Classic Audiobook Collection - Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick Thomas Jane ~ Full Audiobook [scifi]

Episode Date: October 17, 2023

Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick Thomas Jane audiobook. Genre: scifi In the tense, near-future waters of the 1890s, Britain faces the nightmare its newspapers only half dare to imagine: a sudden war at sea against France and Russia, fought with fast torpedo craft, new tactics, and unforgiving modern weapons. Into the chaos steps Lieutenant Edward Blake of the torpedo-boat Rattlesnake, a hard-driving officer whose faith in naval skill and disciplined daring clashes with political hesitation, public complacency, and the fragile systems that keep an island nation supplied. As coastal alarms spread and fleet actions erupt, Blake is thrown from desperate skirmishes to high-stakes convoy work, forced to make ruthless choices about risk, responsibility, and the price of command. Along the way, a personal attachment complicates his sense of duty, while the Admiralty and the nation argue over what must be done to survive. Packed with diagrams, shipboard detail, and breathless engagements drawn from the author’s deep naval knowledge, this is both an action tale and a warning: in a war decided by seconds and steel, England’s fate may hinge on one commander’s nerve. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:04:50) Chapter 01 (00:30:42) Chapter 02 (01:07:52) Chapter 03 (01:34:57) Chapter 04 (01:46:43) Chapter 05 (02:05:53) Chapter 06 (02:21:59) Chapter 07 (02:45:18) Chapter 08 (02:58:32) Chapter 09 (03:17:27) Chapter 10 (03:28:38) Chapter 11 (03:46:53) Chapter 12 (04:04:38) Chapter 13 (04:28:28) Chapter 14 (04:42:29) Chapter 15 (04:54:05) Chapter 16 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick Thomas Jane. Preface. I have not sought or attempted in this story to settle any vexed questions of theories or tactics. Such matters are no concern of mine. I have tried instead to work into story form some of the romance that clings thick around the torpedo service, to set forth some of the poetry latent in torpedo craft. Any other aims I may have had in view are, I trust, sufficiently obvious in the text to need no mention here. It has been my good fortune to have had a good share of experience in torpedo craft during the naval maneuvers of the last few years,

and on incidents thus participated in, I have based this tale. Maneuvers, of course, are not war, but in the torpedo service at any rate, they are carried out with as much approximation to the actual thing as can be managed. For the rest, I have sought to work out my work out my results from what is held by those who, in the event of war, will have to stake their lives upon their beliefs. I have endeavored, as far as may be, to avoid anything savoring of the improbable, while giving as much allowance as possible to that ever-present element in torpedo work, luck. This ever a feature in warfare increases as the years go on, and as scientific devices multiply,

however non-existent it may theoretically be. I am indebted to very many naval friends for suggestions that have materially aided the development of this tale, so many indeed that space will not permit of an individual recognition. The trouble they have taken will, I trust, not be thrown away, and I have ventured to hope that this attempt to depict modern warfare from this service point of view will convince the present and the rising generation

that scientific advance has not yet eliminated the romance that, let peace fattice say what they will, clings, and ever has clung around war, and that man, the veer, is not yet supplanted by man, the homo. I dimly feel that I owe my readers some sort of apology for not having prated on the need of admiralty reform. It's the fashion to abuse that body, to imply that they are a set of muddle-headed, boobies and all the rest of it. In a sense, they may be, in that they calmly submit to all this

interference from self-appointed critics. Personally, I feel that where the energy thus wasted, expended in agitation, to give the Admiralty powers to act unfettered by the 600 talking asses at Westminster, in transferring to the Navy some of the money frittered away on our, comparatively speaking, useless army, in attempts to nullify the invertebrate knaves of little Englanders, who, whenever imperial questions come up for discussion, do their evil best to prove that modern England can, and does produce specimens of humanity that are a disgrace to the name of Britain. Were it thus expended, we should be in far less danger of going to leeward. However, the chiefest glory of a democracy, under such as we now live, is the privilege of every fool to teach other men their

business. Two thousand years and more ago, the Athenian Empire found this sort of thing disastrous. The day may come when we shall learn so too. I would say one final word to those who object to these future war yarns on the grounds that they are likely to set other nations, at present friendly to us by the years. Foreign writers are frequently turning out similar stories, describing the utter destruction of the British Navy by their own, yet I never heard of any of us, bearing them ill will for it. May our warfare of the future long be confined to the pages of books, as indeed it will be, so long as foreign nations know that we are ready to tackle the lot of them, if need be.

written in Chelsea 1895 This is the end of the preface Chapter 1 of Blake of the Rattlesnake This is the Libervox recording All Librevox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit Librevox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina

Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick Thomas Jane. Chapter 1. Torpedoed at sea. Well, I'll lay anybody three to one that we don't see any French torpedo boats between here in Plymouth. No thanks, Pursar. I'm not keen enough on winning that bet to take you on. Added to which, if we do come across any, there'll be no one left for you to hand the dollars over to. By Jove, Gray, you are a croaker and no mistake, laughed the commander. It's easy to see that you've been associating too much with the Vernon fellows and getting inoculated with the cult of the omnipotent torpedo. Well, anyway, sir, I'd rather be going into action against a big fleet of battleships, and that's no great catch in an old tub like this, is it?

None of us would ever come out of it, I guess, except maybe the doctors and the fellows below. However, I'm after a sherry and bitters at present. Who's in for a swindle? Next moment the three of them were deep in the mysteries of poker dice, regardless of war and its inevitable consequences, the future would bring quite enough worry of that sort. There was no need to fill the present with forebodings of evil. I give this bit of conversation because it has run in my head ever since in the way that trivial things like this will run. Whenever my thoughts go back to those stirring days, the first picture in my mind is ever since. The first picture in my mind is ever. this unimportant little incident. I can still see them bending over the white tablecloth, still hear the loud laugh of the commander, as the paymaster, throwing with a peculiar turn of the hand that he swore by, failed to secure more than a single pair against the full hands of the others.

Alas, that it should be but a memory of the dead, a memory of men going calmly to their dooms, knowing as they went that no other fate could be in store for them. for this was the day on which England went to war. The war, as you doubtless remember, broke out quite suddenly and unexpectedly just after the maneuvers in 1890-something. As to say how it came about

that we were embroiled with France and Russia, I can't exactly say. Politics are not in the sailors' line. All I know about it is that when our fleet put into Milford Haven at the end of the maneuvers, Instead of our being inspected and sent home to pay off, in the usual fashion, we were kept hanging about doing nothing in Dale Harbor, and all leave was stopped.

This stoppage of leave troubled us a good deal more than the war scare, which nobody expected to come to anything. War scares were common in those days, so we stuck on board, cursing and grumbling at our ill luck, till one fateful afternoon came telegrams, saying that war was declared. The spell of peace was ended at last. The long-expected thunder-cloud had burst in all its violence. All our ships were complete with coal, but there were a thousand and one other things to be seen to, letters to be written to those who might never hear from us again, fresh provisions to be got in, things to be made snug for sea,

and innumerable little odds and ends. It was a busy day for everybody. I was at this period an acting sub in the Nelson, a rather useless old packet, and the lame duck of our squadron. Having done a verning course and got a one, I should by rights have been in a torpedo boat, but the Nelson's skipper, an old ship made of mine,

had offered me a berth as signal-mady in her, and a jolly comfortable billet it was. Far preferable to roughing things in a torpedo boat, living on sardines in potted meat. The bugle went for dinner, and we all trooped into the wardroom as usual. We had no gun-room mess in the Nelson, she being a mobilized ship. The meal was a hurried one, but that was more because we were to put to sea at one bell than because we were so soon to face the unknown with its terrible possibilities. Conversation was naturally all about the war and its prospects, and the probability of our being

turned over to some more efficient ship when we got to Portsmouth. "'It's quite on the cards,' said the commander, "'that the Dunderheads at the A will look up this ship and, seeing her down as a first-class armored cruiser, send her off to chase some twenty-not Frenchmen.' And no one was bold enough to deny his words. The Admiralty could never get it out of their heads in those days that a ship grows old as quickly as a racehorse does. I hope to God this war business gets peaceably settled before we have a fight, said Lieutenant Blake. For there's never a fellow will come out of it alive. It's just do your duty and die.

Some of the mess were inclined to rally the pessimistic plague on his chicken-heartedness, but our old number one called across the table to him. All right, my boy, you're down for a VC. All you chaps who croak in that fashion go and cut a dash later on. Well, I hope I'll do it better than I did in number 92, replied Blake with a laugh. Number 92 torpedo boat, commanded by Blake, had badly damaged herself a few days before,

through colliding with another boat off the haven. And while she was lying useless in harbor, Blake had been temporarily sent to us, we being a lieutenant short in the Nelson. There was a good laugh at Blake's joke against himself, and after that we got Marrier. Indeed, by the time we'd drunk the queen, we were all as chirpy as the commander was before dinner. There's nothing like a good meal for pulling a fellow together.

There is so much about Blake in this story that some sort of description of him should be forthcoming. Though I'm a bad hand at that kind of thing. Clean-shaved, save for the slight service whiskers he affected, of medium height, rather gaunt. There was little in his outward appearance to distinguish him from other non-bearded officers of his rank. The sea service sets its indelible mark upon all its votaries, and whatever the original features of the boy, when he grows to manhood, his arduous duties mold his expression into one universal type. Responsibility stamps its seal on the mouth and eyes of every naval officer, making it patent to the world that he is a man of action. For the rest, Blake, like all executive officers,

was devoted heart and soul to his profession. Indeed, he went so far that it even became a proverb in the wardrobe. Looking on politicians of both parties as names, knaves alike, contemptuous of civilian control of the fleet, callous to all amusements, and interested in nothing save insofar as it touched his profession, he was a man marked out to rise and succeed from the first. Blake, said an old admiral of his, is the sort of fellow to attack a fleet of battleships with a second-class cruiser, and to manage to come out top. And this, whatever doleful prognestications he might make, was about the tally we all took of him.

When I got on deck again, it was to find that the catchers and cruisers had already gone out of harbor, and before long we followed suit. I suppose our admiral did not care to risk a torpedo attack in a place like Dale Harbor, where there were no boom defenses, and which the maneuvers had shown to be all too, open to torpedo attack, so intended to assume the vigorous offensive. Our fleet consisted of the battleships majestic, royal sovereign, thunderer, resolution, our ship Nelson, which was classed as an armor-belted cruiser, the belted cruisers' immortality and Narcissus,

first and second-class cruisers Blenham, Iphaginia, Tribune, Latona, And the third-class cruiser, Belona. We had besides, some four or five catchers, whose names I cannot now remember, but one of them was the Halcyon, which had only returned that morning from a scouting expedition. She had lain quite near us on her return, and we had speculated much on some holes in her bow

that looked uncommonly like shot-holes. Her skipper had been a very long time on board the flagship, whither he had been called after having begun, gun a semaphore about the enemy's torpedo boats. I did not hear till later what it actually happened. Indeed, I am never quite clear about it. Since the matter was kept as quiet as possible, but as far as I can gather, the halcyon, scouting off the haven the night before, had almost run into a couple of French torpedo boats, which did not notice her at first, the night being very thick. These boats, which were slowly steaming

towards Milford with tubes trained to beam, turned tail and made away at full speed, as soon as ever they sighted the halcyon. But there being a tidy bit of sea on, the catcher was easily able to overhaul them. No two accounts agree as to what happened next, save that the boats went down with all on board, and as the house-in was lost herself the very next night, it will never be known exactly how it all came about. But it seems probable that the Housian skipper destroyed the boats in order to put it out of their power, to do any mischief they might have been intent on doing so soon as war should be declared. I had often heard this sort of action advocated as an absolutely necessary course by torpedo men, who knew pretty well what they were talking about, and there was

little doubt that in such a course was wisdom, and it probably saved a good many lives. Nevertheless, I doubt not, but that there'd have been a devil of a rumpus had it leaked out at the time. Whatever he heard from the Housian, the Admiral kept his own counsel, and we went out to see in single column of line ahead. All lights were, of course, carefully concealed, and we kept station quite six cables apart, the cruisers and catchers scouting ahead and outside of us, our course lying towards the Sillies. As you may guess, there was little inclination to turn in on this the first night of the war, and though I had to keep the morning watch, I went up on the quarter-deck,

where our Marine captain and several other fellows intended going to sleep under the quick-firing guns, so as to be on the spot if any attack took place. All the guns were cast loose and loaded, while boxes of ammunition stood about the decks in readiness for immediate use should they be required. The torpedo nets were not regularly out, as that would have prevented our steaming at anything like a respectable rate, but they were triced up on the booms, ready to lower at very short notice. all round the bulwarks and in the fighting tops were men on the lookout, and the captain and commander were both on the bridge all the night, searching the horizon for hostile vessels. But up to two o'clock nothing had been sighted. The night was a thick one, and the officer of the watch several times lost sight of the royal quid, which was our next ahead. Worked as the Nelson was from the after-bridge, it was hard enough to keep stationed at night even when position lights were used. Now, without even a stern light for guidance, the difficulty was trebled. It must have been about six bells in the middle watch,

that a great cloud passed over the vaporish moon, deepening the prevailing gloom. Through the clouds peeped a solitary star, a sickly-looking planet well nigh overhead, and as I gazed up at it, the power of the situation fell upon me. It became the frowning eye of an evil fate, luring and leading to trouble to come. I watched and shivered. A presentiment of disaster stole upon me. For a while I fought against it, but without much success, feelings of this sort come of their own volition, and man is powerless to drive them away. And so the night wore on. After a bit, I went below to try and get a drink of something, for I was smoking.

Doked as a lime kiln, and also badly needed something to pull me together. As I made my way to the wardroom along the lower deck, half-dazed by the sudden change from darkness to light, my nerves were all ajarred by a cry on deck. Torpedo boat coming up astern! Bang went one of the after-quick-firing guns, then came shot after shot in rapid succession, while between the firing came the sound of the Bosen's whistles, as the watch was called a man and arm ship. I was born on deck amid a crowd of half-awake blue jackets, who had been sleeping under arms in the main deck. It was dark as pitch, but in the flashes of the firing

I could just make out our sides, lined with men firing wildly in every direction. Round the hatchways were crowds of blue jackets and Marines, tumbling over the gear and ropes, cursing, swearing and yelling, their loaded rifles going off every now and again in their excitement. Our ship's company was largely made up of boys from the Bascawan and naval reserve men, and most of these were quite overcome with panic. I rushed on to the afterbridge, remaining there some ten minutes while this pandemonium continued. Then the officers having, by free use of their swords, restored some sort of order, the firing was stopped, and an unnatural silence reigned.

The skipper concluding that it had been a false alarm, called the men aft and gave them his mind in no very gentle terms. Then, the rest of the fleet having disappeared altogether, he ordered the torpedo nets to be got out, having decided to lie to till daylight. While this job was being seen to, I overheard the purser, who, with most of the non-executive officers, was standing by the chart house, again offer his bed about torpedo boats. In fact, they were all laughing about the late scene,

The searchlights were now burning brightly, dancing over the water, but they revealed nothing save crested billows, till a chance beam fell on a small vessel to starboard, apparently coming bows on towards us, and firing as she came. Every gun on our starboard side was discharged at her before any orders could be given, and some of the six-pounders must have made good shooting, for we saw her lurch heavily over on one side and begin to settle down, whereat our men cheered lustily and blazed away with renewed energy.

It was but a momentary glimpse, for the port-pou guns now began to fire, while a blue light burned from somewhere forward increased the smoke and blur around us. For one instant we saw a little black hole, belching sparks and flame from a red-hot funnel. The next, a thunderstorm seemed to burst about us. Everyone was thrown violently to the deck.

Guns, boats, and torpedo booms were flung in all directions, while from above a mighty waterspout descending completely wrecked the afterbridge, washing everything into the starboard scuppers. The ship gave one awful, trembling heave, and then fell back with a tremendous list to port. As I extricated myself from the wreckage, I saw Blake rush to a three-pounder hutchkis and plump a shot into the,

the torpedo boat, which had now come up quite close and opened fire on us with her machine guns. This, so far as I know, was the only shot discharged after the explosion. All order and discipline were at once lost, and a general Sov Kipur seemed order of the day. Our immobilized crew had no cohesion, no trust in each other. The reserve men, unused to any discipline, became more dangerous to their fellows than the foe was. Most of the officers had disappeared. The wave of the torpedo explosion had washed them away. And, to add to the confusion, a crowd of stokers, panic-stricken by the horrible scenes in the engine room, against which the torpedo had burst, came rushing madly up from below.

"'Come along with me, Bovary!' cried Blake, who ran past me at that moment. "'Quick! There is not a moment to lose if we are to do anything at all!' I started to follow him, forcing my way through the press, but I had not gone very far before something hit me a tremendous whack on the head, and I fell half-dazed against the ruins of the chart-house to lie there helplessly watching Blake, who seemed to be the only executive officer left trying to get some sort of order. Men were jumping overboard in dozens. Boats were being lowered that must have capsized as soon as they touched the water, so overcrowded were they, while all the time came the ping-ping of bullets from the torpedo boat,

tearing through wherever the men were thickest. My servant, plucky, good-hearted fellow that he was, came up to me with a life-belt, and somehow got me into it. Scarcely had he done so when there came another rush, black heaving water bearing all before it. Then, afar off, as it now seemed, I saw the old Nelson's bows sliding rapidly under water. a searchlight still burning, shooting its ray up towards the lowering sky above

till it met that solitary evil star, which still gazed calmly down upon the strife and turmoil below. The cold water revived me, and I struck out for the scene of the wreck as well as I was able, hoping against hope that either one of our boats might have survived, or that the enemy might pick me up. As it chanced, I came across two boats, tossing upside down in the sea, the violently agitated water, and these were crowded with men clinging to them. I hung on with the rest, glad indeed to have some companions in misfortune, and my gladness was increased when from the other boat I heard the voice of Blake, bidding the men be of good cheer. I swam over to this boat and got a place beside him. Before we could say anything, however, we spotted the

Torpillot-Eau-de-Otmere, steaming slowly towards us. I was a little. I was a about to sing out to them when Blake sternly ordered everyone to be silent. I'm going to capture her, he said. Under any other circumstances, I think I should have laughed. But hanging by your eyelids to a capsized whaler is no place for merriment, so I just made ready to obey any orders he might give. When I give the word, board her, said Blake in a whisper, and the order was passed to those clinging to the gig.

Soon the torpedo boat was close upon us, and an officer on board called out to us in English to ask whether we surrendered. No! shouted Blake. Follow me! Everybody who can swim! And he plunged into the water on what seemed to me the maddest forlorn hope that was ever entered upon. Yet, as it chanced, in its very madness lay our hope of success. For a minute, a fatal minute to them, the Frenchman simply stood still and stared at

us. Then, realizing that the attack was in serious earnest, they began to fire at us with rifles, while their captain tried to make the boat steam away. But the Nelson's fire had not entirely missed her, and a shot somewhere near the engines had filled one compartment and reduced her speed to a crawl. Before they could do anything, the majority of us were upon them, clambering over her sides. We did not, of course, do this without loss. Their skipper bowled over several of our men with his revolver. Others were hurled back into the sea. But the space was too limited for the enemy to do much.

A good twenty of us were quickly on the deck, and the nine or ten Frenchmen there had a very short shift. In less time that it takes to write, the boat was in our possession, and her crew, prisoners. Blake went to the helm, and having sent some of our fellows down to keep the French Stokers hard at it, steered for the spot where the Nelson had gone down, for we had drifted some way from there in the scuffle,

and here we were fortunate enough to rescue about a dozen more men who still clung to bits of wreckage. Then we turned towards Milford, the white lighthouse on St. Anne's head, being just visible in the growing dawn. On the way, Blake and I exchanged experiences about the night's fighting, and I asked him how he came to hit on the wild idea that had been our salvation. Well, said he, as soon as I knew the Nelson was done for, I ran to a QFed gun and put a shot into the torpedo boats' engines.

