imaginary ironclad was sent, with a tremendous hole in her, to the bottom of the sea.

That this is no imaginary result will be seen in the sequel of our tale.

“Why, the shock has made the Nettle herself tremble!” I exclaimed, in surprise.

“Oh, the poor boat!” cried my mother.

“No fear of the boat,” said young Firebrand, “and as to the Nettle—why, my good fellow, I have felt our greatest ironclad, the mighty Thunderer, of which I have the honour to be an officer, quiver slightly from the explosion of a mere five-pounds torpedo discharged close alongside. Few people have an adequate conception of the power of explosives, and still fewer, I believe, understand the nature of the powers by which they are at all times surrounded. That 100-pounds torpedo, for instance, which has only caused us to quiver, would have blown a hole in our most powerful ship if fired in contact with it, and yet the cushion of water between it and the tiny launch that fired it is so tough as to be quite a sufficient protection to the boat, as you see.”

We did indeed “see,” for the waspish little boat emerged from the deluge she had raised and, steaming swiftly on, turned round and retraced her track. On reaching about the same position as to the Nettle, she repeated the experiment with her second torpedo.

“Splendid!” exclaimed young Naranovitsch, whose military ardour was aroused.

“It means, does it not,” said Bella, “a splendid ship destroyed, and some hundreds of lives lost?”

“Well—yes—” said Nicholas, hesitatingly; “but of course it does not always follow, you know, that so many lives—”

He paused, and smiled with a perplexed look. Bella smiled dubiously, and shook her head, for it did not appear to either of them that the exact number of lives lost had much to do with the question. A sudden movement of the visitors to the other side of the ship stopped the conversation.

They were now preparing to show the effect of a gun-cotton hand-grenade; in other words, a species of bomb-shell, meant to be thrown by the hand into an enemy’s boat at close-quarters. This really tremendous weapon was an innocent-looking disc or circlet of gun-cotton, weighing not more than eight ounces. Innocent it would, in truth, have been but for the little detonator in its heart, without which it would only have burned, not exploded. Attached to this disc was an instantaneous fuse of some length, so that an operator could throw the disc into a passing boat, and then fire the fuse, which would instantly explode the disc.

All this was carefully explained by Firebrand to my astonished mother, while the disc, for experimental purposes, was being placed in a cask floating in the water. On the fuse being fired, this cask was blown “into matchwood”—a wreck so complete that the most ignorant spectator could not fail to understand what would have been the fate of a boat and its crew in similar circumstances.

“How very awful!” said my mother. “Pray, Mr Firebrand, what is gun-worsted—I mean cotton.”

The young lieutenant smiled rather broadly as he explained, in a glib and slightly sing-song tone, which savoured of the Woolwich Military Academy, that, “gun-cotton is the name given to the explosive substance produced by the action of nitric acid mixed with sulphuric acid, on cotton fibre.” He was going to add, “It contains carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen, corresponding to—” when my mother stopped him.

“Dear me, Mr Firebrand, is a popular explanation impossible?”

“Not impossible, madam, but rather difficult. Let me see. Gun-cotton is a chemical compound of the elements which I have just named—a chemical compound, you will observe, not a mechanical mixture, like gunpowder. Hence it explodes more rapidly than the latter, and its power is from three to six times greater.”

My mother looked perplexed. “What is the difference,” she asked, “between a chemical compound and a mechanical mixture?”

Firebrand now in his turn looked perplexed. “Why, madam,” he exclaimed, in modulated desperation, “the ultimate molecules of a mixture are only placed beside each other, so that an atom of gunpowder may be saltpetre, charcoal, or sulphur, dependent on its fellow-atoms for power to act; whereas a chemical compound is such a perfect union of substances, that each ultimate molecule is complete in its definite proportions of the four elements, and therefore an independent little atom.”

“Now, the next experiment,” continued Firebrand, glad to have an opportunity of changing the subject, “is meant to illustrate our method of countermining. You must know that our enemies may sometimes sink torpedoes at the entrance of their harbours, to prevent our ships of war entering. Such torpedoes consist usually of casks or cases of explosives, which are fired either by electric wires, like the telegraph, when ships are seen to be passing over them, or by contact. That is to say, an enemy’s ship entering a harbour runs against something which sets something else in motion, which explodes the torpedo and blows it and the ship into what natives of the Green Isle call smithereens. This is very satisfactory when it happens to an enemy, but not when it happens to one’s-self, therefore when we have to enter an enemy’s harbour we countermine. This operation is now about to be illustrated. The last experiments exhibited the power of offensive torpedoes. There are several different kinds, such as Mr Whitehead’s fish-torpedo, the Harvey torpedo, and others.”

“Dear me,” said my mother, with a perplexed air, “I should have thought, Mr Firebrand, that all torpedoes were offensive.”

“By no means; those which are placed at the entrance of harbours and navigable rivers are defensive. To protect ourselves from the offensive weapon, we use crinolines.”

