SNEAKING OFF THROUGH THE DARK

In the dark hour preceding dawn on Thursday the British destroyers Botha (Commander Roger L’E. M. Rede, R.N.) and Morris (Lieut.-commander Percy R, P. Percival, R.N.) and three French destroyers – Mehl, Magon, and Bouclier – were on patrol in the eastern waters of the Channel, when a sudden outburst of firing was heard to the north. Vivid flashes of gunfire out to sea made it plain that the enemy was engaged upon a futile bombardment of the crumbling bathing-sheds of deserted French watering-places. The Allied force promptly made for the flashes at full speed, led by Botha; star-shell fired in an endeavour to light up the enemy and obtain their range, however, merely had the effect of quelling the bombardment and scattering the raiders, who were never seen again. The patrol proceeded to search to the north-west in the hope of intercepting any divisions of the enemy who had ventured more into mid-channel. Star-shell were fired at intervals, for the night was misty, and presently one of these, bursting ahead, revealed the shadowy outline of a force of enemy destroyers and torpedo-boats sneaking off through the darkness in the direction of their base. The Botha challenged, and an unfamiliar reply winked at them out of the night: the next instant, British and French were pouring a heavy fire into the enemy. For a few minutes a grim little fight ensued. The Allies rapidly overhauled the raiders and set the darkness ablaze with flashes of gunfire and blazing wreckage flying broadcast from shells bursting on impact. A running fight between torpedo craft is like a battle between scorpions; whichever gets a sting home first rarely has need to strike again. None of the German torpedoes found their mark, but the Morris, emerging from a smoke screen flung out by the fleeing enemy, cut off a German destroyer of a large type and torpedoed her at 500 yards’ range. She blew up and sank almost immediately, heeling over amid clouds of steam and vanishing stern first. In the meanwhile, Botha’s main steampipe had been severed by a stray shell, and she immediately commenced to lose her way through the water. Her commander, realising that if he was to finish his “cup of tea with the Hun”, he must needs drink it quickly, fired both torpedoes at the leading boats and, putting his helm hard over, rammed the fourth boat in the line cleanly amidships. His speed had dropped considerably, but it sufficed to drive the knife-edged bows of the Botha clean through, cutting the enemy completely in half. Botha then swung round and attempted to repeat the coup on the next astern. The Hun succeeded in eluding the Botha’s crippled onslaught, but fell a victim to the French destroyers. She lay disabled and ablaze, and they pounded the flaming wreck as a man grinds a dead snake under his heel.