Then I knew she wouldn't be able to get far away. And I had doubts as to how many of our boats would live when the ship went under. Then I picked out as many marines and regular blue jackets as I could lay hands on, and just before the end we got into the water. over the port side. Of course we all went down with the ship, but most of us came up again. The rest, you know. It's better than a French prison or Davy Jones's locker. Then we felt amusing over those we should never see again. Brother officer sent to their last account with hardly a moment's warning. Such thoughts will come and make one take umbrage at that hollow

mockery, the fortunes of war. Blake, even then, seemed a man well saved to the country, but as for me, of what account was I, that I alone should be spared of the many so much more needed? Plunged in these sad reflections, I paid little heed to what went on around me, and was quite startled to look up and see Blake waving a white flag. Following the direction of his gaze, I saw a cruiser coming up fast, while a stern of her was the rest of our fleet, the majestic with a strange cruiser in tow,

and the old thunderer with her nose underwater, towed by the resolution. We and the captured torpedo boat were soon in tow also, and in this fashion reached Dale Harbor, and were able to get some tally of the previous night's work. The majestic had captured the French cruiser Izny, and sunk another, with little or no loss to herself, but on the other hand, of our side, the Nelson was sunk, the thunderer disabled, the Iphigenia, Latona, Halcyon, and Gleaner missing.

There was only two good reason to fear that the small ship sunk by the Nelson was the Halcyon, and the arrival of the missing Iphigenia, with some of this catcher's sailors whom she had picked up, put this beyond doubt. It was a particularly unpleasant reflection, but it was a particularly unpleasant reflection, but it hard to see how it could have been avoided, since we employed searchlights to look for the enemy, instead of using them merely to keep hostile craft under observation, after having been found by the naked eye, which, I take it, is their proper use. The bend simply blazed at everything they saw caught in the searchlights beam. We found that Dale Harbor had been full of torpedo boats the night before, and one of them having penetrated up the haven as far as old Milford had torpedoed

the coal pier, presumably taking it for an ironclad in the darkness. Some colliers had also been sunk, and Blake's own boat was likewise missing. So altogether it was perhaps just as well that we put to sea when we did. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Leaperbox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 2. Early Victories Hardly had we got the captured Kourer safely up to Pembroke when there came a launch from the flagship with orders for us to take the early.

earliest train possible to Portsmouth. It turned out that officers were terribly short there, and the Admiralty, driven by force of circumstances to rob Peter to pay Paul, had wired to all the home fleets to send as many officers as could be spared to help commission ships they were bringing forward at the naval ports. Blake and I, now being both unattached, were certainly not required at Milford, save for the court-martial on the loss of the Nelson. This, a hastily improvised affair, of course, exonerated us from all blame in the matter, and added as a writer some complimentary remarks about the capture of the currer. Reaching Portsmouth I found I was appointed to the catcher rattlesnake,

while Blake, to my great joy, was gazetted as her skipper. The rattlesnake was not ready for sea when we reached her, but things were ship-shape enough for us to begin to settle down. At least Blake did. For myself, that whack on the head which I got when the Nelson was torpedoed proved one too many for me now that the excitement was over, and I had to lie up for a day or two at Haslar. This was unfortunate as I thus missed seeing the first sea fight between European ironclads,

though I heard all about it a few days later from my shipmates. Hearing of a thing and seeing it are very different, however, and then at any rate I chafed much at not half. having been able to witness the affair. It was pretty dull at Haslar. I wasn't bad enough to be regularly laid up, and in these early days I had the place to myself, save for an old two-and-a-half striper laid up with a broken leg.

Wounded by the French, he called it, but I ascertained afterwards that he had tumbled down a hatchway while buzzing round over, calling his ship. This old boy—I forget his real name, but they always called him blowhard in the service, was a pessimist of the deepest die, and forever pointing out to me what an evil omen for England was, the seeking of the Nelson.

He inquired eagerly of me as to how the men had behaved. I thought as much, he grunted when I told him of the panic, There's not a single blue jacket or a marine worth his salt nowadays. The British Navy will be bust up altogether in a fortnight, But, I argued, we had hardly any servicemen on board. You can't expect boys on their first sea trip or naval reserve sailors who don't pay much heed to even their own officers to behave like properly trained at blue jackets.

All the same, all the same, he replied, I tell you the service has gone to the devil. Nor would he listen to anything further that I would have urged. I'd heard of Blowhard before that day, however, and so could reckon his criticisms at pretty much their real value, and I don't think I was very much depressed by his evil prognostications. Another time when I was telling him how Blake had captured the French torpedo boat, he suddenly turned on me and asked whether we expected to get our promotion over that job. I said that Blake, at any rate, had earned it.

Don't you wish you may get it? He replied, Here's Blake gets his own torpedo boat bunged up. Goes off with you Nelson fellows and gets bunged up again. And then he has the luck to capture, by accident, a disabled torpedo boat. You see if the Admiralty don't tell him that they'll cry quits on the business. Which was about what they did do. Still, old Blowhard, when he hadn't got his pessimistic fits on,

was an interesting companion enough if he chose to, who condescend to talk to me. He was great on statistics of all kinds, and some of them, I am quoting below. When war broke out the distribution of naval strength between the belligerents may be roughly tabulated as follows. First-class battleships. England with 20. France 12, Russia 6 for combined 18. Second-class battleships. England, 14. France 11, Russia 5, for combined 6. 16. Third-class battleships. England 10, France 6, Russia, zero, combined six. Coast Defense battleships, England 12, France 16 and Russia 15, or total of 31. Total battleships, England 56, France, France 45, Russia 26, combined total 71.

Armored Cruisers, England, 18, France, 8, Russia 8, total 16. Protected cruisers first class, England has 11, France is 3, Russia 1 for a total of 4. Protected cruisers second and third class, England 53, France 18, Russia 3, total 21. Total cruisers, England 82, France 29, Russia 12, for a total of 41. Lookout ships, etc., England 19, France 12, Russia 1 for a total of 13. Torpedo cruisers, England 32, France 13, Russia 8, for a total of 21. Torpedo boat destroyers see going in first-class torpedo boats, England, 102, France, 185, Russia 58 for a total of 243. Second-class torpedo boats, England 104, France 44, and Russia 108 for a total of 152.

This, said old Blowhard, is mostly tabulated from Brassy. Of course, it's entirely a paper scheme. We've more ships than they have a way on foreign stations, for one thing. For another, our coast defense ships aren't in it at all. I'd tell you what it is. He went on, getting for him quite enthusiastic. I ought to have been secretary to the admiralty or something of that sort, for with the These figures, I'd prove that we outnumber the French and Russian two to one, or the other way about, according to the needs of the government. It's wonderful what a lot of juggling you can do over coast defenders, second-class battleships, ships building, and ships projected. As a matter of fact, England has about 32 available battleships to pit against some 70 the enemy can bring against her. Because they can use their old. ships and coast defense ships, while we, being the attackers, cannot depend on any save our best sea-going vessels.

I was disputing this unpleasant fact as well as I could, when Blake came in, having run over to see how I was getting on. Draw it mild, he said, having overheard's last words, I make it just the other way about. As far as ships and men are concerned, we've quite enough of the former, and the latter, though far too few, are as good as one can wish for. In the matter of battleships, we've got 28 good ships to put up against their 29. And in cruisers, we've a majority of three to one in the better ships. None of the old ships will count. England's right enough if she only holds together,

and government and parliament don't meddle with the admiralty. Yes, England will come out of it all right, though it's very doubtful if any of us will live to see peace declared, and from then till the end of the world, the landlubber critics will fill the newspapers and reviews with articles on how we ought to have done things. Blowhard listened to him in silence, but if convinced he didn't look it, or maybe with Blake's final remarks in his mind's eye,

he thought at little odds one way or the other. Well, remarked another lieutenant who had just come in for a yarn, it's a precious good thing that the war has broken out when it has. Having so many ships in commission, we've been able to strike blows at once, and without any of the fatal delay the croakers like our friend here used to prophesy. By Jove! exclaimed Blake, interrupting Blowhard's indignant refutation, I'm a pretty handed newsgiving. Here I've just run over to you fellas with the first news of the glorious victory of Sherbourg, and I clean forgot to tell it you.

What victory? What? We cried together. I thought as much this is the last place in the world to hear of anything. Well, I've taken part in an ironclad fight. That is, I've looked on from outside and felt beastly seasick. Hurry up and tell us all about the fight, and keep these scandalous confessions of a torpedo man's seaworthiness for the newspapers. said Bluhard. Blake laughed good-humoredly and proceeded to tell us

what we already knew, namely that Admiral Barham had put to sea from Portland with the eight ironclads that had formed the sea maneuver fleet, and then went on to inform us how somewhere off Sherbourg was fought in the heavy gale

the first serious battle between European ironclads. The French, it appears, had seven ironclads and a couple of cruisers, and when sighted, were apparently making for Sherbourg to effect a junction with a fleet there. It transpired after the action that they had come out from breast. Though how they managed to evade our channel fleet, which was presumably watching that port, I cannot tell. It is one of those puzzling incidents

of war that occur when least expected and upset all calculations accordingly. The rattlesnake and catchers took no part in the fight, beyond scouting round the outskirts, skirts of it on the lookout for any torpedo boats that might venture out even in such weather. And none of the cruisers seemed to have been engaged. Our eight ironclads, five of them turret ships of somewhat ancient date, met the Frenchman in the gray of the early morning, and the latter, out to get to Sherbourg and not for fighting, seemed to have had little stomach for it from the first. The affair began at long bowls at a good six thousand yards range, and for an hour or or so the ships fired at each other without doing any damage worth mentioning.

Aim being well-nigh impossible, owing to the heavy seas running. Then, finding that the enemy were nearing Sherbourg, and dreading that the arrival of more French ships might spoil his plans, the British Admiral altered course eight points and steamed close quarters in column of line abreast. The Alexandra Anne Rupert, the only two completely belted ships in the squadron, which he had selected as leaders for this very reason, forching slightly ahead before the moment of impact. There being no help for it, our ships being the swifter,

the French altered course likewise, and after a short pause in which the two fleets faced one another in silence, they went for each other at full speed. Both sides, being intent on ramming, machine and quick-firing guns were little used in the forward rush, at least not on our side. and the whole affair was over almost before the combatants realized that it had begun. At the last moment before the fleets closed,

the prestige of Trafalgar and a thousand other fights did its work, and one or two of the enemy began to waver, notably a large vessel at the port end of their line, which seemed to have been the Marceau. She let fly at Alexandra with her forward 34-centimeter gun, but that ship, being almost bow on, offered a small and uncertain target, and the projectile, passing her, struck the hero's turret, where it burst without penetrating,

though one of the 12-inch guns was damaged by it at the muzzle, and could not afterwards be fired. Before the Marceau could do anything more, the British flagship had come into her with a terrific crash that broke off the mass in both vessels and upset some of the guns in Alexandra's battery. The latter soon cleared the wreck, and with such of her big guns as would work,

immediately pounded into the Frenchman, who, gallantly replying, healed over and sank with colors flying. The hero and other ships following passed through the French, letting drive into them with all their guns that were behind armor. By the Admiral's order, no machine guns other than those in the fighting tops, and no big guns unprotected by armor were used. At the other end of our line, the Rupert, which had been specially designed for ramming,

plunged into the Fomannan and sank her, and neither the Rupert nor the Alexandra seemed to have sustained any structural injury worth mentioning from the shock. It was far otherwise with the Colosses, which, in attempting to ram de Fureur, carried away everything like matchboard as far as the foremast. where her belt began, with the result that she capsized the moment she cleared the enemy's ship. The Fureur remained afloat, but was shortly afterwards captured, being waterlogged and unable to steam away. The other attempts to ram were ineffectual.

The Barfleur, which had tried to ram the Fiorior before the Colossus and missed her, had her rudder carried away by the ram of the Tonn, although she was not otherwise hurt by it. As the Frenchmen passed under her stern, the Barfleurs after Barbette guns were fired down into her, but they could not be depressed enough to do any vital hurt. A 40-pounder shell, however, penetrated to the Tonnance interim room, and, disabling their motive power, brought about her capture, but not before she had considerably damaged the British ironclad of midships. The Galatia, which had she followed the Admiral's orders implicitly, would have been unable to fight a single gun, attempted to engage the Turin, with the result

that her unprotected battery was put out of action in five minutes. And but for the return of the Alexandra to her assistance, she must have been captured or destroyed. The French ships which it got through had now nothing between them and Sherbourg, but instead of running for it, They turned round and gallantly continued the fight. Once, or possibly twice, the fleets charged again, but the field of action was now much wider, and ironclads passed each other in vain attempts to ram. The sea, rising every minute,

made aim more and more difficult, only chance shots told, but of these a large proportion hit the ships under the waterline as they rolled. Every vessel sustained serious damage in this, way, and soon the ironclads, busily pumping out the tons of water that flooded many compartments, left each other alone. Neither side was completely vanquished, but neither was capable of inflicting much more damage on the other. The scouts now signaled French ships coming up on the horizon, so the Admiral deemed it wiser to withdraw with his battered ships and prizes, instead of pursuing

the enemy so near to large reinforcements. With the Gallatia, Fureur, and Tonin in tow, he proceeded back to Portland, the first sea fight of the war having resulted in a great British victory. Of the French ships, only three escaped, while the British lost but one battleship, though both the Galatia and Barfleur were too damaged to be of much service for some time to come. This last-named ship had suffered severely amid ships where a couple of big shells from the Tonnard had worked indisive,

describable havoc, setting her on fire and destroying all the upper works. Had the men been at the guns instead of undercover, the loss of life would have been terrible. As it was, the number of men or de combat in the British squadron was far less than might have been expected. Insignificant, indeed, compared to what had been so frequently predicted. The Alexandra, though she had borne the brunt of the action, had lost but eleven men killed and wounded. while the Rupert's casualties were even less. The Galatia, on the other hand, had 50 men killed outright and almost 100 wounded.

In the captured French ships this loss was even exceeded, as they had tried to fight their machine guns, and the crews, being thus exposed, had been destroyed wholesale by splinters and bits of shell. In very few cases was the armor of any ship penetrated. Well, said Bloward, after we had listened to Blake's account, told in far more graphic language than I can put it in, Well, that just goes to prove what I said, or meant to have said a few minutes ago.

The Barfleur and Gallaglia, our most modern ships, get bunged up. The only modern French ironclad, the Marceau, gets sunk. What price our modern navy? Tisn't a case likely to occur again, Blake replied, and it's more coincidence than any else. If the fight proves anything, it shows the value of armor, the value of superior numbers, and possibly the value of complete belts. Sandwiched into a fleet of Noah's arcs, the modern battleship has no chance to use her special qualifications,

and we can't judge her by this fight. However, whatever the ironclads may do to each other, you'll find that the torpedo boat will be the ultimate factor. After a good deal more of this discussion, Blake took his leave, and Blowhard and I settled down to read the papers which had just arrived, laughing much at their highfalutin descriptions of a modern Trafalgar, as some of them were ill-advised enough to call the Sherbourg affair. There was much joy in England that night, and the news of the great victory of Sherbourg was rung far and wide throughout the empire. It was felt on all hands that Britannia still ruled the waves. The nation was delighted, testifying to its joy by shouting the choruses of patriotic songs in the music halls, 94 civilians volunteered for service with the fleets, and some 70 battleships and cruisers were laid down in public and private yards,

though, of course, the war was over long before any of them could be used. I give here a list of the combatants from an old newspaper that I have by me. As far as I can recollect, it's tolerably accurate. On the British side, the Alexandra launched in 1876, 9,490 tons displacement, 12-inch armor, its heaviest gun is 22 tons, 18 guns, had 11 casualties. The Agamemnon launched in 1882, 8,660 tons, 18-inch armor, has the 38-ton muzzle-loader as its largest gun, six guns, nine casualties. The Rupert launched in 1873, 5,440 tons, 14-inch armor, 22-ton guns, four-guns, 2-2-ton guns, four guns,

guns, eight casualties. The Barfleur launched in 1892, 10,500 tons, 12-inch armor, 29-ton gun, 14 guns, had 31 casualties, was disabled and set on fire. The Colossus launched in 1885, 9,420 tons, 18-inch armor, 45-ton gun, nine guns, 190 men drowned when she was sunk. The Edinburgh launched in 1885, 9,420 tons, 18-inch armor, 45-ton guns, nine guns, two casualties. The hero launched in 1880s. 66, 6200 tons, 12-inch armor, 45-ton guns, six guns, four casualties.

The Gallagia launched 1888, 5,600 tons, 12-inch armor, 22-ton gun, 12-ton gun, 12-guns, 12-guns, 12 guns, had 147 casualties and was disabled totally. On the French side, the Fioriori, launched in 188. 53, 5,700 tons, 20-inch armor, 48-ton guns, 2 guns with 1883 casualties and was captured. The Marceau launched in 1887, 10,581 tons, 18-inch armor, 52-ton guns, 21 guns, 21 guns, indeterminate number of casualties, she was sunk. The Tonal launched in 1880, 4,707 tons, 18-inch armor, 48-ton guns, two guns, casualties 149, and she was captured. The Turin launched 1879, 6,400 tons, 10-inch armor, 1610-ton guns, 16-toned guns, 12 guns, guns, unknown number of casualties, disabled. The Tonner, launched 1875, 5,700 tons, 13-inch armor,

28-ton guns, two guns, unknown casualties. The Recuin launched 1885, 7,200 tons, 19-5-inch armor, 75-ton guns, two guns, unknown casualties. The Fomino launched 1877, 5,651 tons, 13-inch armor, 23-ton guns, six guns, unknown casualties, and she was sunk. The English ships had a superiority of quick-firing guns, but as before stated, these were little if at all used. Neither side seems to have fired torpedoes. The risk of hitting friends was considered too great.

After this fight, reorganized somewhat, augmented and altered, the Portland fleet Watch Sherbourg, where the French battleships remained in safety and refused to come out. While at the Noor, a fleet was got together for the Baltic, consisting at first of the battleships Royal Oak, Renown, Repulse, Edinburgh, Temreire, and hero, 10 cruisers and some torpedo boats. By and by it was joined by the old ironclads, Northampton, and at the time war broke out. This ship was in commission as a sea-going training ship. All her crew were drafted to other vessels within a week, and when recommissioned later, she was filled with recruits. My brother had the bad luck to be appointed to that ship for her new commission.

Also, monarch, iron duke, swissure, and triumph. But some little time elapsed before these were got to sea, for both men and material were sadly deficient. I don't know where they got the crews from at all. Numbers of their people were fishermen or landsmen out of work, who made but indifferent sailors, for though they learned the work more quickly than was expected of them, they lacked the cohesion and mutual self-confidence, which only long service. together in fair weather and foul can bring about in a ship's company. We recognize this now, and even our RNR men have their own special ship and ship's company,

but it was very different in those days. However, the fleet in the Baltic fought no action just then, for the Russians kept quiet in Kronstadt. The menace of our torpedo boats is said to have kept them inactive, since the Russians at that time looked upon these little craft with considerable dread. This information I write from recollection of articles in the Times. Personally, I think this was all bunkum, and am inclined to think that our British prestige had a lot more to do with it than anything else. Another point in our favor was the bad weather just at that time.

