The Adventure of English: The Biography of a Language

Introduction



The way in which a few tribal and local Germanic dialects spoken by a hundred and fifty thousand people grew into the English language spoken and understood by about one and a half billion people has all the characteristics of a tremendous adventure. That is the story of this book. English, like a living organism, was seeded in this country a little over fifteen hundred years ago. England became its first home. From the beginning it was exposed to rivalries, dangers and threats: there was an escape from extinction, the survival of an attempt at suffocation; there was looting, great boldness, chances taken and missed; there were and there are casualties. It has often been a fierce war over words – whose language rules? – but also there were and are treasures: literatures, unified governance, and today the possibility of a world conversation, in English.



This book is about where the English language came from and how it achieved the feat of transforming itself so successfully. It is about the words which describe the way we live, the words we think in, sing in, speak in; the words which nourish our imagination, words which tell us what we are. Although English only exists in the mouths, minds and pens of its many individual users, I came to feel that English had a character and presence of its own. This is not how professional linguists see it but just as some historians see `England' with a life of its own at certain times, so the language itself, in my view, can be seen as a living organism.



It is not known with any certainty as yet when language evolved: one hundred thousand years ago? Later? It probably began as signs and calls, gestures and facial and bodily expressions, many of which we retain still. We speak of `body language'. We can tell what someone is `saying' by their expression. We `talk' in our expressions still and our extreme calls of fear or ecstasy may not be much different from those of the first Homo sapiens a hundred thousand years ago.

But then language began to build. We will never know who laid the foundations. Stephen Pinker and others think that Homo sapiens arrived with the gift of language innate – the language instinct. What remained to be done was to find the methods and opportunities to turn that instinct into words.



But who found the first words? Who finds new words today? We know that Shakespeare put into print at least two thousand new words but the majority of words come out of the crowd. An American frontiersman like Davy Crockett can be as good a word spinner as a Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. Early words came from those who worked the land, those whose centuries of nose to the earth made them acquainted with the minutiae of nature and most likely it was they who, often out of necessity, had to name what they saw: basic things, and creatures which might endanger or nourish them. The giving of names could be called the most democratic communal effort in our history. Language is the finest achievement of culture – and in my view, the English language is the most remarkable of the many contributions these islands have made to the world.



Some years ago I made twenty-five programmes for BBC Radio 4 called The Routes of English, whose general starting point was the way in which English had changed and developed on the tongue. My own starting point was a childhood in which I spoke a heavily the whole of the language was still based squarely in the world of agriculture, a world outside the city wall.



There was, though, I thought, another set of programmes I wanted to make, programmes which would describe the history of English, combining, I hoped, the history I had read at university with the English I had read before, during and since. ITV accepted this as a series. Although this book is far fuller than the programmes I wrote, it is based on their structure, which I decided early on would work best as an adventure story.



I am not a linguistic scholar, but I have been very greatly helped by scholars whose work is acknowledged in the book. But there is, in this country, a tradition, across many disciplines, of the permitted amateur – doctors who were biologists and ornithologists, landed gentlemen who were scientists, zoologists and historians, clergymen who were encyclopaedic – and I hope I will be admitted to the ranks of those amateurs.



One of the consequences of this is that the book, though as thoroughly researched as I could make it, is not an academic text. It is for the general reader. The spelling of words, for instance, which has changed so often and so radically, has been the subject of difficult decisions. Where the original spelling of the word is vital to the story, I have kept it. Where, in my opinion, the argument and the examples flow convincingly in a more modern version, I have opted for that.



Daniel Defoe famously wrote of `Your Roman-Saxon-Danish-Norman English'. Were he to reformulate this today he would have to add several other sources: Indian, West Indian, your global-technical, but most of all your American. The American influence on English has been and continues to be crucially important and one of the lucky turns in the adventure is that it was English and not, as it just might have been, French or Spanish or German which adopted or was adopted by that new-found land – that engine of the new and the modern world. America has brought much treasure to the word-hoard but also, like the British Empire it succeeded, its accented dialect based on an Old Norse vocabulary unintelligible to all my teachers at the grammar school, for which I had to adopt Standard English or what was more commonly known as BBC English. Also in the dialect I spoke there was a seam of Romany, and English has caused casualties, and in both empires they are part of this story.



This book travels across time and space from fifth-century Friesland to twenty-first-century Singapore, from the Wessex of King Alfred to the Wild West of Buffalo Bill, from the plains of India to the monasteries of Holy Island, from the Palace of Westminster to the black Gullah tongue in the Deep South of America. Along the way it reaches back to claw in Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Sanskrit: on its journey it takes from French, Italian, Arabic, Chinese and scores of other languages. English still uses the basic vocabulary of those first invaders but has added tower after tower of new words and new ideas. It has released feelings and thoughts all over the planet. It continues to reinvent new Englishes wherever it goes and shows no sign at all of slowing down.



© 2003 by Melvyn Bragg

From Publishers Weekly

This compelling and charmingly personal companion to an eight-part television documentary (scheduled for the fall) makes for an idiosyncratic rival to PBS's bestselling blockbuster The Story of English, by Robert McCrum et al. Titling a history of the evolution and expansion of a language an "adventure" presupposes a hero, with such obvious choices as Alfred the Great, for defeating the Danes; Chaucer, for his Canterbury Tales; Shakespeare, for his poetic inventiveness; or Samuel Johnson, for his groundbreaking dictionary. Bragg, a British TV and radio personality and novelist (The Soldier's Return), gives all their contributions their due, but English itself, with its "deep obstinacy" and "astonishing flexibility," emerges as his favorite character. Bragg's enthusiasm for his subject-hero, whether the Old English of Beowulf or the new "Text English" of the Internet, makes up for his shortcomings as a linguist: his sources, unfootnoted, are at times at variance with the OED or Webster's Third. For instance, Bragg furnishes only one putative origin for the disputed "real McCoy." Moreover "candy" does not seem to have Anglo-Indian origins (it's from the Arabic "qandi"), and the first recorded use of "vast" is not from Shakespeare (the OED cites Archbishop Edwin Sandys). Nevertheless, this "biography" succeeds in its broad, sweeping narrative, carrying the reader from the origins of Anglo-Saxon through the Viking and Norman invasions to the consolidation of "British" English and outward to America, Australia, India, the West Indies and beyond. After some 1,500 years, with one billion speakers now worldwide, according to Bragg, the English language has displayed an amazing ability to repair and reinvent itself, as Bragg ably shows. 32 pages of color illus.

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.



From Booklist

Why do Americans say fall when the British say autumn? How was English altered by the Black Death? What is Singlish and how has it evolved? Novelist Bragg explores these and other questions in his look at the English language's long march from obscure Sanskrit origins to a global lingua franca. Along the way, he examines the roles played by the Viking invasions, the Norman Conquest, the Tyndale Bible, the writings of Chaucer and Shakespeare, and the Industrial Revolution. He also traces English's journey across the globe in the wake of British imperialism, following it to America, India, Australia, and elsewhere. Several chapters are devoted to American English and how it has been transformed by influences as diverse as the journals of Lewis and Clark and the African dialects that were transported with the slaves. Looking ahead, the book considers how standard language will be shaped by "other Englishes" employed by those for whom English is a second tongue. It is Bragg's contention that the prevalence of English can be explained in part by such inherent virtues as "astonishing precision and flexibility," and whether one agrees with him or not, he is the ideal tour guide here, both entertaining and informative. Mary Ellen Quinn

Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

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Beijing, Taipei vie for Caribbean support

China has begun outbidding Taiwan for the islands' allegiance, compelling some to switch sides and embrace its policies.

By Carol J. Williams, Times Staff Writer

April 30, 2007

kingstown, st. vincent and the grenadines — When the Yurumein-Taiwan Bridge a few miles north of here opened last month, nearly a third of this island chain's population turned out to celebrate.



The link at Rabacca means that tourists can reach the active La Soufriere volcano year-round, that investors can build luxury resorts and marinas along the pristine north coast beaches and that farmers in the lush interior mountains can get their produce to the Kingstown docks and airport.