My mother looked quickly up at her polite young mentor. “You play with the ignorance of an old woman, sir,” she said, with a half-jocular air.

“Indeed I do not, madam, I assure you,” returned Firebrand, with much earnestness. “Every iron-clad is provided with a crinoline, which is a powerful iron network, hung all round the ship at some distance from her, like—pardon me—a lady’s crinoline, and is intended to intercept any torpedo that may be discharged against her.”

Attention was called, at this point, to the counter-mining experiments.

It may be said, in regard to these, that they can be conducted in various ways, but always with the same end in view, namely, to destroy an enemy’s mines by exploding others in their midst.

For the sake of illustration, it was supposed that the surrounding sea-bottom was studded with invisible torpedoes, and that the Nettle was a warship, determined to advance into the enemy’s harbour. To effect this with safety, and in order to clear away the supposed sunken torpedoes, a counter-torpedo was floated between two empty casks, and sent off floating in the desired direction by means of the tide. This countermine consisted of an iron cylinder, containing 300 pounds of powder, and was electrically connected with the Nettle. A small charge of gun-cotton was fixed to the suspender that held the torpedo to its casks. When at a safe distance from the ship, this charge was fired. It cut the suspender and let the torpedo sink to the bottom. There it was exploded with terrific violence, as was quickly shown by the mighty fountain of mud, water, and smoke that instantly shot up into the air. It has been proved by experiment that 500 pounds of gun-cotton exploded below water, will destroy all the torpedoes that lie within a radius of 120 yards. It is obvious, therefore, that a warship could advance into the space thus cleared and then send a second countermine ahead of her in the same way. If neither tide, current, nor wind will serve to drift the casks, the operation might be accomplished by a small boat, which could back out of danger after laying each torpedo, and thus, step by step, or shot by shot, the advance could be made in safety through the enemy’s defences.

After this, twelve small charges of gun-cotton were sunk in various directions, each representing a countermine of 500 pounds. These were discharged simultaneously, to demonstrate the possibility of extending the operations over a wide area. These miniature charges were sent down in small nets, and were quite unprotected from the water, so that the gun-cotton was wet when fired.

This fact caught the attention of my mother at once.

“How can it go off when wet?” she exclaimed, turning her bright little eyes in astonishment on her young companion.

“Ha, that is one of the strange peculiarities of gun-cotton,” replied Firebrand, with an amused look; “you don’t require to keep it dry like powder. It is only necessary that there should be one small lump of dry gun-cotton inside the wet stuff, with a detonator in its heart. A detonator, you must know—”

“Oh, I know what a detonator is,” said my mother, quickly.

“Well then,” continued Firebrand, “the exploding of the detonator and the dry disc causes the wet gun-cotton also to go off, as you have seen. Now they are going to exhibit one of the modes of defending harbours. They have sunk four mines, of 300 pounds of gunpowder each, not far from where you see yon black specks floating on the water. The black specks are buoys, called circuit-closers, because they contain a delicate contrivance—a compound of mechanism and galvanism—which, when the buoys are bumped, close the electric circuit and cause the mine to explode. Thus when a ship-of-war sails against one of these circuit-closers, she is immediately blown up.”

“Is not that rather a sneaking way of killing one’s enemies?” asked my mother.

Young Firebrand laughed, and admitted that it was, but pleaded that everything was fair in love and war.

In actual warfare the circuit-closers are placed just over the mines which they are designed to explode, but for safety on this occasion they were placed at a safe distance from their respective mines. A steam-launch was used to bump them, and a prodigious upheaval of water on each explosion showed clearly enough what would have been the fate of an iron-clad if she had been over the mine.

“Oh, shade of Nelson!” I could not help exclaiming, “how shocked you must be if you are permitted to witness such methods of conducting war.”

“Ah, yes!” sighed Firebrand; “the bubble reputation, you see, is being transferred from the cannon’s mouth to the torpedo.”

I made no reply, for my mind reverted to my laboratory in Devonshire, where lay the working-model of the terrible weapon I had spent so much time in perfecting. It seemed strange to me now, that, in the eager pursuit of a scientific object, I had scarcely ever, if at all, reflected on the dire results that the use of my torpedo involved, and I felt as if I were really guilty of the intent to murder. Just before leaving home I had charged my model, which was quite a large one, capable of holding about 50 pounds of dynamite, in the hope that I might prevail on the First Lord of the Admiralty and some of his colleagues to come down and see it actually fired. I now resolved to throw the dynamite into the sea, break up my model, and have done with explosives for ever.

While my mind was running on this, I was startled by an explosion close alongside. On turning towards the side of the ship, I found that it was caused by the rending of a huge iron chain, the links of which were more than one and a quarter inch in thickness. This powerful cable, which could have held an iron-clad, was snapped in twain like a piece of thread by the explosion against it of only two and a half pounds of gun-cotton.

“Very well done,” I said to Firebrand, “but I think that a much smaller quantity of dynamite would have done it as effectively.”