We British were supposed to do things in all weathers, and I well remember some few years before, our catchers maneuvering in the teeth of a gale, when those of any other nation would have run for harbor, and it was the life on board these small ships that kept the old spirit of the British sailor alive. Hence, when our cruisers met the enemy in dirty weather, they went for them without delay,

while these were thinking more about getting comfortably into harbor than fighting battles, and so hostile vessels almost invariably got captured or destroyed. You see, it was a point of honor in the service to either win or go to the bottom, and the way in which one of our second-class cruisers would attack a first-class one of the enemies made them shy of us. It wasn't that they were less brave than our fellows. It was simply that they never knew what to expect, or when they were safe from attack. Of course, we occasionally lost ships in this way, but they had generally rendered a pretty good account of themselves,

first, so that victories against us were apt to be Pyrrhic ones. The way Jowke got his promotion was a case in point. He was an old stager, with thirteen years' service or more, and had long given up hopes of getting his three stripes. They made him lieutenant commander of the Icarus, a useless old tub enough, with only twelve knots brassy speed and an actual speed of about eight or so at that period. pottering about outside Portsmouth a day or two after the war broke out, he fell in with a French cruiser of 2400 tons,

more than doubled the size of his ship. The enemy signaled him to surrender, but instead of that he hoisted every ensign he had on board and went into action. They blew his ship nearly inside out, and then tried to ram him, which he let them do. Then all his ship's company, Stokers and everybody, rushed on board, the Destang, and after a hard fight captured her deck. Shutting down the fellows below, he steamed back to Portsmouth,

with all but nine of his own crew killed or badly wounded, and his own Icarus at the bottom of the channel. This, happening so early in the war, made a great impression on the enemy, and Jowke got his extra stripe almost immediately, wherein he was luckier than many men, who got theirs when all was over, and there were no ships left to command. Everyone was anxious to emulate Jowke,

and this incident did as much good as a great victory. Another episode of these early days was the case of Captain... I suppress his name, as he's still living, of the... Not going to name the ship. He fell in with the Dupuy de Lom, a heavily armored cruiser, and getting the very first shot into his...

engines was completely disabled. He struck his flag, but before the capture could be properly affected, the Blenham and two other of our cruisers came up unexpectedly. So the Frenchman made off, leaving some of his own men in his vessel in his haste. Captain What's-His-Name had struck to overwhelming odds and got off all right at the court-martial, but everyone in the service cut him for having surrendered. This first week of the war also saw the destruction of the much vaunted Russian Mediterranean fleet. Our vice-admiral there had had his eye on them from the first, and fell on them with his whole fleet somewhere off the coast of Sicily, directly war was declared.

The Pamyat Azova escaped to Toulon, but the Dmitri Donskoi, Alexander II, and Admiral Nachimov were transferred to the British flag, and man with drafts from the other English vessels and soldiers from the Malta garrison. The Russians had five ironclads, excluding the two useless Popofkas in the Black Sea. These remained shut up there, and unavailable for the time being. At sea we seemed likely to have things all our own way. The enemy's cruises were fast disappearing, and the merchant traffic suffered but little injury after the first ten days.

We had blocked the Suez Canal and the Asiatic and Australian trade to the value of over 200 million pounds per annum was diverted around the Cape of Good Hope. Things on shore were not going so well. A sort of chaos was falling on the abrality, hampered as it was by parliamentary interference

and by the economy necessary in view of the possible advent of a general election. The dearth of capable seamen and stokers was severely felt, and bitter were the longings for something like the inscription meritine of the French. It was even mooted in Parliament, to be rejected, however, as incompatible with the institutions of a free country. Press gangs were also proposed, but the measure was, of course, negatived. Nevertheless, some captains did a little press-ganging on their own account, but the measure. The measure was, of course, negatived. Nevertheless, some captains did a little press-ganging on their own account, but that was later. Here we have a body of men presided over by highly paid officials, said an MP who had gained notoriety for these sort of remarks. A body of men who for years have eaten their heads off in idleness. Let them do their work. There are quite enough of them without our having to pay any more.

"'Outrageous as this view was, it only put into words the thoughts of a large section of the community "'into whose souls the poison of the mercantile spirit had sunk deep. "'Wore is a crime and but murder by wholesale. "'It is our duty to try and stop it by every means in our power. "'And peace means cheap bread again,' said yet another section, "'whose raison d'etre probably lay in the last few words. A still more serious thing was the attitude of the Labor Party, which had considerable weight with the government.

"'War is but the game of kings,' said their leaders. "'You and yours have no part in it.' In order to carry on the government, all these parties had to be conciliated, and all the evils of party government came to the fore. And so, though the outside of the nut was firm and strong, the colonel was rotten and eaten out by the worm of democracy, half-educated and totally unable to appreciate the great issues at stake.

These were the opinions of Lieutenant Blake, our skipper, not my own. I concern myself little with things outside my profession. But Blake, representing as he did, the Fanda Cieckler, British naval officer, was, before all things, a scientific and highly educated man. He and his cronies were not slow to air

their opinion in the fleet, that the only thing that could save the country was the vesting of the supreme control in the service instead of in the civilian element. And press correspondents who heard these views, ventilated them in the papers they represented. Whether from conviction or merely for the sake of matter, I cannot say, it depended a good deal on what their papers wanted, I suppose. It did little good anyway, though it afforded subject matter for the content bills of the half-penny evening papers. Insult to the democracy, overbearing conduct of naval officers, Jack Tar wants to rule the roost, and such-like headlines. However, in these early days, everything seemed right enough on the sea, but Blake and his brother officers saw deeper below the surface,

and were far from optimistic even then, and the sequel proved them to be true profits. Perhaps, however, the maddest of all the mad things that happened at that time was the dispute about the Mediterranean. A dispute started by an MP and carried on by other civilians as to whether or no it would be advisable to abandon our position there at once. This argument made a great noise. All the newspapers and then the House of Commons discussed it. Eventually a motion was carried that the Mediterranean should be abandoned. forthwith. An utter disregard of the fact that the presence of our fleet there occupied the attention of fully two-thirds of the French vessels.

Fortunately, the Admiralty refused to be dictated to, notwithstanding the shrieking denunciations of the abandoners, as the party opposed to our maintaining a Mediterranean fleet, were called, but the incident showed how great were the dangers looming ahead. Most of us in the service agreed with Old Glatton, the Port Admiral at Portsmouth, who said that he thought it would be a good thing for the country to invite the leading spirits in the discussion for a sea trip and drop them overboard in mid-channel. Well, it would have put an end to most of the gas that hampered the Navy anyway.

While all this was going on, plenty of exciting smaller incidents were taking place, and to describe these, I must take the reader back to almost the beginning of the war. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is the Liebervox recording. All Lebervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Leibervox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina.

Blake of the Rattlesnake, by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 3, The Rescue of a Sweetheart. I joined the Rattlesnake on August 19th, just after the Battle of Sherbourg. The Rado, as we called her in the service, was a torpedo catcher of 550 tons displacement, carrying one four-inch quick-firing gun and six three-pounder quick-fireers. The four-inch was only put in position when they hastily fitted the ship for sea. She had previously carried an ordinary four-inch breech-loading gun. Her horsepower was 2,700, which gave a nominal speed of not more than 19 knots, but she could make about that in all weather's, and so was practically one of the best ships in the service for speed, while her engines had never broken down

in any way. The vessels of the Havoc class were indeed far swifter, but they were not so sea-going as the good old Rado. Lieutenant Blake was a man full of pet-eyed, about everything, and when I joined some of these have been put into execution. Around the guns he had piled sandbags. Chains had been slung over the sides amid ships, while over guns and everything hung a light awning, the object of which I was at a loss to conceive, till the captain explained that, in his opinion, men would fight with more assurance under cover, and that even this slight awning gave a feeling of protection that would be valuable in action. Our compliment, all told, was 70.

We acted as a sort of division boat to three torpedo boats, numbers 82, 84, and 86, respectively. If these went out to seek the enemy, we were to accompany them, and either lead the attack, or lie a bit astern as a protection and rallying point, as the case might need. Should we be employed in protecting a fleet,

two boats were to keep with us while the third cold. This arrangement was a compromise to those who held that the torpedo boat was the proper answer to the torpedo boat, and looking back at it all after the lapse of years, I think it was about the best thing. The new catchers of the havoc type came in very handy for this sort of work, but there were not enough of them ready for sea when war broke out to do all the work required. Practically one was needed for every ironclad. Now it is all over. It does seem a thousand pities that they didn't send a big fleet of catchers and torpedo boats into Sherbourg. Going on mass, we'd have got in somehow, and done for the lot of them, though likely enough nobody would have come out of it.

Still, we were ready and willing to try it, had they only given us the chance. Instead of that, most of us nursed the battleships and did nothing. It must not be supposed that we had an easy time of it, however. Scouting for torpedo boats was arduous work, and nonetheless so because nothing, at first, came in our way. The night the Empress of India was torpedoed, for instance, we were entirely out of it, and did not see a single hostile boat, though several were about. We had all the monotony of looking for boats without the excitement of chasing them. That first week or so of the war was an anxious time for those who had relatives and friends at sea, for the enemy's cruisers were then playing old hairy with the merchant service,

and numberless ships and liners were overdue. One of the newspapers had a terribly pathetic article about the people waiting, waiting at the piers and places where the steamers used to come in in peacetime, and of how they went on watching day after day, night after. night for the ships that never came, and never would come now. Save for an occasional war ship going in or out of harbor, the waters were as deserted as the ocean and the ancient mariner. No man felt more keenly about these missing merchantmen than our skipper, since the girl he was engaged to was home were bound in the Valletta, which had left Jibb just before the declaration of war.

The Valletta was a fastish boat, subsidized by the Abralty, and her captain reckoned on getting into port before war broke out. Though likely enough he didn't expect it to happen at all, no one did, for the matter of that. She was more than a week overdue now, and the chances of her safe arrival were getting infinitesimal. It must have come as a relief to the skipper when we were sent to sea to cruise independently, instead of the everlasting patrolling around the fleet. Our orders were to scout down-channel, capture any inferior craft we might encounter, but carefully avoid an engagement with the superior force.

This we could easily do, as, if necessary, we were able to show a clean pair of heels to most things afloat, certainly to any ship likely to be able to damage us. Show heels be damned, said Blake, as he read the slate. The French have a darn sight too many cruisers, and if we meet one,

I'll try and find out whether the Rado can't give her Bino. And in this spirit we wade and put to sea. It was a trying moment all the same. The possibilities of the future seemed so much nearer and greater in a small ship. In a big ironclad, one has so many messmates and creature comforts that one leaves the future to look after itself,

but in a frail little craft like the rato. Well, I couldn't contemplate going into action without wondering whether anyone could possibly survive, and I experienced all sorts of sensations that had been foreign to me in the poor old Nelson. Feeling a bit blue, eh, old man? remarked Blake, who was inspecting the conning tower as I came off the forecastle, where I had lingered a bit after getting up anchor. Well, sir, I made room. reply. One does feel a bit sick at the thought of never seeing home and dear ones again.

Of course, a fellow is prepared to do his duty and all that, but as you yourself said in the Nelson, there's precious small chance of anyone coming out of it. For to tell the truth, I was in a devil of a funk. Well, that's merely one way of looking at it. For my own part, I'm also one of those fatalistic johnnies who hold that a man can't die before his time, do what he will. Though, he added in a sadder tone, maybe there are times when one wishes it would come along. Then, as his manner was, he left me abruptly, going up on the bridge, while I went below and fell in with a doctor who was fresh from Haslar, and a mighty

enthusiast. He had the wardrobe table covered with murderous-looking knives and instruments, the different uses of which he was explaining to our engineer. "'I'll tell you what, my son,' he was saying. "'You'll bless me by and by, all of you. "'I've brought a private stock of chloroform, "'for the Admiralty only allow about enough for one operation.' "'Poor little blue-eyed doctor with his saws and anesthetics. "'He never got a chance to use them.

"'We thought him rather an officious little ass, then, "'yet he proved himself a hero when he died. "'We steered in a beeline for Plymouth, altering course near the Eddy Stone about five hours later. A white fog had been coming on, and near to sunset time it was so thick that we had to reduce speed to six knots or thereabouts. As we were thus going along, we heard the sound of distant firing, and, cracking on full speed, the rattle made in the direction whence it seemed to proceed. The noise rapidly increased in volume, but we were unable to locate it.

When suddenly the fog lifted, and there, right ahead of us, Crimson and the setting sun, were a couple of ships firing at each other. It was the first sea-fight I had ever seen, and the impression of it is as vivid in my memory as though it were yesterday. Two black ships, one of them, apparently are warspit, near together, slowly following each other round and round in a circle. From those sides and tops came incessant flashes, a thin film of smoke from the cordite ammunition reethed and twisted a stern of them, while under the Worspitz quarter lay a second-class torpedo boat following her motions,

and presumably waiting for an opportunity to slip out and torpedo the enemy's vessel. Long before we could reach them, the fog curtain came down again thicker than ever, so that they were lost to our ken, and night. having fallen, we were unable to find them, although the sound of firing continued for another half hour, when it suddenly ceased. By and by the fog lifted once again, but we saw nothing more of the ships, though we passed the early part of the night cruising as near as we could guess in the same place. Then, giving it up as a bad job, we went on our way. Once we cited a cruiser, which she turned out to be a friend. This was just as I can.

came on the bridge to take the morning watch for the skipper, who, having been on the bridge since six o'clock on the previous night, turned in all standing for a short rest. We saw nothing more till about three bells, then our lookout notified a large merchantman steaming hard on the port bow, and I altered course in her direction. Before we had neared her appreciably, and ere she had noticed us, I fancy, a warship loomed up in pursuit, and even if she had been a war-ship loomed up in pursuit, and even as we looked there came a fire-tongue from her bow, followed by a splash in the water ahead of the first steamer, which replied with a gun mounted somewhere aft,

and at the same time ran up the British blue ensign. A second shell from the pursuer burst in the merchantmen of midships, and must have damaged her, for though she still steamed on, her speed was much reduced. At the first alarm I had, of course, had the skipper called, and the crew were all at quarters in less than no time. The excitement was intense. Blake, who had been intently watching the steamer through his binoculars,

laid them down with a hoarse cry. Good God, it is the Valletta! Lucy! Lucy! How do we meet again! The enemy, the French Davout, was now rapidly coming up, firing ever and again at the Valletta, which replied irregularly and without any effect so far as we could make out. The Davout, a protected cruiser of over 3,000 tons, carried 14 guns of sorts to R7. She had six 16-centimeter guns against our solitary long-tom, so that it appeared little less than suicidal for us to attack her,

but the traditions of the British Navy demanded that we should do so. Probably this reason counted second with our skipper. Fate had placed it in his power to strike a blow for the woman he loved, and confident in his preconceived plans, he went into action with a light heart. Hitherto the DeVu had taken absolutely no notice of us. In our disguise, she probably took us for a collier tramp, who could be picked up afterwards at leisure. But a shot from our long tom, as she came into range, undeceived her. Before she had recovered her surprise, we were pretty well out of reach, and the broadside she sent in our direction did no damage.

"'It won't be possible to play that game again,' said Blake. "'I guess that shell of ours made things hum.' The captain of the DeVu seemed undecided whether to continue the pursuit of the Valletta or to turn aside first and destroyed the puny antagonist astern of him. He must have lent towards the latter course, for he slowed down, thus enabling the merchantman to get out of range, but not before another French shell had hit her, and we clenched our teeth in anger.

as we thought of the terrible havoc that missile must have wrought on the decks, crowded with defenseless passengers. By God, you shall pay for this, muttered Blake, as he himself trained our four-inch gun upon the cruiser. Fire! The shell struck the enemy, which, in stopping to turn, had just come into range again, and burst somewhere forward, but we could not see what damage we had done. She still continued to turn as before, letting fly, a broadside of three guns at us as she did so.

Bow on as we were, the target we offered was exceedingly small, and none of the projectiles hit us, though we felt the wind of one that passed overhead. "'Every man undercover!' yelled the skipper, and going into the conning tower he put the helm hard a port, using the screws to assist him to turn. But before the rattlesnake had quite got round, a shell from the enemy hit us somewhere astern, bursting against the base of the main mass,

which it brought down, and wrecking the steward's pantry and engineer's cabin. A minute or two later we were out of dangerous range, and I was sent below to report damage. On the floor of the wardroom, amidst the wreckage, lay the doctor, wounded under death, and near him the sick-bay man, moaning in agony, his right legs shattered to a bloody pulp. As I crawled over the debris, the doctor opened his eyes, and, struggling on his knees towards some bandages and instruments, asked me in a voice little more than a faint whisper to bring the wounded man to him. Poor chap!

It was his last effort. Even as he made it, he fell back with a rattle in his throat, and died. Calling a couple of hands I made the wounded sick-bay man as comfortable as we could, under the circumstances, which I'm afraid was not much. But since we all expected to join the doctor in a few minutes, it didn't seem to matter much, for none of us had much faith in the captain's plan. Discovering that he could not get within range of us, although nominally and not faster in speed, the DeVu again slowed down, presumably hoping to entice us within reach. Again we turned, facing the enemy bow to bow. All this time our ship had been getting more and more round to the eastward,

and just before turning, I noticed the sky ahead of us a glorious glow of color, the golden edge of the sun lifting above the inky black water as we circled round. Finding that we were not to be drawn nearer, the enemy commenced to go about again, evidently intent on pursuing the Valletta, which was still well in sight. Stand by the starboard torpedo tube yourself, Bovary, sang out the skipper to me, and fire when I give the word. You will hear me yell to you from the conning tower, but of course if anything unforeseen happens, you must use your own judgment. I am going down to torpedo her in the path of the sun. Everyone else undercover, and lie down, every man jack of you.

Go ahead as fast as you can. I heard him yell down the tube to the end of the end. engine room a minute later. We had a tremendous head of steam, and our speed must have been quite twenty miles an hour, reckoning the enemy to be about eight thousand yards off. It would take us some fifteen minutes or less to get within torpedo distance of her, and then—' The sun, dead astern of us, was now just above the horizon, and his golden rays tipped the foam and mist that clung about our shrouds till they seemed bespangled with glittering jewels. The rigging hummed with the wind of our rush. The engines throbbed and palpitated till I could scarce hold on to the torpedo tube.

But I thought of none of these things. Instead thereof I seemed to see another morning a fortnight or so ago, with the same sun just rising and catching on a girl's white dress as she stood on the landing stage at Milford, waving a handkerchief to a steam launch, dashing away down harbor to the Nelson. All else passed from me, and as in a dream I heard the pattering of machine-gum bullets and the wild screech and splash of the shell. Then a cry from somewhere,

Look out, Starboard torpedo tube! Brought me to myself again. We gave a great swerve to port. Ahead of me over the low bulwarks, I saw a huge hull, wreathed in smoke and flashes, shining and glimmering in the sunshine, like a great gold mirror set up in the sea. A moment later, I had her in the sights of the director. The torpedo flashed out. The noise of the firing ended itself in a mighty roar

and a wave that broke over our bulwarks and set everything awash. Then came a sudden, unnatural calm. I struggled to my feet to look astern, being almost knocked over, as I did so, by the rush of blue jackets to man the QF guns. But there was no need to use them, for the DeVu would fire her guns, Never more. The cruiser had her nose under water, and with propellers wildly splashing in the air,

slowly went over on her side. We had described a sort of semicircle, meanwhile. She was now only a cable or so distant from us. Some of the crew we could see frantically trying to get out boats. A white flag was being waved to us, and hands stretched out appealingly. Nearer yet we drew, till we could look upon their faces. Hardy Breton seamen jumping into the sea. Slowly the great ship went down, her struggling burden, crowding her hall, beseeching for aid that came not. "'For God's sake, sir, send them a boat!' cried I to Blake, who was now standing on the bridge watching the sinking vessel.