Even better, the $8.5-million bridge was free, one of many gifts Taiwan has extended to small island states in the Caribbean in gratitude for recognition of the island's claim to independence from China.



Taiwan has been investing in and inveigling Caribbean countries since it lost its United Nations seat to mainland China in 1971. A decade ago, it had eight of the tiny island states' support in its bid for membership in the world body.



But as China has surged to become the fourth-largest economy in the world, it has begun outbidding Taiwan for the islands' allegiance, compelling St. Lucia, Dominica and Grenada to switch sides and embrace the one-China policy espoused by Beijing.



Taiwan has enjoyed trade and diplomatic contact with much of the developed world since breaking with China after the Communist takeover in 1949. It has representative offices in 130 nations, but only 24 countries recognize Taiwan as an independent country.



A boon



The dollar diplomacy has been a boon for the islands, helping them build airports, roads and schools and plant new crops to replace the banana trade that has fallen victim to globalization. Taiwan and China also contributed tens of millions to their respective backers to build stadiums for the Cricket World Cup that wrapped up Saturday in Barbados.



Some analysts say, however, that the region's inconsistency on the China question could undermine its quest for political and economic integration or could unduly influence domestic politics in a region still trying to find its own way after centuries of European colonization.



The 15-member Caribbean Community, known as Caricom, already is badly divided on many of its integration projects, with some islands more keen than others on harmonizing laws and economies of the bloc uniting 24 million people. Eight of the island states are taking part in the Caribbean Single Market and Economy, but even they don't all use the Eastern Caribbean dollar. Only two of Caricom's members have committed to the Caribbean Court of Justice.



"A structured regional relationship on trade, aid and investment with China, which is now indisputably an economic giant and which could offer much to the people of the Caribbean, ought not be delayed," said Ronald Sanders, a businessman and former diplomat from Antigua and Barbuda who has represented Caricom at the World Trade Organization.



He points out that mainland China is expected to be the fourth-largest source of global travelers by 2020, a market the tourism-dependent Caribbean cannot afford to ignore.



Cyp Neehall, editor of the century-old newspaper the Vincentian, doubts that St. Vincent and the Grenadines will be persuaded to drop Taiwan, at least in the foreseeable future. The relationship has survived three political leaderships and is in the thick of collaborating on a new international airport for Kingstown, the nation's capital, and the first cross-island roadway.



St. Vincent and the Grenadines, with just over 100,000 citizens, has had ties with Taiwan since 1981, two years after the Caribbean islands gained independence from Britain. Though three of their neighbors have reoriented toward Beijing and a few Hong Kong enterprises have subsidiaries here now, St. Vincent authorities say their allegiance to Taipei, Taiwan's capital, is built on more than money.



"First and foremost, our relations are based on the principles enshrined in the United Nations document — respect for human rights and those things," said Patricia Martin, permanent secretary for foreign affairs, commerce and trade.



Fruits and flowers



Agricultural assistance from Taiwan in planting new fruits and flowers on the island has helped spare St. Vincent the economic blows sustained elsewhere in the Caribbean since the European Union phased out preferential trade terms for bananas from developing countries. Pineapples, melons, orchids and ornamental plants are sprouting in the rich volcanic soil and in proliferating greenhouses.



At Taiwan's hillside embassy overlooking Kingstown, Ambassador Jack Yu-Tai Cheng shows off a wax apple tree that has been introduced to St. Vincent. A pink-skinned Asian fruit the size of a cherry, the wax apple is among the new varieties attracting gourmet produce marketers in North America and Europe.



Taiwan's spending has been more in the form of aid, scholarships and credit, and comes without ideological strings attached, Cheng said. By contrast, he contended, China interferes with the domestic political agendas of its allies in the Caribbean.



Before Dominica's 2005 election, Beijing pledged $112 million in aid to the tiny island of 70,000 on condition it drop recognition of Taiwan. The economic bait turned the campaign into a referendum on China policy, with Prime Minister Roosevelt Skerrit's Labor Party winning reelection after breaking with Taipei.



Making China policy a partisan issue could backfire on Beijing, however. A change in government after a December election in St. Lucia has been accompanied by rumblings about returning to Taiwan's Caribbean flock.



St. Lucia switched allegiances in 1997, when the pro-Beijing Labor Party came to power. But the latest election brought back the United Workers Party, which had recognized Taiwan for 13 years. Taiwan Foreign Minister James Huang visited St. Lucia in March, provoking Beijing to admonish the Caribbean island's government for a diplomatic exchange that "hurt the feelings of the Chinese people."



In Grenada, suspicions of political intrigue on the China issue were rife after the Grenadian police band played the Taiwanese anthem at a February ceremony inaugurating a 20,000-seat stadium built by Beijing. The band leader was forced to resign and the police commissioner to apologize to Chinese Ambassador Qian Hongshan.



But observers such as Neehall, the newspaper editor, scoff at the idea that the embarrassing incident was accidental, pointing out that Grenadian Prime Minister Keith Mitchell's government has suffered from a perception that Taiwan would have been of more practical assistance than has China in the island's struggle to rebuild after the 2004 devastation of Hurricane Ivan.



Neehall also expects his own country to stay within the Taiwan camp despite the growing pressures for a one-China policy in the Caribbean.



"Given what has been promised and what we have deduced is forthcoming, I don't think a shift will be sooner rather than later," he said of these islands.



'Overwhelming presence'



None of the remaining Taipei backers appears at imminent risk of changing China tactics, although all have been approached by Beijing with aid and investment offers.



"We do recognize the overwhelming presence of the People's Republic of China," the Dominican Republic's foreign minister, Carlos Morales Troncoso, said of his country's recent establishment of a trade office in Beijing. "Our loyalty with Taiwan comes first. Nevertheless we have to recognize that China is a big reality in the area."



Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, has been under pressure from Beijing to change its allegiance, with the communist government threatening to veto United Nations peacekeeping forces for the violence-racked country. But President Rene Preval, who took office less than a year ago, has shown no inclination to break a 50-year-old relationship with Taipei that has brought some of Haiti's most important infrastructure projects to fruition.



Although regional analysts expect a common diplomatic strategy among the Caricom states to emerge with time, they acknowledge that it might be decades in the making and could prove elusive unless Beijing and Taipei reconcile.



"On the issue of Taiwan and China, the countries within Caricom have agreed to disagree," said Martin of St. Vincent's Foreign Ministry. "We are all sovereign countries, and those of us who have relations with Taiwan maintain that as our right and see it as in our best interests, and that has to be respected."

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Courland — A Colonial Power of Latvia

Courland — A Colonial Power of Latvia



In 1651, Duke Jacob Kettler (1610–1681) conquered the delta of the Gambia river as a colony of Courland, Latvia's predecessor country. In 1654 the Caribbean island of Tobago was also conquered. The Duke even planned to conquer Australia.



The small Duchy of Courland had only 200,000 inhabitants, despite ambitious plans for expansion. Its area covered most of the southern part of modern day Latvia. Instead of occupying colonies in neighbouring regions, Duke Jacob Kettler set his eyes for exotic lands which could produce valuable imports.

Duke Jacob (or James) Kettler of Courland was the godson of James I, the king of England. He was well educated and travelled extensively in Western Europe. Being a qualified politician and merchant he managed to make the strategically important Duchy one of the leading maritime states, which boasted a great 17th century fleet.

The primary destination for the Duke was Africa. The Courlanders built a fortress on the island of St. Andrews on the mouth of the river Gambia. The northern colonialists acquired gold, fur, spices and ivory. These exotic products were shipped to Europe as expensive luxuries.

In 1661, the English conquered the Courlanders' fortress, ending their short period as one of Africa’s colonial powers.