“Now, Mrs Childers,” said the young lieutenant, “the last experiment is about to be made, and I think it will interest you even more than the others. See, they are about to send off the electrical steam-pinnace.”

As he spoke, a boat was being prepared alongside the ship.

“Why!” exclaimed my mother, almost speechless with surprise, “they have forgotten to send its crew in it.”

“No, madam,” said Firebrand, with one of his blandest smiles, “they have not forgotten her crew, but there are services so dangerous, that although the courage of the British sailor will of course enable him to face anything, it has been thought advisable not to put it to too severe a test, hence this automatic boat has been invented. It is steered, and all its other operations are performed, by means of electricity, applied not on board the boat but on board of the Nettle.”

This was indeed the case. The electric pinnace went off as he spoke, her steam-engines, steering-gear, and all the other apparatus being regulated by electric wires, which were “paid out” from the ship as the boat proceeded on her mission of supposed extreme danger. Right under the withering fire of the imaginary enemy’s batteries she went, and having scorned the rain of small shot that swept over her like hail, and escaped the plunging heavy shot that fell on every side, she dropped a mine over her stern, exploded it by means of a slow fuse, turned round and steamed back in triumph, amid the cheers of the spectators.

This last was really a marvellous sight, and the little boat seemed indeed to deserve the encomiums of Firebrand, who said, that, “If cool, calm pluck, in the face of appalling danger, merited anything, that heroic little steam-pinnace ought to receive the Victoria Cross.”

I was still meditating on this subject, and listening to the animated comments going on around me, when I myself received a shock, compared to which all the explosions I had that day witnessed were as nothing.

It suddenly recurred to my memory that I had left a compound in my laboratory at home in a state of chemical preparation, which required watching to prevent its catching fire at a certain part of the process. I had been called away from that compound suddenly by Nicholas, just before we left for London, and I had been so taken up with what he had to tell me, that I had totally forgotten it. The mere burning of this compound would, in itself, have been nothing, for my laboratory was an old out-house, quite unconnected with the dwelling; but in the laboratory also lay my torpedo! The worst of it was that I had inserted a detonator and affixed a fuse, feeling quite secure in doing so, because I invariably locked the door and carried the key in my pocket.

My face must have turned very pale, for Nicholas, who came up at the moment, looked at me with anxious surprise, and asked if I were ill.

“No,” said I, hurriedly; “no, not ill—but—yes—it is a slow process at best, and not always certain—sometimes takes a day or two to culminate. The fusion may not have been quite completed, or it may have failed altogether. Too late, I fear, too late, but I cannot rest till I know. Tell my mother I’m off home—only business—don’t alarm her.”

Regardless of the amazed looks of those who stood near me, I broke from the grasp of Nicholas, leaped into one of the boats alongside, seized the oars, and rowed ashore in mad haste.

Fortune favoured me. The train had not left, though it was just in motion. I had no time to take a ticket, but leaping upon the moving footboard, I wrenched open a carriage-door and sprang in.

It was an express. We went at full sixty miles an hour, yet I felt as if we moved like a snail. No words can adequately explain the state of my mind and body—the almost uncontrollable desire I felt to spring out of the train and run on ahead. But I was forced to sit still and think. I thought of the nearness of the laboratory to our kitchen windows, of the tremendous energy of the explosive with which the model-torpedo was charged, of the mass of combustibles of all kinds by which it was surrounded, of the thousand and one possibilities of the case, and of my own inexcusable madness in not being more careful.

At last the train pulled up at the town from which our residence is about two miles distant. It was now evening; but it was summer, and the days were long. Hiring a horse at the nearest hotel, I set off at a break-neck gallop.

The avenue-gate was open. I dashed in. The laboratory was not visible from that point, being at the back of the house. At the front door I pulled up, sprang to the ground, let the horse go, and ran forward.

I was met by Lancey coming round the corner. I saw at once that all was over! His face and hands had been scorched, and his hair singed! I gasped for breath.

“No one killed?” I asked.

“No, sir, nobody killed, but most of us ’orribly scared, sir.”

“Nobody hurt, Lancey?” I asked again, leaning against the side of the house, and wiping my forehead.

“No, sir, nor ’urt,” continued my faithful groom, hastening to relieve my mind; “you’ve no need to alarm yourself, sir, for we’re all alive and ’earty, though I must say it’s about the wust buster, sir, that you’ve yet turned out of ’ands. It sent in the kitchen winders as if they’d bin made of tissue paper, sir, an’ cook she went into highstericks in the coal-bunker, Margaret she swounded in the scullery, and Mary went into fits in the wash’us. But they’re all right again, sir,—only raither skeery ever since. We ’ad some trouble in puttin’ it out, for the cumbustibles didn’t seem to care much for water. We got it under at last, early this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Yes, sir. It blow’d up about two hours arter you left for London, an’ we’ve bin at it ever since. We was so glad your mother was away, sir, for it did make an uncommon crack. I was just sayin’ to cook, not ’alf an hour since, the master would have enjoyed that, he would; it was such a crusher.”