"'What can we do? We cannot risk having all those prisoners aboard us. We can leave them such of our boats as we'll swim, after the ship has gone down. Till then, we can do nothing. And indeed, it was only too true. We could not crowd our decks with prisoners who would be twenty to one against our little deck-watch, nor could we even approach nearer without grave risk of being sucked down by the foundering Davout. Presently, with a great explosion in one awful cry of agony, she went down, and then we steamed over the spot.

We lowered the only two boats that would swim. These we had just turned outwards with considerable difficulty into the struggling mass of men and deck hamper. Numbers clutched at our rungs and the bits of chain and rope that hung from the ship's sides, praying us for the love of God to save them, and some few of these we hauled on board, but the greater number we had to leave to their fate.

Then and not till then did we notice, the Valletta, which, under slight sail, had drifted down to us before the wind. Her engines were apparently disabled, and, judging from the streams of water that spurted from her sides, she was leaking badly as well. We got up with a hail of her, and these must have been anxious moments for our skipper, as he eagerly scanned the faces of the passengers who crowded her decks, gazing on the horrible sequel to their deliverance. Can you keep afloat? hailed our skipper. I think so, but our engines are disabled.

Can you take us in tow, sir? Very good. Is Miss Moncton safe? Who? Miss Moncton, passenger, General Moncton's daughter. The answer was indistinct, and as we steamed up yet nearer, Blake ordered out the dinghy, which had luckily escaped destruction when the main mass fell. He was over the side waiting for it almost before it touched the water, calling to me to come with him.

Steer the boat, Bovery, he said. My nerves are all ajar. Look here. You arrange with these fellows about towing and so forth, while I go and see what has happened. Miss Moncton is, or perhaps was, to be my wife. I made no answer, thinking it better so, and in silence we went on board. A gray-bearded captain came forward to meet us as we came up the Valletta's side. The other officers were drawn up in a group to honor us, but Blake scarcely saw any of this. He rushed, rather than walked, through the crowd of passengers, towards an old gentleman of military appearance, who was trying to force his way in our direction. I could not hear what was said, being too far away, but from their motions I could guess that it was no good news, and presently, with bowed head by Skipper, followed the old general below.

The towing arrangements were soon seen to, but before they were finished, Blake came on deck again with a white-set face, and silently taking his place in the dinghy, we returned to the rattlesnake without any reference to what had occurred on board the Valletta. Shortly afterwards, a hauser having been got out, we slowly made our way to Plymouth with a huge liner in our wake, reaching that port without further adventure, save falling in with a couple of our own cruisers. These went on to look for the unfortunate crew of the Davout, some 40 or more of whom were found crowded into our two boats, or clinging to bits of deck-hamper, where they had been about 12 hours when rescued. At Plymouth we parted company with the Valletta, which we left

inside the breakwater. We ourselves were told to proceed at once to Portland. where a sort of floating dockyard had been set up for small repairs, the yards at Devonport and Keam being already full to overflowing with ships fitting for sea or repairing after actions in which they had been engaged. As soon as we had anchored inside Portland breakwater, nature asserted herself, and we all fell asleep, leaving our ship in charge of a party from the Blenham, who saw to our wounded,

and the next morning we got alongside one of the dockyard steamers whence a strong batch of carpenters and artificers came on board to put things to rights. All things considered, we had suffered very slightly. Besides the doctor, we had only lost seven men killed, and thirteen were wounded, most of these, but slightly. The tempest of fire under which we had charged had mostly passed over and around us, coming bow on, with the blazing sun behind us, we had made a very small and difficult target.

If indeed the gunners were able to see us in the glare, machine-gun bullets had riddled our boats and top-hamper, but beyond the shell which killed the doctor, no big shot had hit us, and the holes where the machine-gun fire had penetrated our sides at the moment when we swerved to discharge the torpedo were not so very numerous. Blake's chain defense had done its work well. We heard later, from the prisoners brought in by the cruisers, that the Davos people fancied we were trying to either ram them or get rammed after the fashion set by Jowke,

and they had prepared a warm reception for us had we done so. It seemed that they also eased off a torpedo at us, but it either went under our bottom or missed altogether. As for the Valletta, her history was a series of hair-breadth escapes from the day she left Gibraltar. Chaseed by a French cruiser in the Bay of Biscay, she had made for the Atlantic and given her pursuer the slip. Then, headed off by another, had been driven southward toward the Azores, where a lucky shot from one of the six-inch guns she carried on her poop had disabled this antagonist. Coling at San Miguel, she struck homewards again, keeping well out in the Atlantic, for French

cruisers swarmed like bees off the Spanish coast, and she had got along all right till our eventful meeting with her off the Sillies. The DeVue had come up in the night from an opposite direction. Still the Valletta was hoping to out-steam her, but the Frenchmen were within range and firing at her engines. The rest has been already told, save that Some five of her crew and twelve passengers were killed, and nearly thirty wounded by the enemy's shells. Miss Moncton's name appeared in the list of the slightly wounded, able to proceed to their homes, so we were at a loss to account for the state of mind the skipper was in. Whatever it was, he was a changed man, and though thoughtful of his crew as ever,

he now did his duty mechanically and wearily, his old enthusiasm, for the time at any rate was lost. I suppose she's jilted him, poor beggar, remarked Lawson, my fellow sub, as we went ashore that afternoon to see about some fresh provisions, and I was inclined to agree with him. On the morrow we buried the doctor on shore, the service being read by a white-headed old clergyman whose voice every now and then broke down in sobs, and by his side was a lady equally aged, who clutched his arm as he read the side. solemn words. They were his father and mother, and it was thus that they buried their only son.

End of chapter. Forty Chapter 4 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is the Liebervox recording. All Lieberwax recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 4. The Press Gang. The dockyard people were working night and day at our ship, repairing the damage caused by the late action.

But, slight as this comparatively speaking was, ten days' time was the earliest possible date by which they could promise her in. We were not allowed to be altogether idle in the interim, but were employed on a job that, however, it may have been, was distasteful to the last degree. Ships were continually putting into Portland to try and get a few men from the depot which had been established on board the Bascawan, but the reserve had been exhausted some days before our arrival, and it was absolutely necessary to replenish the supply. No volunteers being forthcoming, the Admiral in command of the depot ordered a press gang on his own responsibility, knowing well that the the Admiralty on its desperate strait would stand by him if he relieved their difficulty.

On the rights and wrongs of the question, I need scarcely speak. Certain newspapers have not dropped the subject even yet. But behind the scenes, we recognize that, if men would not volunteer to serve their country, they must be compelled to do so. All the same, none of us quite liked having to carry it out ourselves, and when it was done, would have given worlds to have had no share. in it. It was yet early in the morning that the semaphore came detailing us for the duty, and, glad of any excitement that would kill the memory of the recent fight, which had made me feel

pretty queer when it was all over, I at first hailed the news with joy. As for the Blue Jackets, they were uproariously delighted at it. Sailors hated the civil population pretty strongly just at that time. Blake was the only laggard when the news came, and he tried hard to get off, but it was no good. He had to go. From what transpired that night, I can well understand how he must have loathed visiting the district selected. The expedition, under the leadership of one Commander Kiersen, consisted also of Lieutenant Blake, myself, and some three-score blue jackets and Marines, mostly from our ship. The men all had their cutlasses, and we carried revolvers as well as our swords.

Special train took us on our gruesome journey, landing us about a mile from the villages we intended to attack, and outside the station we separated, Kiersen with one detachment moving off at once, while we hung about for a while, waiting till it should get dusk. The church clock was tracking nine as we strolled in small parties down the village street, halting at the end where we expected to make our principal hall. To our astonishment, we found it deserted, save for a deaf old woman from whom we learned, after much questioning, that the best part of the population was gathered in the parish room, where a concert was being held to raise money for the widows of sailors killed in action. If our task had been unpleasant before,

this information made it trebly so, but it had to be gone through nevertheless, and nothing was to be gained by delay. Five minutes later we were all gathered outside. the room. There were two doors to the place. One at the end, the other a small entrance leading to an ante-room as well. Blake and fifteen men made for the larger door while I took the rest towards the other. When the song. We could just catch the sound of a woman singing, When the song is over and they begin to applaud, rush in, whispered Blake to me, as we made for our respective posts. The little door was ajar, and, Through it I could hear one of the sweetest voices that had ever been my lot to listen to,

as it died away in that beautiful refrain. Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. Then came a storm of applause, and in the midst of it we burst through right on to the platform. Our sudden entrance caused a hush to fall on the audience, who rose to their feet and stared blankly, first at us and then at Blake's men, who had filed in at the other end of the room. It was Blake's voice that first broke the stillness. I want twenty-four volunteers for Her Majesty's fleet, and if these are not willing, it will be my duty to take two dozen of you, whether they will or no.

His speech was received in silence, and he repeated it without effect, though a youth or two near him seemed inclined to come forward, and then to think better of it. Very well, cried Blake, anxious to get the... the business over as soon as possible, and he motioned to his followers to seize the most suitable-looking men. Then, indeed, arose an awful uproar. I could not see what was going on down Blake's end, as we were fully occupied in striving to capture and handcuff those near us, and at the same time ward off the blows that fell thick upon us from the captive's fellow villagers. A clergyman got up on the platform and tried to say something, but his words were lost, in the din of women shrieking and men cursing.

Then suddenly, above this tumult, I heard a woman's voice calling to Blake by his Christian name. Standing on the platform, facing my captain with flashing eyes, was the lady who had been singing when we so abruptly entered. She seemed about to say something more, but an old gentleman, whom I recognized it once as General Moncton, intervened and led her to the ante-room. and thither Blake soon made his way.

I did not intentionally play the eavesdropper, but I couldn't help hearing what was said inside, for I was posted close to the door, looking after our prisoners, who, surrounded by weeping women, were crowded into a corner hard by. The rest of the people had cleared out altogether, and comparative silence in some sort of order was restored.

Lucy, Blake was saying, fate seems to have ordained that I shall always appear to you as a brute or a murderer. Believe me that in neither case could I have acted otherwise. Why do you shun me and blame me? Because my duty has compelled me to do what you have unfortunately been a witness of. She made no answer, or none that I could hear, and he went on appealingly to her. When we sank that cruiser which chased you in the Valletta, it was really an absolutely impossible for us to pick up her crew without endangering not our liberty only,

but your lives and liberty as well. And as for what you have seen tonight, it had to be done, and I had to do it, though God knows I find it hateful enough. The old general seemed to have said something then, but I could not catch his words, and then at length Miss Moncton spoke. Edward, I loved you with all my heart, and I looked upon you as a prince among men. More, I love you still, though God knows I had rather not, for though I should live forever, and though to live without you were endless torture yet, ah, go away, go away, I can never, never forget. That cry of the men you left to drown, the cries of the women here whose sons and

sweethearts you have taken from them, the little children who will never see their fathers again. Go! And may God forgive you, Edward, for the misery that you bring! I heard no more, much to my relief, for, all being ready, we now marched the prisoners away. Blake hurriedly adjoined us, and we started our tramp back to the station. But ere we had got well away from the village, a great crowd of rustics, armed with pitchforks, Siths and other tools came up, calling on us to give up our prisoners. There was a sharp scuffle, but the countrymen were no match for our sturdy sailors, who, their blood once roused, cut and slashed without mercy.

A couple of burly fellows attacked me, one with a scythe cutting at my legs, while his companion thrust at me with a fork. And though I made some sort of defense with my sword, I was being pressed backwards and separated from our party, when a couple of flashes, followed by two sharp reports, came from behind me, and my assailants, throwing up their arms, stumbled into the roadway in a confused heap. Blake, who had fired the shots, seized my arm, drawing me after him, and we soon rejoined our fellows, who, having just charged the mob, were now left in peace.

Two blue jackets had received nasty cuts, and most of us had some bruises, but on the whole we got off lightly. One prisoner had escaped or been pulled away by his friends, but the others, attended by their women folk, were still in our keeping. By threats and force we got them along towards the station, though our progress was slow, and often interrupted by the women who clung about us, begging that we would spare them each her loved one.

One old dame, whose grandson was among the captured, cursed us the whole journey, and altogether we felt like a party of murderers. At the station we found Commander Kierston and his men with a dozen prisoners handcuffed together in the center of the group. The commander shut the women outside the station, and we got into the train unimpeded. But long after we had left, the wails and lamentations of the crowd outside rang in our ears.

This was, I am happy to say. my first and last experience of a press gang. Kiersen, who had taken part in previous expeditions of the same sort, assured me that one soon got used to it, but for my own part I had sooner be engaged in a slave raid. To make matters worse, after what I had seen, I was, of course, unable to talk the matter over with Blake, and hanging about doing nothing at Portland

was about the worst thing possible for me. My mind kept dwelling upon the gruesome scenes of that memorable night, and inflamed by reading the violent articles that appeared about it. For the press, with a few honorable exceptions, shrieked loudly about the press gang outrages. I worked myself up into quite a fever of remorse. As for Blake, he went and volunteered for any desperate service that might be on hand, and before long got one that soon relegated the press gang in. incidents into the obscurity of the past. End of Chapter 4.

Chapter 5 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is the Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 5. A Torpedo Boat Attack. Bovery, said Blake to me a few days later,

That press-gang business has regularly fixed you up. You need the blue pill of excitement, as old Dr. Donoroli used to put it, so I've secured a nice little job for you. What's in the wind now, sir? I inquired. I welcome anything to vary the monotony of hanging about idle in this infernal hole. "'Well, you'll get it tonight in plenty, anyway,' he replied, "'as I volunteered to lead a torpedo-boat attack, "'which ought to give us something to think about for a long while to come.' His words were prophetic enough, though in a way we little thought of them.

The projected attack was on Sherbourg. Two or three attacks had been made on this place, either from Portland or Alderney, but each had been a disastrous failure, and this in which we were about to take part was rather of the nature of a forlorn hope. It was designed more with a view to harassing the enemy than with any more definite and serious object, though, of course, we were not told that at the time. There was the usual call for volunteers, and six boats were selected for the enterprise, the three-80s that the Rado acted as division-boat to, a couple of 70s, and number 65,

which Blake took command of. This boat was the only survivor of the sea flotilla, and the lieutenant who commanded her having been killed, and the sub-scent ashore wounded, I took the latter's place. I don't mean to be destroyed by catchers, if I can help it, said Blake, when we had all gathered in the stuffy little cabin to settle the plan of campaign. All torpedoes, except those in the 80s,

are to be set for four-foot depth only, so you'll be able to fire at catches without sending your torpedoes under them. And don't fire till you're within a cable's length at the outside. Better not fire at all, then fire from too far away and miss. One torpedo got home is worth a dozen wasted in the water, you know. So just all of you remember it. I shall be round shortly to see that everything is all right. There must be no bungling over tonight's business.

An hour or so later, Blake went round the boats, testing and inspecting everything. Then, our preparations being complete, we steamed out through the hole in the wall, and slowly along insure. "'Blenham will accompany you. No other British cruisers out!' came a semaphore as we left, and presently in the growing dusk we made out the great cruiser coming up, keeping some two miles astern and about the same distance to starboard of us. Number 65 leading, we kept along for some hours in a single column of line ahead, going a good sixteen knots, and leaving the cruiser farther and farther astern.

The previous bad weather had abated, and the water was still and glassy, a dead black sheet, save for the phosphorescent gleams that licked our bow and shot across the little streaky waves we left in our wake. It was a dreamy, peaceful night, and strong, contrast to the errand of death on which we were speeding, the sort of night that one involuntarily associates with peace and love, the sort of night that makes those at sea think gently of loved ones in the far away. So thought I, as I reviewed in my mind a little romance of my own, wondering whether someone would, on my account, scan the morrow's papers with quickened pulse

and baited breath, reading of how we had distinguished. ourselves, or perchance dropping a tear if my name were in the list of those who would come back never more. Then insensibly my mind turned to Blake and his love affair, into which I had had such strange involuntary insights, and being in a curious mood, I began to vaguely query whether I should sometime learn the end of it all. And even as I wondered, the man himself joined me where I sat on deck near the standard compass, keeping an eye on the boats astern. Our nerves were strung to a high state of tension, and I remember as though it were yesterday,

how we held our hands over our pipes, lest perchance an enemy's cruiser should sight the glow. We had sat in silence some little time when the skipper leaned over in my direction. Look here, bovary, old man, said he, I mayn't come out of this job. and if I lose the number of my mess, and you don't, I'd like you to send the packet in my inside pocket to the address that's on it, and stay, you can do me another service, too.

You remember when we boarded the Valletta the other day, how I was knocked all of a heap. Miss Moncton, who, as I told you, was my fiancée, had been hit on the head by a bit of shell, but after they'd dressed it she seemed all right, and came on deck again, when the firing ceased. She was there when the DeVu went down. The wound must have affected her brain in some way, however, or else that awful sight did, for she had to be taken below again quite delirious. And when her father led me to where she lay in a half-faint, and told her I had come, she roused herself, shrieking that I was a murderer, and so on. After a while she got quite hysterical and didn't even know me. So I did the wisest thing and came away and didn't see her again

until that unfortunate episode last night. I suppose it's fate that I should appear to her as a cold-blooded butcher, but I want you, if I go under, to try and see her, to try and explain how I am not what fate has made me seem, and you understand what it is, I feel. A fellow doesn't like to put it all into words. I promised to do as he wished, and began making some ordinary enough remarks to the effect that I hoped things would come all right and so on, when I was interrupted by the lookout man near me,

calling in a sort of stage whisper, "'Oarships on the starboard bow!' Away to the southward, faintly discernible by night-glasses, were three vessels steaming slowly in station. Frenchman, cried Blake, man, an arm ship. I had no time to look about me for the next five minutes, but I could hear the whistles signaling to our flotilla,

and presently we altered station. We were going to head off the enemy and sink him as he came up. My tubes, I had the forward pair, being trained to starboard, I got a good view of the coming fight. The enemy had not seen us as yet, and moving at slow speed there was nothing to indicate our presence to them. On they came, three ships, each about four cables a stern of the other. The sternmost, larger than the rest, looked like a battleship or first-class cruiser,

and Her Blake singled out as our special prey. Our dispositions were quickly made. We intended to wait in two columns ahead of them till they should come up between us, unless they should spot us on open fire before, in which case our whole flotilla would attack and trust to luck. When the ships were yet a mile or so away, they sighted the Blenheim and made some signals in her direction, whereupon she immediately put on full speed towards them,

signaling as she went. Cue to the Blenum to occupy their attention, said Blake. "'Wants to get a look in, too, sir,' called out a sub, from one of the 80s, "'Let's go at them now, sir!' He had hardly ceased speaking when the leading cruiser burst into flame. A torrent of shot whistled over our heads,

and at the same moment number 72, which was commanded by a sub-named Du Warn, who was more than anxious to distinguish himself, started off at them full speed without waiting for any orders. The next ship now began to fire as well, and off we all went in their direction. But a detour was necessary, as our quarry, instead of waiting to be attacked, came slap-bang at us. We had hardly started, however, before we saw the Blenheim close to them, sending up rockets and signaling, and presently they ceased to fire.

By God, they are our own cruisers! shouted Blake, and we made as hard as we could pelt after young Dewarne, whistling and flashing to him to come back. But it was too late. A great dimly white column shot up from the bow of the leading cruiser, followed by the sullen boom of an exploding torpedo. And then we came with inhale of DeWarn's boat, returning to see what damage she had inflicted. I guess this means promotion, sir, he sang out to Blake as we passed each other. Promotion! You cursed, young fool! You blown up one of our own ships!