The island of Tobago and the British West Indies were the next stop for Courland's expansion. Tobago was conquered in 1654. The impressive Ventspils based doubledecker ship Das Wappen der Herzogin von Kurland, was armed with 45 cannons and used to conquer the island. The ship carried 25 officials, 124 of Courland’s soldiers and 80 families of colonists, all sent by the ambitious duke. Some sources claim the occupation took place a couple of years earlier.

The new colony was named New Courland. Even today, names reminiscent of the previous colonists appear in Tobago, such as Great Courland Bay and James Bay.

During Jacob's rule the Duchy of Courland was an economic power with plenty of exports going abroad to countries such as England, France, the Netherlands and Portugal.

The traditional exports of Courland were timber, hardware, glassware, flour, grain, salted meat, fish and amber. After the occupation of Tobago this list grew, adding sugar, spices, tobacco, cocoa, coffee, cotton and tropical birds.

The Duke managed to occupy the island in 1656 while Jacob was busy fighting the Swedes and the Poles back in Europe. Once the Swedish-Polish war ended the Courlanders quickly reoccupied Tobago and rebuilt their grand merchant fleet and factories.

Courland lost its last colony in 1689, when Friedrich, Duke Jacob's son who was notorious for his glamorous partylifestyle, sold Tobago to the English. It has been claimed that Duke Jacob also had plans to colonialise Australia in the early 1650s. Dutch explorer Willem Janszoon had discovered the new continent in 1606 and had named it New Holland. Jacob, who was already fighting against the Dutch in Tobago, wanted to send at least 40 ships carrying 24,000 soldiers to Australia.

Duke Jacob got holy help for his brave plan. Pope Innocent X blessed the idea, since Jacob claimed the new continent would be useful for the Catholic Church. Unfortunately for Jacob, Pope Innocent X died in 1654 and his successor Pope Alexander VII was not interested in Jacob’s grand idea.

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Memoirs & Diaries: Zeebrugge

Memoirs & Diaries: Zeebrugge

Updated - Tuesday, 18 December, 2001

by W. Wainwright

The early days of February 1918 found me a minute cog in the machinery of the greatest Armada known, the Grand Fleet - a seaman on board the Superb, stationed in the melancholy regions of Scapa Flow.

One evening, in the midst of our usual festivities, namely, looking mournful at each other, Nemesis in the shape of a large overfed "crusher" (ship's police) overtook me, and I was informed that a large piece of "Gold Braid" living an exclusive life at the far end of the ship had become interested in me, and would I favour him with an interview?

I followed the pompous "body-snatcher", along brightly lit passages, feeling dismayed, but on reaching the Commander's cabin all fears were dispelled, as I was cordially invited to enter and found myself in a circle consisting of the Commander, Secretary, Master-at-Arms, and five able seamen, all wearing a vacant expression.

With my arrival a full quota appeared to be made up, as the Commander, rising to his feet and producing a paper, informed us that the Commander-in-Chief had sent him a signal for six seamen, for special service.

He went on to say that, not knowing himself what the stunt was, he could not give the least idea, except that it was dangerous work, and nine out of ten chances that we should "snuff it", and we should be under twenty-three, single, physically fit, and able to use a revolver and oar.

From these conditions it appeared to us as though the result of the War rested on us, and, needless to recount, oil was poured on troubled waters with phrases of honour and glory.

fter letting his words sink in he gazed at the condemned "six" and stated that if any did not want to volunteer nothing would be said, and the man could just carry on.

However, no one moved, and no doubt, thinking I looked the silliest pigeon there, the Commander asked if I would go.  Having served a miserable six months in that ship, and my third year in that dismal theatre of war, I informed him promptly that I would be glad of it.

To get away from his tender care had been a cherished ambition of mine.

Needless to say, the remaining five jumped at the idea, and we were beamed on with pride, solemnly shaken by the hand, and called heroes, and bidden to depart to our habitation and say nothing, but by that time all the ship was seething with excitement as to what was going to happen, and we found ourselves the centre of an admiring crowd all agog with excitement.

I never knew I was so popular; even old sailors of twenty-one and abouts who had hitherto passed me by with disdain (I was only nineteen), gave me fatherly advice.  I retired happy.

The glamour had not worn off the next morning, and vainly I tried to concentrate on the day's work, that bugbear of civilization known as "Saturday's routine", a mix-up of salt water, sand, and scrubbers, and I was wandering round in a state of oblivion when an autocratic personage in the shape of the Captain's Messenger came with the startling news that the "old man" had expressed a desire to see us immediately.

My scrubber was dropped and I was on my way to his cabin before he had finished his message.

Here, again, we were royally received with more handshakes and words of praise, and our tender young ears must have burnt, but by far the best news was that we would work no more in that ship, but confine our energy to physical training and revolver exercise.

Monday morning saw us step off in a fine style, in athletical garb, led by a high-stepping physical training instructor and watched by an admiring, envious and cynical crowd, and we were kept at it all the afternoon, our only respite being the ju-jitsu lesson, and later we landed for revolver practice, wandering round on a deserted island and practising drawing and shooting.  I think it was a good job at first that the island was deserted.

As the days went on we grew into whalebone and whipcord, thanks to the slave-driver who had us in his care, and we understood the whys and wherefores of revolvers and the art of firing, the days passing all too quickly.

Again it was a Friday and we were beginning to think the affair was a fiasco, when the bombshell burst, and our instructions were to the effect that we were to leave the ship at 5 a.m. the following day and report on board H.M.S. Hindustan at Chatham the following Friday, thus giving us a few days' leave to say farewell to all relatives and any other affair before being killed.

That journey south appeared the longest I had ever done.  In fact, it took thirty-six hours before I arrived at the home station, but all was forgotten in the reunions, which might have been for me, as they were for many, the last.

But, like all good things, they soon came to an end and I took my leave of all with an uneasy feeling, wondering if I should ever come back.  But at nineteen cares are light, and I slept soundly in the train that was taking me to this new adventure.

Holborn Station presented a curious spectacle the following morning; groups of seamen could be seen talking with suppressed excitement and looking questioningly at any seaman wearing the ribbon of some ship in the Grand Fleet.

The Chatham train drew all these adventurers into its compartments, and here the question, "Are you in this stunt and what is it going to be?" was freely debated, but no one could throw any light on the subject, and whoever had organized the whole business had preserved its secrecy in no uncertain fashion.

A couple of hours later brought us to Chatham, and, knowing the dinner that would await us, we decided to join the ship with a good meal stowed away, so dined in town before attempting the miserable walk to the dockyard.

Our knowledge stood us in good stead, as, once aboard the Hindustan, the usual emergency dinner was served, bully beef, bread and pickles, but, for once, "sailors didn't care", and the natural excitement and high spirits took the edge off everybody's appetite.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in recovering our belongings, which had been dispatched from Thurso the week previous, and getting to know the lay of the ship and making acquaintances.

In the evening a strong contingent made their way to the barrack canteen in such a jovial mood that the clash that came with the men of the barracks later was inevitable (it's a curious trait with a seaman, but he'd fight his own brother just for the sake of being antagonistic if the brother belonged to a different depot or fleet), and it was only after the guard had been turned out and the dockyard police reinforced that peace was obtained.

During the next few days we were formed into companies, platoons, and sections, introduced to our leaders and put through our paces on St. Mary's Island both day and night, and then handed over to the instructors of the 5th and 6th Middlesex Regt. to be polished off and to be instructed in the fine arts of land warfare.

The weeks that passed then were one mass of bayonet drill, pointing and parrying, blob sticks, bombs, trench mortars, gas, night attacks, final assaults, and musketry, and we were gradually becoming excellent soldiers.

A slight change in the run of things found our section transferred into a 3-inch Stokes trench-mortar battery, and we were armed with a combination of nautical weapons, the pistol and cutlass (the latter article is only useful for deck cricket, when three of them make good wickets), and our training regarding the wielding of this barbarous weapon began again.

The whole of this period spent in training was glorious, the new surroundings and atmosphere, the unfamiliar work and the keenness to become proficient at it, and the high spirits between officers and men combined to make the work a most pleasing task, and, although our leave was stopped, we found ways and means of having a run ashore, a proceeding which was given the blind eye by our officers.

The worst punishment a man could be threatened with was expulsion from the party.  "The Mecca" of our pilgrimage was gradually growing nearer, but we were still in the dark regarding the actual intention of all this strenuous training.

Our training was now nearing completion, and our massed attacks were taking on a sameness which pointed at some concerted item we were rehearsing for, and many inventions were tried, with a view to saving as many lives as possible, and we had practically reached the acme of perfection and were in danger of going stale.

One morning, about this period, our usual route was changed, and we found ourselves inside the Royal Marine Barracks, and, after being thumped, patted and pushed round by a rotund sergeant-major, we emerged into fresh air, in a dazed state, and a suit of khaki.

There was another trial and tribulation put upon us, the difference between our nautical garb and this warrior's suit being as wide as the Poles, and the weather being warm for the time of the year, there was a distinct, subdued and muffled up feeling amongst our detachment, but in a day or so all strangeness wore away, and the mess-deck mirrors did a roaring trade.

It had now reached the beginning of April and we had finally finished our training with the Army, when we got the order to get "under way" and proceed to a certain rendezvous, and accordingly the same evening found us in a desolate waste of water known as the Swim just off Sheerness.

A couple more days aboard the Hindustan and orders were issued that we should embark in that curious stranger that had just arrived, an obsolete cruiser with a strange Noah's Ark look about her, the Vindictive, and we were conveyed to her by the Liverpool ferry-boats Iris and Daffodil.

Our going aboard of her synchronized with the arrival of three detachments of Marines, and the living accommodation was taxed to its utmost.

The ship itself was an exceedingly unique specimen of warship, there being no comparison to her former days when she had been a pride to all who sailed in her.  She had been stripped bare of everything bar the essential parts, her mainmast having gone and her foremast cut short above the fighting top.

Along her portside ran an immense wooden chafing band reinforced with huge hazelwood fenders and on the port quarter a part of the main-mast had been cemented to the deck to enable her to lay alongside any wall without swinging out, head on stern.

Covering her port battery ran a false deck lined with sandbags, and towering above this deck was an array of improvised gangways, sixteen in all, flanked by two huge metal huts housing the foremost and aftermost flame throwers.

At the break of the fo'c'sle and the quarter-deck were two grapnels fitted to wire pennants and leading respectively to the foremost and after-capstans.  Here fore and after guns had been replaced by 7.5 howitzers and midships abaft the after funnel was an 11-inch howitzer, the port battery had been replaced with 2-pound pom-poms, with the exception of the foremost and after 6-inch gun, whilst two pom-poms adorned the fighting-top.

There is no denying it she was ugly, as she lay there, a veritable floating fortress, a death-trap fitted with all the ingenious contrivances of war that human brain could think of, but we took unholy pride and a fiendish delight in her, and if it were possible for men to love a ship, we loved her.

Now came the awakening: the platoons were gathered together under their commanders, who, fortified with models and aerial photos, explained to us our objective - we were to block the entrance of the Bruges canal at Zeebrugge and Ostend and our objective was to land and obtain possession of the Mole, to enable the blockships (Iphegenia, Intrepid, and Thetis) to get into position for sinking, and to cause a diversion to facilitate that project.

The magnitude of the scheme overwhelmed us, the sheer audacity of tackling a place like Zeebrugge under the muzzles of the world-famed Blankenberghe Battery , where a change in the wind or tide at the critical moment would undoubtedly result in the total loss of the expedition.

Viewing the whole outlook in cold daylight the large element of luck that must accompany us for the scheme to be successful was evident, also the knowledge that such an undertaking was impossible without a huge loss of life, but the last thought lay the lightest, our chief worry being that the stunt might end in hot air and all of us be sent back to the Fleet.

However, no time was wasted, for on April 11th we weighed anchor and proceeded out to sea in company with other ships of the expedition.

Our send-off lacked nothing in heartiness as the crew of the Hindustan cheered us on our way, and what with our responding cheers, the huge harbour sounded for all the world like some cup-tie arena; the momentary sadness that inevitably follows these partings (for your bluejacket is not totally callous) soon gave way to the thoughts that we were at last on the way for our objective.

The land left behind, our fleet took up some semblance of order, but proper order among such a strange assortment of craft was impossible.  In the centre steamed the Vindictive with the Iris and Daffodil in tow, astern of these came the Thetis, Intrepid, Iphegenia, Sirius, and Brilliant, whilst surrounding these disreputable looking ships were destroyers, motor-launches, C.M.B.'s, and a sturdy little picket boat could be seen towing a submarine, whilst far away monitors were taking up position to cover the attack.

As the final hour approached, the finishing touches were put to a well-organized ship, ammunition was fused and placed in readiness, hoses run out and all preparations made prior to going into action.

The night was dark, and far away could be seen the British aircraft making a bombing attack on Zeebrugge, and further still the dull red flashes of the artillery in Flanders.

The ship slowed down and stopped whilst the heads of departments conferred, until slowly the whole significance dawned on the troops; the wind had changed and we could not carry out our plans, and it was a disappointed ship that sailed for England that night.

The following day another attempt was made, but this again was unsuccessful, as the wind, this time in the right direction, was too fresh and made it impossible for the smaller craft to proceed, and these were needed to ensure the success of the operation.

Another shift was our portion, for on account of the congestion of the living accommodation, the battleship Dominion was sent out to act as an overflow ship, and we duly found ourselves aboard her.  The days were spent now in keeping fit, but I think most of the time was spent in sleep and, on the whole, we had a fairly easy time.

The time was approaching when, if the next attempt failed, the whole stunt was likely to be postponed, as after this period the necessary flood tides would not occur at the times required.  April was nearing its end when we embarked on the Vindictive again.

This was on the morning of Monday, April 22nd, and once all the troops were assembled we lost no time in breaking our moorings, taking the Iris and Daffodil in tow and proceeding to sea in the exact formation of the previous attempts.

The trip across the Channel was uneventful and most of the time was passed with impromptu concerts and dances and I doubt if any there thought of the serious mission of this strangely assorted fleet.  After supper had been served, practically everybody snatched an hour or two's sleep before the fateful zero hour; how anyone could sleep with an adventure like the one before us speaks volumes for the mental and physical fitness of the party.

Our slumbers were disturbed by a bugle call, and a ration of hot chicken-broth was served out, supplemented by a ration of grog, the latter ration being left practically untouched, it being thought that a clear head and steady eye were more beneficial.

Word was passed round then, and the men assembled at their stations for the attack as leisurely as if going to a football-match.

A cheerless scene greeted one's arrival on the upper deck.  It was a black night, everything was wrapped in fog, while behind, the ships were unnaturally quiet, the only sounds being those of the engine going slow, the lap of the water against the ship's sides and the subdued murmur from the bridge, with now and again the rattle of the helm; nothing could be seen.

Suddenly the quietness of the night was shattered by a single rifle-shot; this was followed almost immediately by a dull red flash over the fo'c'sle and the angry crack of a bursting shell, a few yells and an isolated call of "Mother".  The game was on, and Jerry had drawn first blood.

The wind had now changed and was blowing the smoke screen and artificial fog back over us, leaving us the target for the shore batteries, but ahead of us loomed the Mole, 200 yards away, and for this we raced.

Following the burst of the first shell the night had turned into day by searchlights and star-shells, and all the venom and hatred of the shore batteries seemed concentrated on us, salvo after salvo struck the ship, doing indescribable damage in the packed starboard battery where all the storming party were awaiting to land; the foremost howitzer's crew were wiped out with the exception of the voice pipeman, who was a couple of yards away.

The strangest part of this was that the trench mortar battery, not more than 4 feet away, did not receive injury at that time.

Within the space of a few seconds the leading seaman in charge of our battery had been hit in the back of the head, whilst half a dozen of our battery had received superficial scratches.

We were now alongside the Mole and sheltered a little from the murderous hail of shell from the forts, which continued to keep up a burst of shrapnel around our funnels, which showed up and made excellent targets.