Come and see what mischief you have done! Our men came tumbling up from below, whither they had been sent to lie down under as much cover as they could find, and we got the dingy ready to launch. It is one thing to destroy an enemy, another to see one's own countrymen struggling for life. The cruiser, she turned out to be the forte, was settling down at the bow,

and we could see her crew getting out the boats in great haste. The Blenham and other ships were soon, near the spot, playing their searchlights on the wreck, while all of them were sending boats, and we were in hopes of getting all the crew safe away, when suddenly, and without warning, the Forte plunged under, carrying with her many of the ship's boats, and also number 85, which had been badly damaged in the attack. To warn, who up to this moment had been standing by his quartermaster, staring like a dazed man at the wreck, suddenly threw up his arms, and with an awful shriek plunged into the sea, and we saw him no more. Poor boy, he and many a brave sailor

have been sacrificed to a signalman's blunder. Our half-trained and overworked signalman had misread that last semaphore about ships in the channel as we left Portland. The signal really made was, All ships out in groups of three at four cables will show green light before firing on torpedo boats. The Amarly, with a view to avoiding disasters of this sort, have made elaborate arrangements similar to the above. Signalman, like everything else, could not be made in a day out of the raw materials supplied to the fleet. This sort of mistake we had most of us met with in maneuvers, but then everybody considered it a good job. joke, but now. The senior captain, after consultations with the others, decided to go on with the French. So, after half an hour's delay, we started off again. From Portland to Sherbourg is roughly

about 75 miles, steaming at an average of 16 knots an hour, and allowing for the delay caused by the sinking of the forte, we expected to be off the place about 2.30 a.m. Leaving the cruises behind for a rallying point, our five remaining boats steamed on. Some boats from Alderny, which was very closely watched by the French, were supposed to make a faint to attract the attention of the catchers guarding Sherbourg. But of this attack we neither saw nor heard anything. After an hour steaming, Blake reckoned that we were off the place, so we reduced speed, but nothing was visible. Then, all of a sudden, two black objects, rapidly increasing in size, appeared in the water ahead. A moment later we were bathed in the blinding glare of searchlights.

We scattered to try and avoid the rays. They could not succeed in keeping all of us under observation, and our boat managed to do this. Blake was steering the boat himself, standing on deck, as it was impossible to work her properly from the Cunning Tower, and he and the warrant officer, Mr. Hacker, who had the after-torpedo tubes, were the only persons on deck besides myself. In less time that it takes to right, one of the destroyers was abreast of us, and as she passed I fired the port torpedo, which was set for four feet only. A regular tempest of shot hailed round about us at the same moment, and I saw Mr. Hacker fall back from his tubes and slide through the railings into the water.

The skipper I could not see, but on running aft I found him all of a heap on the deck, though still grasping the steering wheel. Taking the gunner's place, I waited till we passed the other destroyer, which got her searchlight on us at that instant. I believe I discharged the torpedo. Then the whole thing collapsed, and I was left in darkness. While far astern I could make out the catcher still unhurt, with her light on number 74, and then the whole thing.

That was the last scene of that boat. But another of ours must have come up and torpedoed the enemy, for she disappeared, though in the noise and racket of firing I did not notice any explosion. Blake still lay at the steering wheel, amid the shattered remnants of the after-conning tower, and from the engine hatch came a cloud of scalding white steam, so that passage forward was now impossible. I sang out to the men in the bow, and after several attempts, heard, and answering hail. Then, going below to the wardroom, yelled through the voice tube to the engine

room, but there was no response. Getting on deck again, I cited one of the 80 boats steaming slowly towards us in little better plight than ourselves. Her skipper tried to get us in tow, I believe, but it would have fared ill with both of us had not one of our cruisers come up just in the nick of time, for the men forward now cried out that we were sinking. The skipper of the 80-boat, who had made one or two ineffectual efforts to come alongside, sang out to us to be ready for a boat that was coming from the cruiser, and I now remembered our poor skipper, whom I had forgotten in the perplexities of the situation. I raised him to see if he yet lived, but he lay as a dead weight in my arms, and his coat was soaked with blood. I held him thus till the Andromach's boat,

his boat, which had taken off the blue jackets forward, came round to our stern, and two of her crew jumping on board us, carried the skipper into the stern sheets, while I hastily scrambled after them, fending away almost as soon as I had done so. I can just remember waking as we reached the cruiser, and seeing lanterns held over the side as our skipper was hoisted up over, but when I took the man-ropes, my strength failed me, and I had to be taken over. over the side in the same fashion as Blake. A couple of days later the Andromache put into Portsmouth, and we, that is, Blake and I, were sent to Haslar Hospital,

which was full of wounded men, as also were all Miss Weston's homes. Blake had fainted from loss of blood, having been wounded in the left arm by a bullet, while a fragment of shell had hit his back. They put me and a cot alongside the skipper, for those, though I had received no actual wound, the torpedo tube, when the shock knocked it round, had bruised and crushed me all over. And we made a sorry pair. My mother came to see me here. Poor little mother. All her three sons had gone to serve queen and country, and one lay wounded at Haslar, while another slept beneath the ocean. My surviving brother was a lieutenant in the

Blue Marines, and hitherto faint had spared him. I shall tell his story later. There were a great many nurses about the ward, many evidently lady volunteers, who, with gentle, sympathetic touch and soothing voice, did much to calm and allay the suffering around them. There were occasional visitors, too, and dimly I remember seeing, in my half delirium, a tall and stately woman bending over the unconscious Blake. She seemed to be always watching him, till I began to wonder whether, after all, she was aught but a creation of my fevered brain.

I was one day idly staring at her thus, half envious of Blake, when seeing my gaze fixed upon them, she came towards me and spoke. You are one of Lieutenant Blake's officers, are you not? Then, she went on as I assented, "'Will you do us both a favor? Never tell him what you have seen.

Promise?' "'I promised, and I kept my word. Next day Blake had recovered consciousness, but his strange visitor had disappeared altogether, and to this day I cannot be sure who she was, whether she was Miss Moncton or another, or even whether the whole scene were ought but an invalid's hallucination. End of chapter.

Chapter 6 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is Lebervox recording. All Leberbox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 6. The Bombardment While I was getting convalescent in this little paradise, the war was working its course,

but into most of the details of events in which I had no part I do not propose to enter. Abler pens than mine have done justice to these great battles already, and this is merely a little story of the war, as it seemed to a junior officer little conversant with its main issues. It was while I lay at Haslar that news came of the great fight officer, Toulon, in which, after a conflict of desperate valor, both sides lay by, unable to do any more injury to each other. And of how the Russians, breaking through the Dardanelles to take the British fleet in the rear, fell a prey to the second-class torpedo boats of the Vulcan, and of all the other momentous events of those three days, in which nearly all the belligerent

vessels disappeared from the Mediterranean, having mutually destroyed each other. Almost simultaneously came the news of the Kronstadt disaster, a disaster that sounded the first note of the downfall of the empire. My Marine brother in the Northampton sent me a letter describing this event, which I may be pardoned for quoting here. The first part, as may be seen, was written before the catastrophe. My dear brother, he wrote, I've been a long time in replying to your last, but have been hoping to have some news descend, and hitherto things have been dull as ditch water with us. But news avon chance all to ceilah, as the new admiral is going to bombard Kronstadt tomorrow, and God help us in this old packet. However, I won't croak, but we'll send you a flowing description

of it when it's over. That is, if I get through, which is open to doubt, I'm afraid. We've a jolly ship's company, though most of them are old stagers. Old. Punchy, whom you doubtless remember, is our commander, and her regular zealot he is, he didn't expect to get his promotion, and having got it after all, is as proud as his namesake, and spends all his time over spit and polish and having the ship painted. Odin, as we call the skipper, is bitten that way, too, so between them we're about the smartest-looking ship out here, though that's about as far as it goes, as our crew are a miserable set, all told.

Our fellows are only passable. While there aren't 20 decent blue jackets, all the rest are raw landlubber recruits. And I'm told that the Stokers are, if anything, worse, since Odin has managed to lick the sailor recruits into some sort of shape, though it exhausted his vocabulary to do it. We have the inevitable war correspondent on board, and as he has never been to see before in his life,

you may guess we get some fun out of him. All his previous existence seems to have been spent in the House of Commons press gallery, so we younger fellows pull his leg no end, though my conscience pricks me now and then, as he's a good sort at bottom and takes it all very well. Our young doctor supplies all the technical parts of his letters home, or he and the AP between them do, so you may guess the sort of stuff that goes to his paper. I don't think our young sawbones knows the royal a oak from a torpedo boat, but somehow or other, correspondents without technical knowledge

always go to these fellows. I fancy he twigged at last that their information was a bit unreliable, for after a bit he tried to tap me, and that's what started the leg pulling, for upon my word, I'm not exactly A-1 in Naval Matters, though I'm pretty fair in gunnery. I hear they've got a correspondent in the Royal Oak, who writes a couple of learned works on the Navy every year. and he, when last heard of, had been trying to teach the Admiral how to capture Kronstadt. Offered to take command for him, some fellows say. But his dodge was a cute one all the same. Still. I have the two after ten-inch guns, same sort as you had in the poor old Nelson.

But how we're going to fight these muzzle-loading old pop guns is beyond me altogether. Still, we've got to try somehow. You'd hardly think from this yarn that we're going into action tomorrow at daybreak, but it's best to try and keep one's pecker up, and I prefer not to think of what's got to be gone through between now and this time tomorrow. Well, goodbye, old fellow, if this should chance to be my last letter. I've got to write to the mater yet. It's already gone four bells, so lights out will be round if I don't hurry up.

The other part of the letter was stated some days later. I've not been able to write before, old man, because after the bombardment, of which you'll have heard air this, I've had too much to do helping the doctors and so on. I believe our fleet is altogether knocked out of time. The poor old Northo is, anyway. It makes me sick to think of the fight even now. I don't think I'll ever get the taste of it out of my mouth. We got in at daybreak and opened fire at about 4,000 yards on a big fort. but our guns aren't much good at that distance even, so Odin edged in nearer till we got within 2000.

It was a curious sensation laying the rear port ten-inch. I did it myself to make sure of a good shot, and I think it got home, but the port being closed directly we fired. I can't say for certain. There were splashes in the water all round us, but the Russians hadn't got the range then, and it just gave us time to get cool behind the...

armored bulkhead. I don't know how the poor devils and midships can have felt, with only a sheet of thin iron between them and the enemy, and to make matters worse, they hadn't got the wire screens which should go between the nine-inch guns to localize shell fire. These were left behind at Chatham, of course. We might have been able to make some sort of shift with the torpedo nets, but they were out and down, and a good thing they were, too, for we had at least three torpedoes explode in them. It seems very tame and prosy as I write this, and think of what the real affair was. It's little more exciting than our log, which says, in your regular executive style, Bombarded Cronstadt, opened fire 6 a.m. at 4,000 yards to 2,000 yards range, received heavy fire

about 6.30, had to haul out of action at 645, battery totally disabled, and greater part of crew killed or wounded. That is all correct enough, but bald. Well, as I was saying, the shot kept on missing us, and we were getting quite chirpy when there came a couple of violent explosions from the battery of midships. The whole place was filled with an infernal suffocating stink, and I just caught a glimpse through the smoke of a gun falling over, and everything smashed a smithereens. We were just about to fire our Starburg gun, for the ship, the ship's was shifting stern on to the shore batteries, when it ran back on its stand and toppled over, crushing three men beneath it and sending the rest held her scelter. I was upset by them,

but was soon on my legs again and over to the other gun, which we eased off directly, we got a sight. I looked round at the battery amid ships. There was a great hole in the deck, with dead and wounded men lying all around it. And even as I looked, there came a swish, swish, and an awful tearing sound. The ship's turning head exposed the main deck to the forts, which had now got our range with small QF and machine guns, and the poor devils of midships were going down like ninepins. Of those left alive, some were rushing wildly up and down,

screaming for mercy, driven clean mad, and others were jumping out of the ports into the sea. It was all over in a few seconds, but by the time the ship had got round again, with the four bulkhead against the enemy's fire, there wasn't a single man left standing at our eight unprotected guns. My God, it was an awful thing to look upon, an awful thing. There was a lull now for a few minutes,

as neither of our bow guns were firing, and overhead the Hotschkiss guns had ceased. They began again for a minute or so, then as suddenly stopped, and nothing was to be heard save the groaning of the wounded, the roar of battle outside, an occasional thud of a shot striking the bulkhead, which made the old Northo tremble from head to stern. Two or three times there came more violent shock still,

and we were all thrown off our feet, while the ship lurched as though she were foundering. I suppose we must have gone on working our gun, but I can't remember anything definite till I saw the captain coming down the companion by the ship's bill. He was badly wounded, but in voice embarrassed, kept the same as ever. "'Hum, Mr. Bovary, you'll be glad to hear

where to keep out of this. Why, damn me, it's worse here than on deck!' He spoke as though nothing very unusual had happened, and it pulled me together. I found then that we were out of range, and had been for some time. A cruiser had towed us out of danger, for the ship, being pretty well blown inside out,

could neither steer nor steam. Of the 550 who made our cruise, in the morning, only about 130, mostly Stokers, answered to the muster roll, and of these less than 40 are unhurt. I am one of them, I'm thankful to say. It seems Odin had the Stokers up to man the QF guns, because all the blue jackets at them were killed. Darcy, my captain, is still alive, but very seriously wounded, and the skipper and commander are still on their legs, all the other executives are down. Our newspaper man, the purser, and the Padre have all lost the number of their mess, killed while trying to take a wounded man below. Our armor has been

pierced in several places, but on the whole has kept shot out well, as it is dented all over where they've hit it, and rebounded or glanced off. We have lost the Royal Oak, Aurora, Monarch and Temerere. While the other ships are so knocked about that, had the Russian ironclads come out, they'd have sunk the lot of us. Luckily, providentially, they didn't. Afraid of our torpedo boats, they let us draw off, but this licking will do us no end of harm. The Northampton is ordered home. I hope she won't sink, by the way. A fresh fleet has just met us, not before they were wanted. their news would, however, be stale to you. I hope this coal-strike scare hasn't got any truth in it.

We have had the most alarming rumors of it. Chin-chin, old chap. Your affectionate brother, Charles Bovery. P.S., have you heard that the Royal Oak was sunk by a dynamite gun? The coal strike, to which my brother alluded, is all too well-known in England. Everyone remembers this repetition on a gigantic scale of the coal strike of 1893, how it spread all over Europe and was started to show the brotherhood of workers. While they shot them down or made them work abroad, the British government let things be till the coal reserves were exhausted and our fleets well-nigh idle. Everyone, too, knows the panic that came about when the Admiral in the Baltic sent telegram after telegram saying that his fleet was laid.

up useless in the Abbe Archipelago for want of fuel, and how, when it was too late, troops were sent to end the strike and compel the men to work. Fewer people are aware how our Baltic squadron got such coal as it had. Cute Yankees sent over colliers flying French or Russian flags. There was a nominal capture by British ships, and the coal changed hands for about its weight in gold. Blake and I were reported fit for duty on the same day. He had got his extra stripe for sinking the Davout, which was made a deal of in the papers. He got a destroyer as his new ship, and he did me the honor of fixing things at the A

so that I came as his sub, for I had got that amount of promotion over the Davu business. I have omitted to state that while we were on the sick list, our poor old Rado went down with colors flying off the French coast. A cruiser settled her hash. The Admiralty had just started that very wise plan of renaming new ships after such vessels as had gone down, after rendering themselves famous in the war. Truly, Blake's new ship, one of the latest destroyers, was better with her new name of Rattlesnake than under her old one of Snarler or Jellyfish. I forget now which of these names was her her original one. The new Rado was 250 feet long, carried four torpedo tubes amid ships, one twelve-pounder QF, and five three-pounder QF guns, and could make about 30 knots an hour speed.

Unlike the majority of the destroyers, she belonged to the Vernon instead of to the excellent fellows, and so was practically put into commission as a large independent sea-going torpedo boat. the Admiralty having soon found out that a certain number of officers acting more or less on their own fancy could do a tremendous amount of damage to the enemy. Our compliment was fifty, five above the allotted number, and besides Blake and myself, we carried an acting sub, who, poor beggar, was too seasick most of the time to be of much service, except when there was any fighting on. He was then as a fiend incarnate. Death was a far easier foe to face than seasickness. On the whole, we did fairly well in the Rado. Her size made her a far better seaboat than the earlier havoc and boxer types,

and we had things pretty much our own way, Blake having had the luck or influence to get a seasoned crew. Many of the destroyers, manned by half-raw seamen, were as good as useless in the bad weather then prevailing. Weather which kept nearly all the hostile small craft, in port. We, of course, couldn't keep the sea for more than a few days on end. Still, it was a thing to get out at all. We were ordered to the Baltic with some cruisers, both to reinforce the fleet there, and to help accompany and protect a large fleet of colliers, which have been

filled the moment the coal strike ended. Before we left Portsmouth, however, a meeting took place on board the torpedo depot ship Vernon, which, though not very lengthy or largely attended, was destined to alter the history of the world. End of chapter. Chapter 7 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is the Lieber Vox recording. All Lieber Vox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Leepervox.org.

This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane, Chapter 7, On Convoy Duty Well, you fellows clearly understand what it is that I advocate, and what responsibility it will throw upon us. It's a foregone conclusion, I take it, that our fleet in the Baltic is bound to get licked, because the Russians, if they've got any savvy at all, will attack before the colliers reach our ships, and then, having polished us off in their own waters, the Channel Fleet will, without any difficulty, be demolished or shut up and harbour by them

when they have combined with the French. "'Let us have your plan in full, Blake. You've only given a very rough outline as yet,' said someone. "'By all means, I intend doing it myself, with or without assistance, and to back it from my private purse. Not that I think England deserves it, since when the Admiralty wanted to send the Channel fleet to combine with Morseillae and dish up the French at Toulon, the whole country,

fearing invasion, rose against them and prevented it, with the result that our Mediterranean fleet is now practically non-existent. You might add, too, put in Lieutenant Berkeley, look at the contents bills of the evening papers. They put what interests their public most. horse races and the labor question. Patriotism has become minus X to the N, and the English as a nation don't care a hang for their country so long as their own dirty skins are comfortable. However, excuse the interruption, go on with your plan, Blake. Well, continued our skipper, you may remember if your classical history, Berkeley, is equal to your algebra, that Athens lost your whole

Navy at Ejuspotami, save a few ships that one Conan had the sense to save, and use later on his own hook. I propose following his program in the event of things turning out as badly as we anticipate. Directly the Russians polish off our Baltic fleet and get through the sound. I am going to bolt for the Scotch Coast. Lamblash will, I think, be the best harbor, because I know that channel well. And being on an island, we can cut the telegraph wires so that no intelligence reaches the English newspapers, and through them the enemy. There we can concentrate at leisure, mature our plans, and fall on the enemy with torpedoes as soon as he has command of the English channel and begins to invade. I've worked out most of the details, but these can be discussed later.