Every gun in the Vindictive that could bear had now given tongue and the night was made hideous by the nerve-racking shatter of the pom-poms, the deep bell-like boom of the howitzers and trench mortars, and all-pervading rattle of musketry and machine-gun fire; it was hell with a vengeance and it seemed well-nigh miraculous that human beings could live in such an inferno.

Meanwhile, down on the quarter-deck the ship was being secured by means of the large grappling irons fitted on wire pennants, which had continually been thrown back from the wall by a few Germans whose bravery was eclipsed by none, until they were driven off by rifle-fire.

After what seemed an eternity, the anchor rattled down and the all-fast signal was given.  Of our sixteen specially constructed gangways only two remained, but these were already in position and up into the night went one huge yell, all the pent-up feeling of the years of war and hatred and the lust for killing, and the seamen's storming party landed, followed by the Royal Marines.

To many, that yell was their last earthly sound, as the Germans kept up a concentrated machine-gun fire on the gangways, and the dead and wounded were piled up three or four deep, but the remnants of the platoon staggered through, reorganized, and carried on as though still in the peaceful heart of Kent.

To see these men, the cream of the youth of England, laughing, cheering, and swearing, rushing into what seemed certain death, was not inspiring; it was heart-breaking to think that in these enlightened days the youth of the country was being butchered in the cause of civilization, and St. Peter must have wiped his eye as he greeted most of them home.

Once on the top of the Mole one was assailed by the overwhelming feeling of nakedness and maddening desire to go forward at all costs and stop the hail of death that swept the upper Mole; sense and reason were replaced by insane fury and the events that followed cannot be remembered coherently; it was a horrible nightmare of sweating and cursing men thirsty for blood, the sickening "sog" of bayonets and of shots at close quarters.

Of the individual deeds of heroism that were enacted that night there are hundreds that never will be told, they are kept a jealously guarded secret in the hearts of the survivors.

At last, through the din and uproar, rose the wailing of a siren, the signal that the job had been done, telling the storming parties to retire and the remnants of the platoons, by now sadly depleted, to fall back to the ship, bringing wherever possible their wounded.

But what of the Vindictive?  Whilst the landing-party was on the Mole, she had been subjected to a galling bombardment of shrapnel, and her upper-deck was a veritable shambles, while the superstructure presented a sorry appearance.

Willing hands had ventured forth under heavy machine-gun fire and cleared the wounded below and given help to the returning parties from the Mole.

After the safety limit of time had been reached in allowing the parties to return orders were given to slip the cable, while the guns that were still serviceable put up a barrage to prevent a counter-attack, and the wind, now favourable, again carried down the artificial fog and blotted out the ship from the shore batteries whilst we steamed all out for England and home.

W. Wainwright joined the Royal Navy in 1915, at the age of 16, and served in H.M.S. Monarch (Grand Fleet) in the North Sea, taking part in the Battle of Jutland.  Was drafted to H.M.S. Superb in 1917, and served in her until volunteering to take part in raid against Zeebrugge (April 23rd, 1918).

Returning to depot was sent to H.M.S. Gardenia, engaged on anti-submarine warfare and convoying duties in the Irish Sea and North Atlantic, and later in the Mediterranean.  Was in Tripoli (Syria) when Armistice was signed and proceeded to Constantinople with the occupying Fleet.

Engaged in 1919 in operations against Russia, around the Crimea and Black Sea ports, and on repatriation duties in Turkey-in-Asia.

In April 1920 left H.M.S. Gardenia with the Engeli Expedition (a party of 31 men) in an attempt to reach Engeli (North Persia) via Batoum and Baku, to reorganize the volunteer Fleet on the Caspian Sea.  The party arrived in Baku (Azerberzium) the day that state turned Bolshevik, was surrounded by the 11th Red Army and forced to surrender.

The whole party, along with a few other Britishers, being confined first at the Checka and then in cells in the Bieloff Prison, on the outskirts of Baku.  Exchanged, in November 1920, reaching England December 1920.

Served later in H.M.S.s Bruce, Malaya, and Serapis, and was finally discharged in June 1928.

by Captain Alfred Carpenter in a wartime interview with Lieutenant J. Keble Bell

Let me, first of all, try to tell you the story of Zeebrugge as I extracted it, not without difficulty, from several of the leading spirits of that enterprise.

This is no technical story.  Elsewhere you will find the official narrative issued by the Admiralty to the Press, and that contains, as all good official documents do, names, ranks, dates, times, and movements.

I lay claim to no such precision.  It is my proud yet humble task to bring you face to face, if I can, with the men who went out to greet what they regarded as certain death - bear that in mind - in order to stop, in some measure, the German submarine menace, and to prove yet once again to all the world that the British Navy is the same in spirit as it was in the days of Nelson and far down the ages.

These men went out on the eve of St. George's Day, 1918, to do those two things - the one utilitarian, the other romantic.  They went out to block the Bruges Canal at Zeebrugge - to stop that mouth which for so long past has been vomiting forth its submarines and its destroyers against our hospital ships, and our merchant vessels, and the merchant vessels of countries not engaged in this war.

They blocked it so neatly, so effectively, that it will be utterly useless as a submarine base for - I long to tell you the opinion of the experts, but I may not - many months to come.

This shall be proved for you as we proceed.  Now let me explain, very briefly, the nature of the task which the Navy set itself.  You imagine Zeebrugge, perhaps, as a long and dreary breakwater, flanked by flat and sparsely populated country, with a few German coastguards dotted about, and a destroyer or two in the offing.

I am certain that that is the mental picture most of us had of Zeebrugge - if we had one at all.

Now conceive instead a crowded fortress.  Conceive a garrison of no less than one thousand men ever on the break-water.  Figure to yourself, at every possible coign of vantage, guns of mighty calibre, destroyers lurking beneath the Mole on the harbour side, searchlights at all points, and great land guns in the distance ready to pulverize any hostile craft that dares to show its nose within miles.

Picture all that as vividly as you can, and then ask yourself the question: "Would it be possible to storm Zeebrugge so successfully that block-ships could be sunk in the very mouth of the Canal and seal it up?"

How would you have set about it?  With a huge force of cruisers?  No, for the enemy must be taken by surprise.  The action must be swift, cunning, and sure.  The enemy must not be warned, or your one object, the blocking of the Canal, will be lost.

It took Lord Jellicoe and Sir Roger Keyes six long and anxious months to perfect their plan, with the chance that the secret, at any moment, might slip out.

But it was perfect at last, and the secret had not slipped out.  Next they wanted a number of men - picked men with special qualities - who would be ready and eager to die if only this amazing coup might be achieved.

Last of all they wanted a night on which all the conditions - the wind, the weather, the light - should be in their favour.  They did not get that, but they went in, none the less, and did the job.

What would you say if you heard, some fine morning, that an almost obsolete German cruiser had come and leant up against the wall of Dover Harbor, that two German officers had calmly sat astride the wall in the course of their business, that some German sailors had landed on the wall and chased our gunners away from their guns, and that, in the meantime, three quite obsolete German ships, filled with concrete, had been sunk in the mouth of the harbour and blocked it?  What in the world would you say?

I think you would at first refuse to believe it.  Then, when some official communication lent colour to the story, you would tear your hair, declare that all was lost, and utter extremely unpleasant things about the British Forces and those in charge of them.

Yet this is precisely what happened at Zeebrugge.  There is nothing more gallant in the annals of the British Navy.  Not one man expected to come back.  There is nothing more successful in the annals of the British Navy.  They did to the full just what they hoped and had planned to do.

"Some people," said Captain Carpenter, "have called this affair audacious.  That isn't the word I should use for it."

"What word would you use?"

"Impertinent," he replied, laughingly.  "Just imagine this Armada of smoke-boats, motor launches, ferry-boats, obsolete submarines, and ancient cruisers laden with concrete, headed by the old Vindictive, setting out in broad day-light to attack the mighty fortress of Zeebrugge."