What I want to know is, how many of you? you fellows will join in the enterprise. I'm with you for one. Put me down. Me too. I'd sooner go down making a fight for it than be sunk trying to bolt. Similar cries resounded through the Vernon's smoking room, and we all cheered in our enthusiasm at the idea of a campaign carried out entirely by torpedo men. When the noise had subsided a bit, Commander Rexum rose from the chair in which he had been lolling. I am not one for speeches and plovering, and all I want to say is this. We need a senior officer to boss the show, and I am senior to the rest of you,

but I think Blake is the better man for the job, and the idea belongs to him alone, so I propose that we elect him, Commodore of the Lamblash Torpedo Fleet. Everyone present rose to second the proposal, and thus it came about that everything was arranged against Britain's expected collapse. Mind, said Blake, as he acknowledged his unorthodox promotion, beyond all else it is necessary that this be kept quiet. It means deserting at a moment when our services would be most useful to protect any battleships that may escape the general disaster,

and neither the Admiralty nor anyone else will be likely to sanction that. But it also means that, Instead of being practically useless and destroyed piecemeal, we shall bag the best part of the hostile fleets soon afterwards. It is a grave step, but I think that we shall do our duty best by so doing. And get court-martial for not having gone down without accomplishing anything, put in the cynical, Berkeley.

But I'm with you all the same. After some of the principal details had been settled, the meeting broke up, and the next day the rattlesnake sailed for the Baltic, in company with three cruisers and some colliers. Expectation was rife as to whether we should encounter any hostile vessels, but we reached Sheerness, where we filled up with coal, and picked up another destroyer and some more colliers, without siding a single warship other than cruisers of our own side in the downs. That's all very well, Blake was saying,

but we haven't entered the wood yet. Tisn't likely we'd come across Frenchmen in the chops of the channel, as well look for them in the serpentine. The channel just now is an English lake. If you want to see what's going to happen, just wait till we've left the Knorr and the mouse behind us. We were dining at the Sheerness Gunnery School, where a few old stagers,

retired goodness-nows-how-many years, and a sprinkling of convalescent combatants held solemn court. Everybody originally belonging to the place had been sent away long ago. Its present occupants, though most of them had volunteered for active service, were verily the halt, the maimed, and the blind. The senior of them all, an old warrant officer, retired as a lieutenant, was popular reported to have served under Nelson at Chaffalgar, while the junior, a peer of the realm who had quitted the service when yet a mid-shipman,

and was said to be now serving in that capacity, was well over sixty years old. All of them were gouty, rheumatic, or wanting in legs and arms, but all of them spent the day in cursing the Admiralty for sending them there instead of a float. Poor old boys, they were useful enough at sheer nasty in those busy days, and had the civilians of England had a tenth of their pretext, patriotism, things would have gone very differently to the way in which they did. As for the convalescence, well, they could crawl, and that was about all. It was a shame to employ them so soon, but it was a case of needs must when the devil drives,

with those who sent them there. For that matter, there were plenty of wounded heroes afloat with the fleets, who just got up to take their watches and then had to go to bed till duty called them to their legs again. It sounds almost improbable now, but what was to be done? None complained. Duty called them to fight for England as long as they had a leg to stand on, and they did it uncomplainingly. They died in the end, every one of them. Only the very strongest tonics the doctors could give kept them going at all. Ah, well, it's over now, and they are all forgotten, these unknown heroes of the war. Our dinner with the sheerness veterans was a cheerful enough affair in its way.

They were all anxious to bid us Godspeed for the morrow, and everybody was pretty chirpy, except Blake, who of late had taken to croaking a good deal. The skipper of the other destroyer, who had been at the Vernon meeting, put it down in private to our skipper's fear, lest the defeat of the British fleet, the essential preliminary to Blake's scheme, should not come off. Now we intervene to stop Blake's prognostications,

charging him that all those things, being inevitable, must wait till the morrow. All right, Blake answered. Fire away about something else. That's it, said one of the veterans. Here we've asked Major Brown over to give you fellows a true and faithful report of the target practice of the newly enrolled shouter gun fensibles. and you won't give him a chance to tell it. Well, we're all attention now.

The name of the Corps sounds interesting. You must know, said the Major, who was a ponderous sort of humorous and belonged to the gunners, you must know that the garrison here has been so depleted, thanks to men needed to help man's ships and for foreign service, that we've only a couple of hundred regulars here, all told. The rest are militia, and London. and volunteers, infantry mostly, but that's a detail in these days.

Well, getting to hear of this, the shouter, one of these newspapers started since the war began, conceived the brilliant idea of raising a subscription force for the defense of sheerness, and we've got them with us now. A special correspondent chronicles their daily doings, what they eat, what they drink, what they say, how brave they think. feel, and all the rest of it, not forgetting to mention the unfortunate and unreasonable jealousy with which they are regarded by the conventional garrison. Conventional garrison is good, said someone. Well, how do they get on? Get on, repeated the Major. Well, I wish they had joined the enemy instead. They'd have been

a real help to us then. You see, they're all cockney. with votes, and the government just now will do any mortal thing to catch votes, and with a view of getting the few thousand votes of these fellows, it is given them the new fort outside the dockyard, the one where the couple of nine-inch guns used to be. The shouter, of course, published full plans and details of the fort, all the distances and so forth, so the enemy, if they come, will know exactly how to destroy the thing.

Though maybe that'll be a blessing in disguise, as, upon my soul, I fancy the first thing the shouters would do in a bombardment by ships coming up the river would be to drop shells into us out Milton Way, under the impression that we were a hostile turret ship. Well, you have our sympathies, Major, said Blake when the laugh had died away. But no offense, you know, I'm afraid I'm a bitter opponent of your forts altogether. other. The money that they cost would have been far better spent on half a dozen ships at sea. It's rank heresy of me to say so, the Major answered, but, Sub Rosa, I'm getting to be of your opinion. I don't know, of course, that I'd go so far as you, and advocate no forts at a place

like this, but as a general rule, I'm coming around to the belief that the enemy shores are our boundaries and not the coast of England. Where are the shores of England? They're every hostile coast, sang someone farther down the table. A signalman came in at this moment, interrupting the songster. Signal for officers of the fleet, he read. All officers to repair on board immediately. Convoy to put to sea without delay.

Our dinner party was hastily broken up. instead of waiting at sheerness for some cruises from Chatham, we were to be off then and there, and a couple of hours later we were underway. It was a big job getting the collier's started, but it was done at last, and out we all went. The escort was small, too small, in fact, but no more ships were available. Some miles ahead of the convoy, the decoy, the other destroyer, scouted. Then came the Eger, heading the Collier fleet, which was disposed in two columns of line ahead, eight vessels in each column. A stern of these again were some tramps running cargoes to Danish and Swedish ports. On either beam a second-class cruiser scouted, while our duties, the most onerous

of the lot, consisted in steaming swiftly up and down between the columns, doing what we could to keep the merchant vessels in station. We also had to scout a stern, so altogether were pretty hard-worked. We passed the forts manned by the shouter-core safely, and when morning broke were steaming along at eight knots in terribly irregular order, but the merchantmen, thanks to our exertions, were all in sight. This was a comfort. As Blake had prophesied, we should lose about two a night, and I was quite astonished on counting them to find that none were missing. About eleven o'clock we met our first adventure. The decoy came tearing back, signaling that strange cruisers were ahead.

Frenchmen, I'll be bound, exclaimed Blake, and that's why everything's been so quiet of late in the Atlantic. Depend upon it, these fellows have been round the north of Scotland, whilst our ships have been looking out for them in the channel. They got hold of English newspapers and learnt the exact disposition of our convoy, date of sailing, and all the rest of it, and now they're going to scoop us all. As it afterwards turned out, Blake's surmise was pretty accurate. The French cruisers had managed to slip round our coasts into the North Sea, and one of them lying in a Danish port received telegraphic information from France as to what time we should sail. It was possibly a suspicion of this sort of thing that brought about the sudden change in our time of sailing,

for the French were one too many for us. The convoy came to a standstill. The Egger and the second-class cruisers steamed quickly away ahead, leaving the rattlesnake in charge. They were soon hauled down on the horizon, and we waited in wondering suspense till towards evening, when back they came again. They had found nothing ahead, and shortly afterwards, altering course a few points to the northward, our convoy proceeded at the increased speed of ten knots, which was the utmost many of our flock could manage. Huge columns of black smoke rose from their funnels, leaving great banks of darkness astern,

an indication of our whereabouts visible for miles and miles. The night fell. Fortunately for us it was a fairly light one, with occasional bursts of moonlight through the fleecy clouds that flecked the sky. "'We shall have something happen in the middle, tonight, I guess,' said Blake, as he came up from dinner, "'We'll all be wanted for that watch.' The captain of the Edgar seemed to be of a kindred opinion, and we were kept tearing up and down the lines in strenuous attempts to keep the colliers in some sort of station. About midnight, when the moon was nearer to setting, we had just made one of our innumerable patrols down the columns, which, despite all our efforts, were now fully ten miles long.

We counted them as we steamed past. They were all there, thirty-two vessels, including the traps. "'I say, sir,' said Thorne, as we passed the last of these tramps. "'What do you make of that packet?' he pointed to a large two-funneled steamer. that was going along under easy steam, apparently, notwithstanding that she should, by rights, have been going her hardest. Blake and I both had a good look at the ship.

Then the skipper asked Thorne what puzzled him about her. Only this, sir, that I could swear that last time we came down the lines, all the lame ducks and stragglers were single-funled craft. And you think this is a French cruiser, disguised, who's taken the place of a very laggard tramp while we were ahead? Precisely so, sir. Well, we'd soon make certain by asking a few questions,

besides telling her to make her number, but that might be a bit precipitate, remarked Blake. She'd blow us out of the water before we could get a shot in, so we'll just watch her for a while. I don't think she'll try any larks till she can slip up to the middle of the lines. We steamed on, and presently, watching the mysterious ship from a distance, we saw her put on speed and get ahead of a few of the traps. "'That settles it, I think,' Blake exclaimed. "'Full speed ahead! Man and arm ship! Quietly, mind!'

I gave the necessary orders, and we were soon ready for what might befall. All this time the Rado had been rushing towards the Apollo to whom we signaled our suspicions. Then we went back again at our best speed, the Apollo following at a more leisurely rate. As we had expected, the supposed enemy had again shifted her billet, and was now astern of the colliers, which still kept some sort of station. "'Ready with torpedo tubes,' ordered Blake. "'Here, I'll see to it myself over this job. Steam to within a couple of cables, Bovary. It's a longish distance, but we must risk it. and tell those fellows at the twelve-pounder to keep out of sight.

Then he lay along the tubes, his finger on the trigger, while I carried out his orders. In a few minutes we were within the prescribed range, and Blake called me to steam with the stranger, keeping that space between us. Tell her to make her number, signalman, we heard him say to the man who stood near him. I heard the clicking of the lantern, then came a pause. There was no answering signal, but I fancied I could hear a bustle on board the steamer, the sound of men moving and of gun ports being open. Lie down! I hastily ordered the men at the three-pounders near me.

Repeat the signal, said Blake. It was never repeated, however. Scarcely had the lander begun to click afresh, then the stranger opened a tremendous fire upon us and the colliers around her, and as she did so, I saw the flash of a torpedo darting from our tubes amid ships. The enemy must have seen it, too, for she immediately tried to turn, but it was too late. The torpedo hit her in bow as she circled, and her game was up. Instantly, confusion fell upon the convoy.

One of the colliers, hit by the Frenchman's fire, was already settling down. A second collided with her, and all the others became hopelessly, mixed up. Some came to a standstill. Others went ahead at full speed, and soon distant flashes, and the whistle and screech of shell, told that the long-expected enemy were upon us. Fortunately, the fire of the vessel we torpedoed had been ill-directed so far as we were concerned, and we steamed on, hoping to take some part in the action. Going at 29 knots, our little rato was neither a very visible nor easy target, and we received. We received a very no hurt, but on the other hand, unable to distinguish friend from foe, we did no damage to

the enemy. We were steaming thus, hoping to find ourselves within torpedo distance of a Frenchman, when a signal rocket went up about a mile and a half to starboard of us. Private signal for destroyers, sir, reported Bunting. What is it? Join convoy, I think, sir, the man replied. Blake hurriedly opened the secret signal book and found therein that the rocket was an immediate order for him to move the convoy on as quickly as possible in the prearranged course. Reluctantly enough, we steamed away to execute our orders, but the enemy had been busy among the colliers, having sunk or captured a large number of them already. A few, however, were tailing away to the northwards, and these we followed and got away as fast as ever they could. steam. At daybreak we made out the fox and Edgar steaming after us, and lying by for them to come up, we learn more about the night's work. The enemy, ten cruiser strong, had suddenly come up from all quarters of the compass, and our ships, having delayed them sufficiently for some of the colliers

to escape, have made off, leaving the enemy firing at each other. The Apollo and Decoy had disappeared. They had supposed them to be with us, and not finding them in our company. There was but too good reason to fear that they had been sunk or captured. In any case, however, our sailing orders were too imperative for us to wait to look for them. We have been directed to get into the Baltic at all hazards, with as many colliers as might be able to escape from an attack. So, with nine colliers steaming as hard as ever they could, we hastened on to the Baltic. Baltic, hoping against hope that the French astern would believe that they had sunk such steamers as they did not find amongst the captured, hoping, too, that we might be in time to replenish the empty bunkers of the British Baltic fleet.

Apparently the French believed we were done for, as we were allowed to pursue our way in peace. Soon we were steaming over the still blue waters of the Baltic, heart speeding high in the hope that, after all, we would relieve our country. countrymen in their dire necessity. Nine colliers did not carry very much coal, but they would bring enough to keep things going for a while. End of chapter. Chapter 8 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is the Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 8, England's Igeospotomy.

Some little time passed, and we sped along over those deserted waters, meeting no British cruisers, as we had hoped to do, but since, when last heard of, some four days before our departure, the whole of the British Baltic fleet were skulking about in the Abo archipelago. This was not entirely a matter to be wondered at. We were steaming along one day off Danzig, spread out over the water the better to cite our friends, when we met a British catcher hotly pursued by Russian cruisers. The Edgar and Fox went to her assistance, whereupon the Russians retired, but more of their ships coming up shortly afterwards, we all had to run for it, and we, getting separated from them, never saw either our cruisers or colliers again. For a

ourselves, we managed to shake off our pursuers and to edge round in the direction of the Finnish coast, where we expected to find our own ships. Find them we eventually did, for the next day we came upon a regular forest of ship's masts, standing above the sea where it was shallow along by the islands, and this was the British fleet. While we steamed cautiously among the sunken vessels, trying to recognize them by their rig, we were hailed from a little promontory, that jutted seawards, and turning our glasses in that direction, noted some ragged-looking men in naval uniform chased by a mixed mob of Russian soldiers and peasantry. We lowered a boat and manned our guns in the hope that we might learn something from the fugitives if we succeeded

in rescuing them. The men, plunging into the water, swam to our boat under a heavy fire from the soldiers on shore until we let into the pursuers with our QF guns, which quickly dispersed them. hitherto we had imagined the runaways to be Russian deserters, but when the boat returned she had in her seven British sailors belonging to the Howe, and from them we gathered the first news of the disaster of Abo and the gruesome details of England's egespotomy. They told us how day after day the ships had lain concealed amongst the islands, scarce having coal enough left to keep the cruisers going to deceive the enemy. as to the fleet's whereabouts, and how a few days before the cruisers had brought the intelligence

that the celebrated Rurik had sighted our battleships and easily shown her heels to our swiftest vessels when they sought to capture her ere she should convey the news of the British Admiral's position to the fleet that sought for him. Then came more of our cruisers with the news that the enemy were coming an overwhelming force, and all our ships got up steam as well as we'll as they could with the scrapings of the bunkers, woodwork, boats, and cabin furniture. Guns have been taken ashore, and the front of the position mined, and here, in a landlocked bay, the British waited for their doom. When the Russians first came up, sir, said one of the men, a leading seaman, narrating his

version of the fight to Blake, they held off for a while on the horizon. Perhaps they wasn't quite certain of our strength. Maybe, too, they funked it a bit, thinking as how they'd gone and caught a tartar. The delay was no manner or use to us, as we was fast-burning what fuel we had. Wood we'd cut down ashore, or chairs and tables and cabin fixings. I was sent it to the captain's cabin just before the action with a party to collect fuel, and we cleared out everything that would burn. We tore down all the wood panels. We carried off even books, bedding, clothes, and pictures. Everything that would burn was sent down to the stoke-hole. It burnt, lor, how quick it went. And all this time, the russians were hanging about in the often laughing at us like.

The admiral made a signal. It were the last he ever made. And it read, England expects that every man will die like a true Britain, no surrender. We cheered and cheered again, and then out went our torpedo boats to try and move the Russians. But they never reached them, not they. Every blessed boat was sunk before they got within four cables of them, and then at last the russians came at us. In front of their fleet was a lot of low freeboard turret ships, gunboats and packets of that sort. A stern of these came big ships in a regular cloud of torpedo boats.

The sea was black with them. Black as the ace of spades. The very first shell of what hit us, it must have been a mighty big one. Pretty well did for the how. Hitting us square in the unprotected battery, it bust again the after funnel, killing and wounding everyone at the six-inch guns.

A lot of deck above was torn away, and half the QF guns on that deck was silent, too. The wounded was all poisoned by the fumes of the explosive, and no one could even enter the battery for some while to come. Then a few minutes later, the after-barbet's guns jammed, and we had nothing but the two big guns forward left to fight with. Presently, another shell burst under the four barbette, the turntable give way, and the big guns fallen, crashed right down through the armored deck and through the ship's bottom, so that she began to sink rapidly by the head. We were in shallow water, but the captain steamed yet nearer inshore, and there's the old

anyhow, settled down, with her upper work still showing, and making such practice as she could with her hodge-kisses. This was in the very beginning of the fight, sir, and while the enemy wasn't coming up to close quarters. Soon they was close, and blowing us all to people, and is bit by bit with their bigger quick-fire guns. Our masks came down with a crash, and in a very little while not forty of us was left on our legs. I was trying to do something with one of the six-pounders when I seized the paymaster come up. Men, says he, I'm the only orsifer left. Get out a boat and abandon ship. We'll see you damned first, I called out, unthinking like, what about the admiral's signal? For we was all mad with him, a civilian orsifer, wanting us to cut and run.

"'What about it?' says he, smiling. "'Why, can't we do more good in another ship? Come on, sharp!' I begs his parting then, thinking all saying that, as we'd all got to be killed, I'd be lucky to get no court-martial, or ten-A, at least. There were a boat towing alongside under the ship's lee, the only one we hadn't burnt, because she'd been fetching wood up to the time the battle begun. And into this we all tumbles. That is all what were left of us by then, some five-and-twenty-odd. Quite near us was the Magnificat, the new flagship, making fine fighting of it, and we rode over to her and was took on board.

They cheered us like blazes for coming, and we was soon at it again as hard as ever. Luckily, the Magnificat had some coal still left, and she was soon steaming fast at the russians, and I now seed why they put their worst ships forward. They had just gone to be blown up by our minds, and now their best ships come up closer. They rammed our side one after the other. Our fellows hadn't steam enough to get out of the way. And then what didn't get rammed, ran ashore, and was finished off that way. Some of our ships tore. Some of our ships tore. torpedoed the russians, and some got torpedoed themselves, but mostly it was ram and gun what did it. And come some half an hour later, the Magnificat were the only ship left afloat and fighting.

You see, sir, we'd a good nine inches of armor over most of our guns, and that kept off a power of a lot of shells, and what with that, and are still having a little coal, we was able to fight like ten ships. It weren't no matter of good, though, for all that. The armor couldn't stand battering forever. The coal was well nigh done, and our speed got less and less, while we fired so fast that ammunition soon began to run short, too. He may wonder as how the admiral didn't try to run for it at the last, but he hadn't the coal, and so he just kept on trying to do as much harm to the enemy

as he could before we went under. Well, it weren't for long, sir. We'd nothing left a fire at their torpedo boats with, and a couple of the beggars sneaked up and fired all their torpedoes into us. The Magnificat went down with a regular rush in eight fathoms. Her biler's busting as she did so, and those of us what was lucky swam ashore. We got into a little cave and watched the russians sending boats

to haul down the white ensigns what still flew from the British mast-heads. And having done this, all their ironclads what was left formed up into line of breast, facing the wrecks of our ships, and fired a salute. Then they all dipped their ensigns and stood out to sea. "'More to his salutio,' said Blake gravely, as the man finished his tail. "'Well,' he added, after a lengthy pause, "'are you the only survivors?' "'I can't say, sir. Plenty of us got a Scottish shawl. shore, but the islands was full of soldiers who'd been landed some time before to capture our shore guns, and they took scores of men prisoners as they swam to land. We'd durst venture out of the cave till

nightfall, and then, nigh dead from cold and hunger, we hunted along the beach for limpetes and things to eat. There were a little stream what trickled down by the cave, so we had plenty of water, and we hung about there, a dozen or more of us, till to-de-dard. There were a little stream. We'd day when one of our A.Bs was fool enough to yell to a girl who was picking up seaweed on the beach. She ran off like a mad thing, so I says, clear out while we can, and we all got out over the cliff and into some long grass on top. Then we sighted your ship, sir, and we was waving to you when up come the soldiers, and we cut and run for it till you come to the rescue, for which we thanks you kindly, sir. We hung about the coast looking for further survivors, but we found none,

and several Russian warships appearing on the horizon we made off in another direction at full speed. We must find our colliers, said Blake, after hearing the engineers report, for we haven't enough coal to take us back under easy steam, let alone the risk of capture by so doing. My great grief is that the co-workers of England don't live by the seashore, for by heaven, if they did, I'd make for the place and shell it till there wasn't a man left alive, or stone remained standing. It is this coal strike that has ruined England. All we can do now is to try and cripple the enemy in small ways. The day for another Trafalgar is passed forever. Yes, it was past, passed even more certainly than we then dreamed of.

For that very night it came about that England no longer possessed a fleet. A foggy afternoon, with the ironclads blowing their sirens, a fleet of French torpedo boats guided and attracted by the sound, were the two leading points of that practically unpreventable catastrophe that paralyzed the empire, and scattered panic broadcast through the land. The story of this week of disaster is too well known to need repetition in these pages. history is full of it, and full, too, of our last despairing cry to Germany on whose alliance the nation had reckoned so vainly. End of Chapter 9 of Blake of the Rattlesnake.

This is Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visitlibovox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpserville, Smyth. South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 9. How We Escape Whether we should find our colliers at all was a good deal open to question, since by destroying them the enemy could make pretty sure of getting possession of any British warships left in the Baltic. Without the precious black diamonds, ships were only so many useless hulks. As it turned out,

we never met the colliers. The sea was deserted of everything, save a few German men of war, which had been gaining cheap naval knowledge by watching the fighting. I think, sir, said my fellow sub to Blake, I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to run alongside one of these German packets and take his coal from him by force. On the grounds that the end justifies the means, eh, Thorne? No, that won't do it all, for we should either have to stand the brunt of, Lord knows what, for doing it, or else sink the German with all hands so that no one should lay a complaint against us.

And I suppose you'd hardly advocate that, replied the skipper with a grim laugh. Perhaps they give us some on the quiet, in a friendly sort of way, I suggested. You do, do you? said Blake. Well, it's a pity you haven't read the newspapers a bit more. I think that's a North German Lloyd over there in the fog. We'll overhaul her and test your idea of doing things in a friendly sort of way. In a short while we were within hailing distance of the steamer. German, ahoy! called the skipper, then turning to us, what the deuce is the German for coal? Neither of us knew, though Thorne volunteered quite a dictionary of German swear words,

"'Probably he knows English, sir. Try him in that,' said I. "'Ahoi!' came the answering hail from the German. "'Have you any coal to spare? We want coal!' we yelled in unison. "'Yaw! Yeah, yeah!' he replied, but kept on his way, just the same. We hailed him again and again, and after a bit a stout, red-bearded tootin got on the edge of the bridge and made a speech in our direction, but the purport of his words we could not catch. At the risk of collision we got close alongside, so close that her sides towered high above us, and we could hear the sneering personalities of the passengers who had crowded to the side to gaze at us.

Some lumpy German girls on the promenade deck leveled heavy witticisms at our battle-worn uniforms, but there was no reply to our request. Can you spare us any coal? Hailed our skipper again. Nine, nine, the contraband of war. No matter, we must have it. Charge what money you will for it. We must have it.

Nine, mine friend, you English are no longer the sea bully. You are extinguished, and your von Liedel's ship will soon join the others. You will not have the time for to burn it. And then he laughed and said something in German that seemed to mightily amuse the rest of them. The plight we were in was bad enough, but to be taunted with it by a German merchant skipper.

Blake kept his temper outwardly, however, as he replied, "'And suppose we take it from you by force?' For answer the red-bearded one pointed to a German ironclad looming up through the mist, a four-funneled monster that no one could mistake, and then he laughed long and heartily. "'Dammy, have a good mind to blow the fellow out of the water!' growled Blake. The ironclad and steamer had been busy exchanging signals, the former now drew nearer, dipping her flag to us, ironically enough, no doubt. As she did so, and we punctiliously returned the salute,

while our late acquaintance went on her way, the laughter of passengers and crew still ringing over the water. The ironclad seemed disposed to be nasty, and after all it was small wonder. I owned to a sensation something like what I experienced when caught by the farmer in an orchard in my Britannia days, and I think we all felt that way, more or less. Both vessels were lying alongside, blowing off steam. It was no use our trying to run away from right under her guns, the only thing to do was to brazen it out as best we might. The long and the short of it was that she

sent a boat to us, and a very dapper officer, in striking contrast to our shabby, war-worn uniforms, and filthy decks, came on board us. I understand, sir, said he to Blake in excellent English, that you have been trying to take coal from our merchant ship yonder. I sympathize with the downfall of your nation's sea empire? But I do not think that it justifies piracy on the high seas, which, to put it plainly, is what your attempt would have amounted to had you been able to carry it out. "'Look here, sir,' said the skipper, facing him squarely. "'I acknowledge that, but for your arrival we should have taken what we required,

though we should have paid for it. I regret the incident, but it was unavoidable. The issues, depending on our return are so momentous that any course is justifiable. Put yourself in our place. The German made no answer for a while, seemingly turning the matter over in his own mind. Then, rather to our surprise, he said, In your place, Mr. Englishman, I think I should have tried to do the same thing. I regret our inability to help you. For that matter, I regret that our ships are not fighting side

by side with yours. But regrets only are vain. Should you by chance find a couple of our boats loose with coal in them? Well, you know your English proverb about finding being keeping. Should you do so, please return the boats. And then he took his leave. Following in his wake an hour or so later, we sure enough came across a couple of large boats crammed with sacks of coal. These last we got into bunkers, and having neatly folded the sacks, returned them and the boats to the ironclad with many thanks. The Germans' good offices did not end even here, for he held on the same course as ourselves till we were clear of the Baltic, and, keeping close on his offside, we managed to pass unobserved a Russian ship or two that, had they seen us, would doubtless have managed to cut us off

in the Straits. The Baltic Sea Canal had of course been called. close to all belligerent warships. We had precious little coal, however, and were pottering along in the North Sea very slowly, when, by great good fortune, we came across the Elizabeth E. Greenwood, a big American collier flying a French flag, and of her we made a bogus capture. As she was fitted with the temporally transporter, we culled from her then and there, and for a consideration that must of cost Blake no end of money, her skipper, a character named a Sinbad N. Rock, consented to accompany us on our fateful mission. Our cold difficulty being thus over, we went on at 15 knots, which was the utmost the Elizabeth E. Greenwood could manage. And in due course, without meeting either

friend or foe, we arrived at Aberdeen, whence Blake dispatched various letters and telegrams that had to do with the great scheme. Here too we filled up with coal so as to keep our supplies in the Yankee for another day, and this done, we made south until night, when we doubled round, and thence, at easy speed, keeping well out to sea round the north of Scotland, and then southward again till we came by night off the west coat of Arran. Blake's first care on arriving there was to land with half a dozen blue jackets and march across country to Lamlash, which he reached in the early morning before anyone was astir. This little expedition cut the telegraph wires and destroyed the instruments to prevent the possibility of any news of our presence being sent to the mainland by that

means, and Thorne and I then brought the rattlesnake round to Lamash Harbor with the collier in tow. The steamers from Androsan and Glasgow had ceased to run since the early days of the coal strike, and we found the harbor deserted, save for a few fishing boats and a trading sloop. These we scuttled, lest their crews, putting to sea, should reveal our presence, and after that we felt safer. There was some excitement and consternation when the good folk of Lamlash awoke to find us lying in the harbor close in shore. We flew no colors, and were at first taken for foes. Rumors of disaster perturbed even this secluded spot.

Until we had steamed round the island again, and destroyed or captured every boat we could find in creeks or inlets, we let them think what they pleased of us, and by the time we returned found some preparations for defense going on, if the gathering together of a small body of men armed with sporting guns can be so soon. styled. They were glad enough to learn our nationality and readily supplied us with provisions, of which, fortunately, they had no lack, though the prices charged were, as was perhaps natural enough, exorbitant. This business of catering fell mostly to me, and glad I was of an opportunity to stretch my legs on land again. Though I went ashore in plain close I was, as a stranger, quickly noticed. An innumerable were the questions put to me, questions to which I returned as evasive answers as possible.

Even here it was best to be as secret as possible over our plans, and this Blake had impressed upon me again and again before I departed on my mission. It was as well that he had warned me, for the destruction of the telegraph, now universally known, had raised curiosity as to our motives in the minds of the most thoughtless, and do what I would, I was seen. simply besieged with questions. At last, finding that I was taciturn, whenever my back was turned, they set to work to cross-question the Blue Jacket I had brought with me to carry my purchases, and gladly enough I let them do so.

The Blue Jacket, knowing nothing of Blake's scheme, could not accidentally reveal anything, nor was he likely to surmise aught that would not with equal probability occurred to his questioners. My purchase is completed. I was returned. turning along the lengthy village street when a couple of men, evidently tourists, came out from a hotel near the landing place. "'Excuse me, sir,' said one of them, addressing himself to me with a smile, doubtless intended to be ingratiating. "'But I understand you are an officer of the warship in the harbor?'

I told him that I was. "'In that case,' he went on, "'you will perhaps forgive some pardonable curiosity on my part, on the part of both of us in fact. These wild reports of a disaster to our fleet in the Baltic, have they any foundation, in fact? The whole fleet is destroyed, I answered somewhat curtly, I'm afraid, but somehow I did not like the man or his way of asking. Doe it unfortunate. Sorry, I'm sure. Might have been worse, though, he continued in a half-aside to his companion. You're quite sure that no vessels escaped, enough to join where the ships left and win a battle?

He went on to me. As I told you before, the whole fleet is destroyed so far as I know. And to the best of my belief, ours is the only British ship that got out of the Baltic, I replied. And your ship, is she likely to do anything? Question the other. I cannot really say. Time will show. Then, remembering Blake's horror of newspapermen getting hold of any information whatever, I suddenly asked them what papers they represented.

Oh, that's it, is it? The first speaker remarked, with a smile, and fumbling in his pocket, he produced a card, setting forth that he was one green, having something or other to do with the stock exchange. My friend here, he continued, is also a stockbroker, mentioning his name, Mr. Fergus, very well known and respected in the city, I assure you. We're both of you. We're both heavily interested in the war. Heavily interested. It was terribly unfortunate for us to get stranded here so long. No steamers.

Still, we managed fairly well with a telegraph. Now, however, that your captain has seen fit to destroy the wires which were so important to us. I trust that he'll be willing to run us over to Glasgow as a slight recompense. We'll be prepared to pay handsomely for the passage, of course. "'You better come on board and suggest it to him yourself,' said I, smiling inwardly as I thought of the reception such a speech would be likely to meet with from Blake. "'Thanks, I'm sure,' he drawled. "'Well, I fear we detain you.

I'm glad this Baltic news didn't come a few days sooner. Very glad. Good day to you, and thanks again.' "'Good afternoon,' I answered more curtly than ever, and continued my way to the landing stage where the boat awaited me. It took some little while to get all my purchases properly stored, and while this was being seen to, I had leisure to observe my late acquaintances. They were busy bargaining for the use of one of the few small pleasure boats

that Blake had left in the harbor. All the larger boats were hitched up to the groggy Lizar, as our blue jackets term the Yankee Collier. The one who had done most of the talking to me, a red-headed person with small beady eyes close together and an enormous mustache, was endeavoring to overcome the objections of the boatman to venturing near the rattlesnake. So at least I judge from their gesticulations. His companion, a dark, ordinary enough looking man, was taking no part in the conversation, but watching our boat as though speculating whether it would be any use to be any use to be. beg a trip off from me. Having no desire to be bothered with them again, I expedited our departure, and was soon on board ship once more, telling Blake of our probable visitors, but concealing their intended request, as I didn't want to spoil sport. Blake, however, listened to my tale very seriously. Indeed, he made me repeat it, somewhat to my astonishment, as to me the incident

seemed trivial enough. I thought them most splendid examples of your theories as to the patriotism of the average modern Britain, sir, self-first and country afterwards, I said. Unfortunately, it doesn't end there in this case, I'm thinking. We'll have trouble with these fellows if we don't look sharp. Trouble in what way, sir? Many ways. Still, it may be mere fancy on my part. But all the same, I'm glad they are coming on board. If they strike me as at all suspicious, I'll keep them here, though I can't say I feel anxious for the society of these sorts of bounders. What possible harm these fellows could do or why they should wish to do any to us was beyond me.

Still, I didn't argue the point with the skipper. He's been getting devilish fissidy of late, I confided to Thorne, who remarked in return that he'd noticed the same thing, too. It's the disadvantage of not being only a sub, said he, and we thought no more about it. The enterprise upon which we were now embarked was as serious as could well be, and looking back at it now after the lapse of years,

I wonder at the easy devil-may-care sort of way in which Thorn and I took things all through. We were very young, both of us, and to the young nothing is serious, and that I suppose is the real reason why we never troubled over the probable fact, if indeed it occurred to us, that our friends and relations would, by this, had given us up as dead, for Blake had refused to allow us to post any letters during our call at Aberdeen, and the last they had heard of us would be our trip on convoy duty to the Baltic. As matter of fact, the news of the rattlesnakes' arrival at Aberdeen,

had been communicated to the papers. We couldn't keep that visit secret. Fortunately for Blake, unfortunately for our friends, the papers a day or two later contained a brief report of how, putting south from the Scotch port, the rattlesnake had been attacked and sunk by French cruisers, all on board being lost. This, however, I did not hear of till long afterwards. I thought when I heard it, and still think that Blake himself was in some way responsible for this report getting afloat, though in what fashion he managed it, I cannot surmise. End of Chapter 10 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Librevox recording.

All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visitlibrovox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville. South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 10, our base of operations. Some two hours after my conversation with Blake, I noted a small shoreboat making for us, and an inspection through glasses soon revealed to me the forms of my stock-broking friends. I hastily informed the skipper, and he came on deck in time to be there when they came alongside. side. We wish to see the captain, the red-headed one cried as soon as they were within hail.

I am the captain, replied Blake politely. What can I do for you? Oh, we'll get on the ship and tell you presently. The remark was offhand enough and doubtless due to their noticing Blake's war-worn uniform. We were certainly all of us a disreputable lot to look at. War service and a destroyer is bad for close. The skipper allowed them to come on board and down into the wardroom, where they sat down and soon made themselves at home. My name is Green, said the red-headed one, patronizingly, as I thought. And my friend here is called Fergus, a very well-known man of the city. Very well-known. Indeed, I may say we are both men of substance there, commanding as we do, a large amount of capital. My name is Blake, and my friend here is called Bovary, replied the skipper. I believe he was half inclined to add, very well known on board the rattlesnake, but checked himself. Blake, remarked Mr. Fergus, I seemed to know the name.

Had a clerk of that name once, very smart fellow. Any relation? I'm afraid I haven't the honor, Blake answered with a slight cough. Well, what do you want of me? My time just now is rather occupied, so if you will kindly state your business, it will be a convenience. He continued. Ah, yes, said Green, just so. Well, the fact of the matter is that my friend Mr. Fergus and myself are much incommoded by the fashion in which you have destroyed the telegraph here, which, you know, is public property. However, we are willing to believe that you did it with some reason that may explain it satisfactorily, quite satisfactorily. So if you can see your way to just running us over to Glasgow or Arderson at your earliest convenience,

well, we will promise that you will get into no trouble over it on our account. Well, if you want to go over to Glasgow, why don't you go? Ask the skipper, with an assumption of innocence that amuse me mightily. Go? Why? Because we can't. That's why. "'You appeared to have stolen, but, I mean, all the boats in the place, which was a clever move. "'Very clever, and I'm sure we admire it.

"'However, you can name your own terms, you know.' "'I expected to see Blake turn purple with rage, but he controlled himself well. "'I don't quite follow you,' he said. "'But I'm afraid it will be quite three weeks before you can leave Aaron.' "'You may as well out with it. green, put in Mr. Fergus. The fact is, Mr. Blake, you're one too many for us. However, you've got your exclusive information and have, of course, sold accordingly air this, but it's a little hard that you should keep us from it, too. It doesn't make any odds to you, you know. Not the

slightest, was the reply. However, I'm quite sure that you won't be able to leave Lamlash for quite three weeks or more. Moreover, any attempt to leave the island would result in your getting shot. Good day. You're an unprincipled scoundrel, that's what you are, cried Green, completely losing his temper. And by heaven I'll be even with you yet. The country hasn't got to quite such a state that a man can steal boats, destroy government property, and threaten murder, actually murder with impunity. This from a public servant, who runs away from his fleet in order to rig the money market. Huh! They may well say the country is going to the devil. They may. But here, Fergus, who seemed the more level-headed of the two, interrupted him. Don't be a fool, Green. You'll be getting

chucked overboard or something of that sort if you don't take care. He added in a half aside. Blake and I burst out laughing. We really couldn't help. but I'm not sure that they wouldn't have preferred us to be indignant. But the whole thing was such an absurd farce. It was impossible to get angry about it or treat it seriously. Bitting us a stiff good day, they went off, and we saw no more of them for a while. Dash those idiots, said Blake when his merriment had subsided. It's all very well to laugh at them, as we've got them boxed up in the island.

But all the same, they'd smash up all our plans for the sake of their infernal stocks and shares if they got but half a chance. However, since they can't, let them sit and curse us all day long, if it pleases them. The next day, the third after our arrival, smoke was visible on the horizon beyond King's Cross, and by and by the Niger, with two torpedo boats in tow, came into harbor. In the course of the next day or so, we were joined by several more catchers, destroyers, and torpedo boats, all of which had deserted as soon as practicable after the receipt of Blake's telegrams, and one of the destroyers, the Hornet, brought a welcome addition in the shape of the collier lily, which had been her duty to escort somewhere or other.

The indignation of Captain Higgs of the lily had at first been intense, But later, on learning what was in the wind, he had come too, like the patriotic Britain that he was, and refused to take any compensation for the great inconvenience Blake's plan compelled him to undergo. Although we were safe at Lamlash, so far as news of our whereabouts being carried thence was concerned, we were daily exposed to the danger of discovery by a hostile cruiser, or even by an English one not in the secret. To minimize this danger, our ships were disguised as much as possible, and anchored in very irregular fashion. But our skipper, or Commodore, as I should now call him, was anxious to mine the entrances to the harbor, which would guard us safely from any foe, and better still, enable us to save coal by drawing fires.