"In broad daylight!" I exclaimed.

"Certainly.  We timed ourselves to reach the Mole by midnight, so, owing to our slow speed, we had to do three hours of the oversea passage in daylight."

"How were the men?  Excited?"

"Oh, no; quite calm, and immensely relieved to be at it at last.  Well, so soon as it got dark, it was dark!  We could hardly see a thing, and when the smoke-boats got to work, pouring out great waves of dense smoke at regular intervals, which the light northeast wind carried right across the Mole and the harbour, pitch doesn't describe it!"

"What about the mine-field?"

"H'm!  Anyway, we dodged it.  My job, you understand, was to get alongside the Mole, land my Marines, help Iris and Daffodil to do the same, stay there drawing the fire of the batteries and diverting attention while the block-ships got into the Canal and sunk themselves, then get the Marines back on board, shove off, and clear out as quickly as possible.

"Incidentally, of course, we meant to put out of action as many Huns as was convenient by fire from our guns.  You've seen the picture of the fighting-top?  That was filled with Marines armed with Lewis guns.  They did capital work.  I'll come to that later.

"We got pretty near the Mole before they saw us, and then the fun began!  Up went the star-shells, the guns began blazing, and we went pell-mell for the old Mole like that."

A savage dig at the model with his cane.

"I had intended to fetch up just here" - he indicated a spot on the exterior of the great wall pretty near the head of it - "but actually came in here" - a little further inland.

"We'd had things called 'brows' constructed - a sort of light drawbridge with a hinge in the middle.  These were lowered away, but the current was so strong against the Mole, and the Vindictive bounced up and down so nimbly, that the men had the devil of a job to drop the ends of these brows on the wall.

"All this time, naturally enough, the Huns were blazing at us with everything they'd got.  If you have a look at the Vindictive in the morning, you'll soon see what they were doing to us.  We were just swept with fire from two sides.  Even before the party could begin to land, Colonel Elliot and Captain Halahan, poor chaps, who were in charge of that part of the business, were killed.

"The Iris went ahead of me and came alongside the Mole just here" - a little nearer the shore end.  "They tried to hang on with their grapnels, but couldn't quite manage it, so Lieut.-Commander Bradford and Lieut. Hawkins scrambled ashore and sat on the parapet, trying to fix the grapnels.  They were both killed.

"In the meantime, owing to the difficulty of securing to the Mole when alongside, I ordered the Daffodil to continue pushing, according to plan, so as to keep us in position.  This was a pity, because she was full of men, and they couldn't land to help with the fighting.  Eventually, some of them scrambled across the Vindictive and landed that way.

"The wind had changed about fifteen minutes before we came alongside the Mole; all the smoke had cleared off and the harbour was plain to the eye.  That helped the Huns to pot at us, and they took fine advantage of it.  The din, as you can guess, was terrific, and I think they got the old Vindictive in every visible spot.

"Suddenly the thing happened for which we had been, semi-consciously, waiting.  There was a tremendous roar, and up went a huge tower of flame and debris and bodies into the black sky!  My fellows cheered like mad, for they knew what it meant.  Sandford had got home beneath the viaduct with his ancient submarine and touched her off.  I never saw such a column of flame!  It seemed a mile high!

"I must tell you a curious feature of this affair.  As he approached the Mole they got the searchlights on to him and began firing at him.  That was a nasty position, because she was stuffed full of explosives, and also had a big quantity of petrol on board.  But when they saw him still coming on, and dashing straight at the Mole, they stopped firing and simply gaped.  I suppose they thought he was mad.

"Anyway, they paid for their curiosity.  On the viaduct itself there were a whole lot of Huns - masses of them.  There they stood, staring at Sandford in his submarine.  The searchlights lit them up.  Then, presently, came the explosion, and bang went the whole lot to glory!  They must have been the most surprised Huns since the war started.

"All this time, of course, a lot of other things were happening.  Many of the seamen and Marines had landed on the Mole and were making fine play with the astonished Germans.  Some went right to the head of the Mole and found the guns deserted.  One gun, I must tell you, had not even been uncovered, which is clear proof that the garrison was taken by surprise.  Others were chasing the enemy all down the Mole towards the viaduct, which they were never to cross, and some went into the shed I told you about and dealt with such people as they found.

"The men in the fighting-top were also doing fell work.  All along the Mole, you see, and close under the fifteen-foot parapet, there are dug-outs or funk-holes.  At first the Huns popped into these, but by-and-by it occurred to them that they would certainly be found and spitted if they stayed there, so the bright idea occurred to them of nipping across the Mole and dropping down the side into their own destroyers lying there.  An excellent scheme but for our fellows in the fighting-top, who picked them off with their Lewis guns as they ran.

"Those chaps in the fighting-top had to pay for it, though, in the end.  They were attracting a lot of attention, and the Huns were constantly trying to drop a shell amongst them.  They succeeded at last, I'm sorry to say, and laid out every man jack but one - Sergeant Finch.  He was wounded badly, but dragged himself out from under the bodies of his pals and went on working his little gun until he couldn't work it any longer.

"Now we come to the block-ships.  We saw Thetis come steaming into the harbour in grand style.  She made straight for the opening to the Canal, and you can imagine that she was a blaze of light and a target for every big thing they could bring to bear.  She was going toppingly, all the same, when she had the rotten luck to catch her propeller in the defence-nets.  Even then, however, she did fine work.  She signalled instructions to the Intrepid and Iphigenia, and so they managed to avoid the nets.  It was a gorgeous piece of cooperation!

"And, by the way, I'm not at all sure that Thetis won't give even more trouble to the enemy than the other two.  I told you something, I think, about the tendency of the harbour to silt up.  Well, Thetis is lying plump in the channel that must always be kept clear of silt.  The consequence is that the silt will collect all round her and over her, and I doubt whether she will ever be removable.

"To get back to the other block-ships.  In went Intrepid, and in after her went Iphigenia.  They weren't content, you know, to sink themselves at the mouth of the Canal.  That was not the idea at all.  They had to go right in, with guns firing point-blank at them from both banks, sink their ships, and get back as best they could.  And they did it.

"They blocked that Canal as neatly and effectively as we could have wished in our most optimistic moments, and then, thanks to the little motor-launches, which were handled with the finest skill and pluck, the commanders and men got back to safety.  Tomorrow I'll show you some aeroplane photographs which are due in from France, and you'll see for yourself how beautifully Intrepid and Iphigenia are lying.

"As soon as we saw that the block-ships were sunk we knew that our job was done.  Now came the most ticklish part of the business - to get away.  Up to this point we had been protected, so far as our hull was concerned, by the Mole.  We knew that, directly we left the Mole, we should be in for it.

"The signal arranged for the men to re-embark was a long blast from Vindictive's siren.  But that had gone with a lot of other tackle, so we did the best we could with Daffodil's little hooter.  (Ferry passengers across the Mersey must know it well.)  It wasn't much of a hoot, but the fellows heard it, and made for the scaling-ladders.

"This was the Hun's chance.  The fire turned on those chaps as they clambered up the ladders, most of them trying to carry a dead or wounded pal, was awful.  Talk about heroism!  Every man was a hero!  You must ask some of them who actually landed to tell you about that.  Wonderful!

"We got them aboard at last, and stayed to make certain that nobody was left behind.  Then we shoved off from the Mole, which had had enough of us for one night, and made for home at our best speed.  Instantly the big shore-guns and everything else vicious blazed away, but the very wind which had turned against us when we arrived now stood our friend.

"We worked all our smoke-boxes like mad, and the smoke saved us.  They landed some shells home, of course, and a lot of poor fellows in the Iris were killed by one shell just as they were leaving the Mole.  But most of the stuff aimed at the Vindictive fell short, thank God, and we finally ran out of range.

"It was a good fight.  I think the Huns saw their ending that night."

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British Admiralty Statement on the Zeebrugge and Ostend Raids

British Admiralty Statement on the Zeebrugge and Ostend Raids, 22-23 April 1918

The objectives were the canal of Zeebrugge and the entrance to the harbour of Ostend.

Three cruisers, Intrepid, Iphigenia and Thetis, each duly packed with concrete and with mines attached to her bottom for the purpose of sinking her, Merrimac-fashion, in the neck of the canal, were aimed at Zeebrugge; two others, similarly prepared, were directed at Ostend.

The old cruiser Vindictive, with two ferry-boats, Iris and Daffodil, was to attack the great half-moon Mole which guards the Zeebrugge Canal, land blue-jackets and marines upon it, destroy what stores, guns, and Germans she could find, and generally create a diversion while the block-ships ran in and sank themselves in their appointed place.  Vice-Admiral Keyes, in the destroyer Warwick, commanded the operation.

There had been two previous attempts at the attack, capable of being pushed home if weather and other conditions had served.  The night of the 22nd offered nearly all the required conditions, and at some fifteen miles off Zeebrugge the ships took up their formation for the attack.

Vindictive, which had been towing Iris and Daffodil, cast them off to follow under their own steam; Intrepid, Iphigenia, and Thetis slowed down to give the first three time to get alongside the Mole; Sirius and Brilliant shifted their course for Ostend; and the great swarm of destroyers and motor craft sowed themselves abroad upon their multifarious particular duties.

The night was overcast and there was a drift of haze; down the coast a great searchlight swung its beams to and fro; there was a small wind and a short sea.

From Vindictive's bridge, as she headed in towards the Mole with her faithful ferry-boats at her heels, there was scarcely a glimmer of light to be seen shorewards.  Ahead of her, as she drove through the water, rolled the smoke-screen, her cloak of invisibility, wrapped about her by the small craft.

The northeast wind moved the volume of it shoreward ahead of the slips; beyond it, the distant town and its defenders were unsuspicious; and it was not till Vindictive, with her blue-jackets and marines standing ready for the landing, was close upon the Mole that the wind lulled and came away again from the southwest, sweeping back the smoke-screen and laying her bare to the eyes that looked seaward.

There was a moment immediately afterwards when it seemed to those in the ships as if the dim coast and the hidden harbour exploded into light.  A star shell soared aloft, then a score of star shells; the wavering beams of the search-lights swung round and settled to a glare; the wildfire of gun flashes leaped against the sky; strings of luminous green beads shot aloft, hung and sank; and the darkness of the night was supplanted by the nightmare daylight of battle fires.

Guns and machine guns along the Mole and batteries ashore woke to life, and it was in a gale of shelling that Vindictive laid her nose against the thirty-foot high concrete side of the Mole, let go an anchor, and signed to Daffodil to shove her stern in.  Iris went ahead and endeavoured to get alongside likewise.

The fire, from the account of everybody concerned, was intense.  While ships plunged and rolled beside the Mole in an unexpected send of sea, Vindictive with her greater draught jarring against the foundation of the Mole with every plunge, they were swept diagonally by machine-gun fire from both ends of the Mole and by heavy batteries ashore.

Commander A. F. B. Carpenter (afterward Captain) conned Vindictive from her open bridge till her stern was laid in, when he took up his position in the flame-thrower hut on the port side.  It is marvellous that any occupant of the hut should have survived a minute, so riddled and shattered is it.

Officers of Iris, which was in trouble ahead of Vindictive, describe Captain Carpenter as "handling her like a picket-boat."

Vindictive was fitted along the port side with a high false deck, whence ran the eighteen brows, or gangways, by which the storming and demolition parties were to land.  The men were gathered in readiness on the main and lower decks.  The gangways were lowered, and scraped and rebounded upon the high parapet of the Mole as Vindictive rolled; and the word for the assault had not yet been given when both leaders of the assault were killed by the machine-gun fire which swept the decks.

"The men were magnificent."  Every officer bears the same testimony.  The mere landing on the Mole was a perilous business; it involved a passage across the crashing, splintering gangways, a drop over the parapet into the field of fire of the German machine guns which swept its length, and a further drop of some sixteen feet to the surface of the Mole itself.

Many were killed and more were wounded as they crowded up to the gangways; but nothing hindered the orderly and speedy landing by every gangway.

The lower deck was a shambles as the Commander made the rounds of his ship; yet those wounded and dying raised themselves to cheer as he made his tour.  The crew of the howitzer which was mounted forward had all been killed; a second crew was destroyed likewise; and even then a third crew was taking over the gun.

In the stern cabin a firework expert, who had never been to sea before, was steadily firing great illuminating rockets out of a scuttle to show up the lighthouse on the end of the Mole to the block ships and their escort.

The Daffodil, after aiding to berth Vindictive, should have proceeded to land her own men, but now Commander Carpenter ordered her to remain as she was, with her bows against Vindictive's quarter, pressing the latter ship into the Mole.

Iris had troubles of her own.  Her first attempts to make fast to the Mole ahead of Vindictive failed, as her grapnels were not large enough to span the parapet.  Two officers climbed ashore and sat astride the parapet trying to make the grapnels fast till each was killed and fell down between the ship and the wall.

Iris was obliged at last to change her position and fall in astern of Vindictive, and suffered very heavily from the fire.  A single big shell plunged through the upper deck and burst below at a point where fifty-six marines were waiting the order to go to the gangways.  Forty-nine were killed and the remaining seven wounded.

Another shell in the ward-room, which was serving as sick bay, killed four officers and twenty-six men.  Her total casualties were eight officers and sixty-nine men killed and three officers and a hundred and two men wounded.

The storming and demolition parties upon the Mole met with no resistance from the Germans, other than the in-tense and unremitting fire.  The geography of the great Mole, with its railway line and its many buildings, hangars, and store-sheds, was already well known, and the demolition parties moved to their appointed work in perfect order.

One after another the buildings burst into flame or split and crumpled as the dynamite went off.

A bombing party, working up towards the Mole extension in search of the enemy, destroyed several machine-gun emplacements, but not a single prisoner rewarded them.  It appears that upon the approach of the ships, and with the opening of the fire, the enemy simply retired and contented themselves with bringing machine guns to the shore end of the Mole.

And while they worked and destroyed, the covering party below the parapet could see in the harbour, by the light of the German star-shells, the shapes of the block ships stealing in and out of their own smoke and making for the mouth of the canal.

Thetis came first, steaming into a tornado of shell from the great batteries ashore.  All her crew, save a remnant who remained to steam her in and sink her, had already been taken off her by the ubiquitous motor launches, but the remnant spared hands enough to keep her four guns going. It was hers to show the road to Intrepid and Iphigenia, who followed.

She cleared the string of armed barges which defends the channel from the tip of the Mole, but had the ill-fortune to foul one of her propellers upon the net defence which flanks it on the shore side.  The propeller gathered in the net and rendered her practically unmanageable; the shore batteries found her and pounded her unremittingly; she bumped into a bank, edged off, and found herself in the channel again, still some hundreds of yards from the mouth of the canal, in a practically sinking condition.

As she lay she signalled invaluable directions to the others, and here her commander blew the charges and sank her.  A motor launch raced alongside and took off her crew.  Her losses were five killed and five wounded.

Intrepid, smoking like a volcano and with all her guns blazing, followed; her motor launch had failed to get along-side outside the harbour, and she had men enough for anything.  Straight into the canal she steered, her smoke blowing back from her into Iphigenia's eyes, so that the latter, blinded and going a little wild, rammed a dredger with a barge moored beside it, which lay at the western arm of the canal.

She got clear though, and entered the canal pushing the barge before her.  It was then that a shell hit the steam connections of her whistle, and the escape of steam which followed drove off some of the smoke and let her see what she was doing.

The commander of the Intrepid placed the nose of his ship neatly on the mud of the western bank, ordered his crew away, and blew up his ship by the switches in the chart-room.

Four dull bumps was all that could be heard; and immediately afterwards there arrived on deck the engineer, who had been in the engine-room during the explosion and reported that all was as it should be.

The commander of Iphigenia beached her according to arrangement on the eastern side, blew her up, saw her drop nicely across the canal, and left her with her engines still going to hold her in position till she should have bedded well down on the bottom.

According to latest reports from air observation, the two old ships with their holds full of concrete are lying across the canal in a V position; and the work they set out to do has been accomplished.  The canal is effectively blocked.

The whole harbour was alive with small craft.  As the motor launches cleared the canal, and came forth to the incessant geysers thrown tip by the shells, rescuers and rescued had a view of yet another phase of the attack.

The shore end of the Mole consists of a jetty, and here an old submarine, loaded with explosives, was run into the piles and touched off, her crew getting away in a boat to where the usual launch awaited them.

Officers describe the explosion as the greatest they ever witnessed - a huge roaring spout of flame that tore the jetty in half and left a gap of over 100 feet.  The claim of another launch to have sunk a torpedo-boat alongside the jetty is supported by many observers, including officers of the Vindictive, who had seen her mast and funnel across the Mole and noticed them disappear.

Where every moment had its deed and every deed its hero, a recital of acts of valour becomes a mere catalogue.

"The men were magnificent," say the officers; the men's opinion of their leaders expresses itself in the manner in which they followed them, in their cheers, in their demeanour to-day while they tidy up their battered ships, setting aside the inevitable souvenirs, from the bullet-torn engines to great chunks of Zeebrugge Mole dragged down and still hanging in the fenders of the Vindictive.

The motor launch from the canal cleared the end of the Mole and there beheld, trim and ready, the shape of the Warwick, with the great silk flag presented to the Admiral by the officers of his old ship, the Centurion.  They stood up on the crowded decks of the little craft and cheered it again and again.

While the Warwick took them on board, they saw Vindictive, towed loose from the Mole by Daffodil, turn and make for home - a great black shape, with funnels gapped and leaning out of the true, flying a vast streamer of flame as her stokers worked her up - her, the almost wreck - to a final display of seventeen knots.

Her forward funnel was a sieve; her decks were a dazzle of sparks; but she brought back intact the horseshoe nailed to it, which had been presented to her commander.

Meantime the destroyers North Star, Phoebe, and Warwick, which guarded the Vindictive from action by enemy destroyers while she lay beside the Mole, had their share in the battle.

North Star, losing her way in the smoke, emerged to the light of the star-shells, and was sunk.  The German communiqué, which states that only a few members of the crew could be saved by them, is in this detail of an unusual accuracy, for the Phoebe came up under a heavy fire in time to rescue nearly all.

Throughout the operations monitors and the siege guns in Flanders, manned by the Royal Marine Artillery, heavily bombarded the enemy's batteries.

The wind that blew back the smoke-screen at Zeebrugge served us even worse off Ostend, where that and nothing else prevented the success of an operation ably directed by Commodore Hubert Lynes, C.M.G.

The coastal motor boats had lit the approaches and the ends of the piers with calcium flares and made a smoke-cloud which effectually hid the fact from the enemy

Sirius and Brilliant were already past the Stroom Bank buoy when the wind changed, revealing the arrangements to the enemy, who extinguished the flares with gunfire.

The Sirius was already in a sinking condition when at length the two ships, having failed to find the entrance, grounded, and were forced therefore to sink themselves at a point about four hundred yards east of the piers, and their crews were taken off by motor launches.

Source: Source Records of the Great War, Vol. VI, ed. Charles F. Horne, National Alumni 1923

British Admiralty Statement on the Raid Upon Ostend, 11 May 1918

The Sirius lies in the surf some two thousand yards east of the entrance to Ostend Harbor, which she failed so gallantly to block; and when, in the early hours of yesterday morning, the Vindictive groped her way through the smoke-screen and headed for the entrance, it was as though the old fighting-ship awoke and looked on.

A coastal motor-boat had visited her and hung a flare in her slack and rusty rigging; and that eye of unsteady fire, paling in the blaze of the star-shells or reddening through the drift of the smoke, watched the whole great enterprise, from the moment when it hung in doubt to its ultimate triumphant success.

The planning and execution of that success had been entrusted by the Vice-Admiral, Sir Roger Keyes, to Commodore Hubert Lynes, C.M.G., who directed the previous attempt to block the harbour with Sirius and Brilliant.

There was no preliminary bombardment of the harbour and the batteries as before the previous attempt; that was to be the first element in the surprise.

A timetable had been laid down for every stage of the operation; and the staff work beforehand had even included precise orders for the laying of the smoke barrage, with plans calculated for every direction of wind.

The monitors, anchored in their firing-positions far to seaward, awaited their signal; the great siege batteries of the Royal Marine Artillery in Flanders - among the largest guns that have ever been placed on land-mountings - stood by likewise to neutralize the big German artillery along the coast; and the airmen who were to collaborate with an aerial bombardment of the town waited somewhere in the darkness overhead.  The destroyers patrolled to seaward of the small craft.

The Vindictive, always at that solemn gait of hers, found the flagship's light-buoy and bore up for where a coastal motor-boat was waiting by a calcium flare upon the old position of the Stroom Bank buoy.

Four minutes before she arrived there, and fifteen minutes only before she was due at the harbour mouth, the signal for the guns to open was given.  Two motor-boats dashed in towards the ends of the high wooden piers and torpedoed them.

There was a machine-gun on the end of the western pier, and that vanished in the roar and the leap of flame and debris which called to the guns.  Over the town a flame suddenly appeared high in air, and sank slowly earthwards - the signal that the aeroplanes had seen and understood; and almost coincident with their first bombs came the first shells whooping up from the monitors at sea.

The surprise part of the attack was sprung.

The surprise, despite the Germans' watchfulness, seems to have been complete.  Up till the moment when the torpedoes of the motor-boats exploded, there had not been a shot from the land - only occasional routine star-shells.

The motor-launches were doing their work magnificently.  These pocket-warships, manned by officers and men of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, are specialists at smoke-production; they built to either hand of the Vindictive's course the likeness of a dense sea-mist driving landward with the wind.

The star-shells paled and were lost as they sank in it; the beams of the searchlights seemed to break off short upon its front.  It blinded the observers of the great batteries when suddenly, upon the warning of the explosions, the guns roared into action.

It was then that those on the destroyers became aware that what had seemed to be merely smoke was wet and cold, that the rigging was beginning to drip, that there were no longer any stars - a sea-fog had come on.

The destroyers had to turn on their lights and use their sirens to keep in touch with each other; the air attack was suspended, and Vindictive, with some distance yet to go, found herself in gross darkness.

There were motor-boats to either side of her, escorting her to the entrance, and these were supplied with what are called Dover flares - enormous lights capable of illuminating square miles of sea at once.  A pistol was fired as a signal to light these; but the fog and the smoke together were too dense for even the flares.

Vindictive then put her helm over and started to cruise to find the entrance.  Twice in her wanderings she must have passed across it, and at her third turn, upon reaching the position at which she had first lost her way, there came a rift in the mist, and she saw the entrance clear, the piers to either side and the opening dead ahead.

The inevitable motor-boat dashed up, raced on into the opening under a heavy and momentarily growing fire, and planted a flare on the water between the piers.  Vindictive steamed over it and on.  She was in.

The guns found her at once.  She was hit every few seconds after she entered, her scarred hull broken afresh in a score of places and her decks and upper works swept.

The after-control was demolished by a shell which killed all its occupants.  Upper and lower bridges and chart-room were swept by bullets.  The Vindictive laid her battered nose to the eastern pier and prepared to swing her 320 feet of length across the channel.  She was soon lying at an angle of about forty degrees to the pier, and seemed to be hard and fast, so that it was impossible to bring her further round.

The engineer, who was the last to leave the engine-room, blew the main charges by the switch installed aft.  Those on board felt the old ship shrug as the explosive tore the bottom plates and the bulkheads from her; she sank about six feet and lay upon the bottom of the channel.  Her work was done.

Source: Source Records of the Great War, Vol. VI, ed. Charles F. Horne, National Alumni 1923

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