Hitherto we had lain with steam up, and there seemed little prospect of our being able to discontinue it, for we needed the explosive in our torpedoes for its own work, and such gunpowder as we were able to collect ashore was totally insufficient for our purposes. We got what protection we could by putting our torpedo boats at the entrances, but there was always the risk that a cruiser, seeing them, would either be able to sink them before they could get within striking distance or else turn tail and be off to get her friends the moment she spotted them.

and the enemy were well able to bring up enough ships to shut us in altogether had they wished to. Altogether we were at our wits' end, and then it was that Captain Higgs proved himself of inestimable service. Running over in his collier to Glasgow, where he was well known, he managed somehow to obtain a quantity of dynamite and blasting powder, as well as a few other things we needed. returning by a roundabout course so as to avoid suspicion, he brought the news that the city was in a panic. Business was practically suspended. Visits from enemy's cruisers were hourly expected. He also brought us newspapers, wherefrom we learned how a French Army Corps had landed on the south coast,

and taking Portsmouth in the rear, transformed it into a naval and military base for further operations, and all the other events that I need not recapitulate here. Captain Higgs did us another service, too, by giving out to the Glasgow folk, that a French cruiser had been at Lamlash and bombarded the place. This explained the destruction of telegraphic communication and prevented any attempt to repair it, for fear the enemy was still lying there.

The dynamite was gladly welcomed by Blake, and soon we had electrically fitted minds at both ends of Holy Island, worked from a camera obscura, situated on the top of the hill, and after this we felt safer. We were none too soon with our minds, for ere we had everything complete,

a French cruiser, making in the direction of Glasgow, headed for our harbor. Training our guns and torpedo tubes in her direction, we waited breathlessly for results. She seemed in no hurry, whatever she was at, and after steaming to within a few yards of our outermost mines withdrew again.

Had anything suspicious been noted, and was she going off to alarm her consorts? After a weight that seemed to last for hours, but cannot really have been very long, back she came again, steaming slowly and cautiously. Lieutenant Orchardston, who had charge of the minefield, eagerly watching the plate of our extemporary camera obscura, saw the pictured warship pass phantom-like over one of the circles marked thereon to indicate the radius of destruction, and as she did so, he pressed a button. A huge column of water enveloped the enemy.

With it came a wave that rolled all our vessels till the sea broke over their decks, and when we looked again, there was nothing but troubled water left where the cruiser had been. The dasher, which alone of us had steam up, went out to the spot, but no survivors were found. The annihilation of the enemy had been as complete as it had been instantaneous. End of chapter. Chapter 11 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Liebervox recording. All Liebervox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visitlibovox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 11, a picnic and what came of it. For the next few days I was very busy, acting as a sort of representative for Blake, and queer enough were some of the jobs on which I was engaged. For two whole days I was collecting clocks, out of which Blake and the other skippers constructed some extraordinary infernal machines destined for several dummy torpedo boats

that Blake had invented and set great store by. The idea was to make the dummies explode if rammed by any craft. These dummies were made in a very simple fashion. A couple of shore boats covered all over with tarpaulin were set some 50 feet apart and a light tree trunk lashed four and air. aft between them, and to this was attached a framework bearing a rough general resemblance to the hull of a 90-foot-long torpedo boat. In the water the thing floated top-side down,

the boats forming imitation conning towers, while a little canvas well-tared and stiffened with iron rods and hoops made a very presentable funnel and other decurrections. Some planks amid ships made a good resting place for the explosive that was destined to be packed there if we could get it. And regarded from a little distance, especially at night, the craft looked very like a small, genuine torpedo boat. We constructed seven of these dummies altogether, stowing them on board the colliers as soon as completed. It was while this task was going on that I happened to get on the sick list. There was nothing particular the matter with me, so said the doctor from the speedy. A good tramp ashore on the hills would probably put me right, but I felt all together

run down. All you subs want is a good run ashore, he said, to keep your livers from getting sluggish. Blake, hearing of the Medico's verdict, fell in with the idea at once. I'll send a lot of you, I think, you're only in the way on board ship. You'd better fix up a picnic or something of that sort on the hills. Hence it came about that. The next day, eight or nine of us, accompanied by a cart loaded with hampers of good things, toiled up the steep winding road, past the golf links, and across the moorland beyond. Here, looking down upon our ships and harbor reduced to the size of cockleshells, We drank in the pure mountain air and gazed away over Holy Island to the distant Scotch coast. Here, too, we emptied the cart and picnicked in right royal fashion.

It was a glorious relaxation after being cooped up on board ship for so long. It was a pleasure in itself to lie amidst the sweet-smelling heather and golden gorse and feel that we lived. By and by, we split up into smaller parties, some going along the road to be. Brodick, others remaining where they were, no longer anxious for fresh exertion. Thorne had gone on to Brodick with another sub and an engineer from the Speedy, a very decent sort, and by and by I wished I had gone too. I could still see them, little specks in the distance, when I started to follow. But it was one thing to see them, another to be able to attract their attention, and get them to wait while I caught them up. Gradually they disappeared.

appeared, going down the dip of a hill, and I had begun to despair of catching them when I remembered a shortcut through a wood which I had learned some two or three years before when we had been at lamelash for the maneuvers. It was contrary to Blake's orders to leave the main road. He had made a chart of the exact course we were to follow, so that in the event of any ship being sighted from the hill, the cart could come along the road and fetch us back. But the temptation was too strong for my weary legs, and soon I was breast high in the break fern on my way to the little wood. Here the beauty of the scene, tinted with the glories of autumn, was too much for me, and I sat down to rest a while, and dreamed by the side of a little stream that babbled through the

fern-grown rocks with a soft lulling murmur like the music of angels. I sat and mused, and presently I must have fallen asleep. You've put the wire in cipher, of course. The voice awoke me with a start, and little wonder, for it was the voice of Mr. Fergus, well known in the city. Of course, replied another voice, Greens, and I reckon we ought to make a mighty pile out of this. Yes, if nothing goes wrong.

You're sure you've got everything prepared, I hope? Everything. Photos of the fleet, as I think. took them the other day. Positive proof, quite positive. Names of principal officers and everything enough to convince the most hopeless skeptic. But bless you, the report alone will send them up like one o'clock. I dared not move as I had it first intended. Chance said made me over here what seemed to be a deliberate plan to wreck Blake's scheme for the salvation of England, and I was determined to hear the last of it, so as to know how to set to work to circumvent them.

Well, continued Green, after a pause, What arrangements have you made? Have you seen the girl? Seen her? I've done nothing but see her for the last two days till I'm sick to death of her. Promises of money didn't seem enough to work the oracle, so I promised to marry her. As well promise an L as an inch, you know, he added laughing. "'Yes. Well, it's a good thing you picked her up. I'd made sure that that infernal outside broker of a ship's captain had collared every boat in the island. It's pleasant to find that he's not so smart as he reckons himself.' "'He did collar all that were afloat, but he didn't chance to find old Davy's Boathouse, thank the fates. Well, the girl ought to be here by this. Tisn't her rule to keep her prospective husband waiting. "'Ah, here she comes.'

"'From my hiding-place in the ferns, "'I caught a glimpse of a yellow-haired, freckled glass "'hastening down the path I had recently come by. "'Well, my dear,' said Fergus, "'here you are. "'You know my friend Mr. Green, so don't mind him. "'Now you must give this to old Davy yourself, mind, "'and tell no one, not tell a soul.

"'It's for some nice dresses and pretty things, things for you to be married in, so if it doesn't go over at once, without the ships in harbor knowing of it mine, for they'd try and steal it. If it doesn't go over tonight, we shan't be able to be married at all, and I shall go away and never see you again. And you mustn't let even old Davy know who it's from. Now give me a kiss, my dear, and hurry off. The girl promised readily enough, gave the desired salute, and went along the path in the direction of Brotik. "'I guess we'd better be moving on, too,' said Green. "'Poor little girl,' he added, with a momentary twinge of remorse.

Seems a pity to deceive her so, too, but—' "'can't be helped,' said the other shortly. "'If our gallant pirate in the harbor catches old Davy, as there is a risk, of course, well, he'll never associate us with the affair. Huh. I'm not so sure of that. However, if it does fall through, we've still another chance, whereas going ourselves we should risk everything in one deal. I had scarcely patience to wait until they were out of earshot. Then I jumped up and ran as hard as I could towards Brodick, catching sight of the girl before she had reached the village. As I ran, I had had had

dim visions of snatching the telegram out of her hand. But a little thought convinced me that she would, ere this, have secreted it about her person, so any attempt to obtain possession of it by force would have its awkward side. Fortune favored me again, as it chanced. Air the girl had reached the village, and while I was yet hesitating as to what course to pursue, a young fisherman sprang out of the hedge and confronted her. The girl screamed, and hid her face in her hands, while I, feeling that I was doomed to go through life playing the eavesdropper, hastily got inside a field. Give me that letter! angrily cried the man in the Scotch dialect that I shall not attempt to

reproduce here. I've got no letter, let me pass, she answered. That's a lie, a wicked, sinful lie, for which you will go to hell and burn. I saw him give it to you myself. there, he retorted in a passion of jealous rage. The girl's hand involuntarily went to her bosom, and in a moment his rough fingers had torn open her dress and seized the faithful telegram. Thrusting the weeping girl from him, he held it aloft and laughed. So, he shouted, you would be having letters from your new sweetheart,

and forget all about your old one! He tore the missive into fragments, turned on heel and ran away down the hill, leaving the girl crying bitterly by the roadside. Overjoyed at the turn of events I hastened on to Brodick. I felt sorry for the girl, and sorry too for her native lover, and impelled by some inner force, felt it my duty to try and mend matters. I stopped as I reached her, and sought to explain that she was being made a fool of, but woman-like, she would have none of it, and finally giving it up as a bad job, I went all my way. In the village, just outside the hotel, I met the fisherman. He at least could be made useful to us. Briefly as possible, I sought to explain to him how the land lay, and though the projected money

transactions were beyond him, he understood enough to know that treachery was afoot. Finally, I impressed upon him the advisability of watching Green and Fergus, telling him that if he only let Captain Blake know where to lay hands on them, they would trouble him and his no more. This done, and feeling that I had secured a valuable ally, I went on into the hotel, where Thorn and the others still were. Telling them of what I had overheard, we hurriedly retraced our steps, and reaching the cart an hour later, galloped down the hill towards the harbor for all we were worth. Reaching the rattle, I told Blake of my adventure. He was thunderstruck at the news, but cast about it once for means how to act. It never occurred to you, I suppose, to find out who was, old Davy, and where he lived?

No, I answered, startled. Pah, my word, I was full enough never to think of it. Still, Brodick, I suppose. "'If it is Brodick, we may be in time, otherwise we may be too late.' He hastily gave orders for the Rado to weigh at once, signaling his news and intentions to the other captains, and in a very short time we were steaming out of the northern entrance, and round to Brodick as hard as we could pelt. "'You see,' explained Blake,

"'they have heard all about it from the girl ere this, and for aught I know they will have started themselves, knowing what any further delay might probably mean. At Brotik, we got as close inshore as possible. Then, our boat being lowered, Blake was rowed towards the land. As the boat was speeding thither, a man hailed us repeatedly from the pier. "'Tisn't here!' he cried to Blake. "'They've gone in old Davy's launch some time ago.' "'Which way?' "'I don't know, sir, which way, but they went. some two or three hours since.

Back as hard as you can row. I heard Blake order, and I got ready to be off the moment he should come on board. Here's a pretty kettle of fish. He muttered as we raced out of the bay at a good twenty-five knots. I'd just think that if you hadn't disobeyed orders, we'd never have known of it at all. Well, as tis, all our plans are as good as wrecked, unless we catch these fellows. It serves me right, too. I should have been more careful and left nothing to chance. It was now dark, but the moon lit up a fair expanse of water, so that a boat would be visible at some distance.

Lookouts crowded the ship. We had to look for hostile vessels as well as for our special quarry. Neither off Glasgow nor Arderson could we come across anything like old Davy's boat, so we tried working more to the northward, though, hope was getting faint. Small boat on the starboard bow, reported a lookout man, and we nearly shouted with joy as her eyes fell on a small sailing boat close in shore some three miles ahead. In another five minutes we were ripe upon her, so fast were we steaming. But even that five minutes made us nearly too late.

While we were yet a hundred yards away, not daring to approach nearer for fear of grounding, the boat ran upon the beach, and the two stockbrokers sprang out of her. Give me a rifle, ordered Blake sharply. Smart. In an instant, a loaded rifle was in his hands. Stop, you hounds! he cried to Green and Fergus. Between them and the comparative safety of a little wood, there was some 50 feet of moonlit beach, a beach with rocks here and there, behind which a man might find plenty of cover. My God! cried Green.

Would you murder us in cold blood? If you move, I shoot, Blake replied. Go back to your boat at once if you wish to save your lives. This, however, they either could not or would not do. Take the gig and fetch them, Bovary. Blick called to me. I hastened to obey, and soon the boat ran upon the beach alongside the other, and followed by the men I ran towards the stockbrokers.

They were quite close to me now, and I could see the perspiration streaming down their faces as they watched our approach. Then as we drew yet nearer, Fergus said to his companion, It's now or never, cut! And with the same they started to run like hairs for the wood. After them! I cried, but at the same instant I heard the report of a rifle, and Fergus, with a shriek, sprang into the air to fall back dead. Green fell too, not hit, but groveling in terror.

"'Heaven, have mercy!' he moaned. "'They're murdering us, murdering us! "'And it would have been a million pounds! "'A million pounds!' "'We soon secured the frightened wretch, "'and with no very gentle hands dragged him back to the whaler. "'Tow off the other boat!' hailed Blake, "'and sharp as you can!'

"'The two men in the boat, "'one of whom we presumed was old Davy, "'sat there quite still and motionless, dumbfounded at the turn of events. Doubtless they expected to be shot like Fergus, but they were too terrified to make any attempt at escape. Green, lying bound in the bottom of the whaler, kept up his incessant wail. Murdered for a million pounds, a million pounds! Nor could my angry orders quiet him. What are you going to do with him now, sir? I asked Blake, when we had got on board again, scuttling old Davy's boat as soon as we were in deeper water.

I don't know. Hangings about the handiest thing, replied the skipper grimly. It's about the best thing we can do for the country, too. It seems very horrible, sir. Well, I'm not going to do it now, anyway. He shall be tried properly first. We've got to see to getting back next. As for old Davy, that silly old fool won't trouble us again. Send him forward with the other fishermen. Old Davy went forward, and a miserable time he had of it at the hands of the blue jackets, who related to him horrible deaths by torture which he would shortly undergo. Green still secured was left on deck, keeping up his incessant moaning over the lost million, but we had other things to see to than bother about him just then. End of chapter.

Chapter 12 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Liebervox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 12, More Troubles We managed to slip back into harbor without siding anything hostile,

but the signal that met us as, in the growing dawn, we steamed to our billet, told us that we had returned none too soon. Large-armed steamer flying British mercantile and blue ensigns making for harbor, Hornet gone to reconnoiter, came a semaphore from the speedy. Confound it all! Everything seems conspiring against us, exclaimed Blake. Ten to one some cruisers are after him. We presently made out the British steamer, a large four-masted packet, and a stern of her were three cruisers and some torpedo boats,

all in hot pursuit and firing as they came. The plan of the British captain was evident. He hoped to entice the enemy into the strange harbor, where, likely enough, they would run aground, while he could escape at the northern outlet, the one by which we had just returned. Willie-nilly, therefore, we were in for a fight, and it was of the last importance that none of the enemy should escape. How to capture or destroy the lot of them was, however, a problem beyond me.

It was not likely that all would enter the harbor, and the destruction of a vessel inside would be the signal for the others to make off. I quite gave it up as hopeless, but Blake seemed confident enough, and gradually I was reassured. The merchantman was nearer now, almost over our minefield, and the enemy, seeking to wing, rather than destroy her, fired continually. One of the cruisers and the two torpedo boats went round to the northern entrance, with a view of shutting her in. So we assumed, as they disappeared behind Holy Island, all this time we had lain with steam up, but making no move. The Hornet, which had been recalled, lying quietly insure by the island, the rest of us and our usual billets. After a while, Blake made a signal, whereupon the ferret and dasher, with the torpedo boats,

moved gently away toward the northern entrance, and disappeared round the corner to fall on the enemy in that direction. Suddenly the oncoming merchantman stopped, a shell-ed hitter square in the engines, and she lay helpless directly over our minefield. Like a flash, one of the cruisers was alongside her, and a rattle of musketry told us that they were going to carry her by boarding. This was an unexpected event, as the mine could not now be exploded without destroying the English ship, so we were rather in a whole what to do. But Blake was not the man to overlook possibilities, and he allowed for this one. The speedy and horse were. Hornet opened fire on the French, who were evidently considerably startled, they had hitherto

taken us for trading craft, apparently. And at the same moment there came the sound of rapid firing, where our torpedo boats were engaged to the northward. One good broadside from either of the French cruisers would have sunk any of our vessels, but we did not stay to receive it. We made rapidly for the northern outlet, and so drew one of them boldly after us. This vessel, the one that had gone alongside the prize, had sent most of her boats to tow that craft out to sea, a proceeding for which we were exceedingly thankful, since it left our mine field free and open.

Cruiser No. 2, however, seemed to dart off towards her other consort, with a view, as we then supposed, of falling upon us as we emerged from the shelter of Holy Island. As we came round the island, whence the sound of firing still proceeded, we found a battle royal in progress. The third cruiser was firing broadside after broadside at our flotilla of torpedo boats,

which were coming on her from all sides, while some distance away the dasher was chasing one of the French torpedo boats. Neither the ferret nor the other torpedo boat were to be seen. As we learnt later, our destroyer had been literally blown out of the water while sinking the other boat under the lee of the hostile cruiser. Our six torpedo boats made short work of their quarry, though two of them were sunk in the struggle. We did not stay to watch this, however, a matter of far greater moment attracted our attention, for, already getting small on the horizon, was the cruiser that had remained outside.

It was imperative to capture her at all hazards, and we and the Hornet cracked on every ounce of steam we could manage. A stern chase, however, is ever a long one, and though her timidity at venturing down the Irish Channel led her to seek the sea-room of the Atlantic, we still feared that the French vessel might find friends before we could overhaul her. And overhauled in all, it struck me that we'd have a pretty hard job to tackle her. We estimated the speed of the runaway at something like nineteen knots. Our own maximum, regulated by that of the Hornet, was 25. We were therefore, theoretically at any rate, in a position to catch her up in well under two hours, allowing for the start she had obtained. Actually, however, our speed was soon much reduced by the ocean rollers, and at the end of three hours we had just got level with her. As near as I can guess, we were then some five miles away on her port quarter, the Hornet being in the same position to Starboard. It took us a good while to forge much ahead of her, but this, however, was not particularly necessary. It's no good attacking till night, said Blake.

We should only be blown out of the water for our pains. The day wore on. By the cherub, we were now 210 miles from Limeleash, when the Hornet signaled a strange sail on the starboard bow. Blake ordered us to man an armed ship, and signaled. the same to the Hornet. If the newcomer were a hostile warship, as indeed seemed only too probable, we would have to risk it and do our best to sink the Frenchman before he could join his friend. Carefully we examined the strange vessel whose course lay across our own, and at the speed we were going, she was soon pretty visible through our binoculars.

"'By all that's wonderful, sir!' I cried to Blake. "'She's one of our first-class cruisers, flying the white ensign all right, too. Well, he returned, we must get in first shot, so as to have chief claim to the prize. If this cruiser gets hold of her, she'll find out everything. And so far as we are concerned, the Frenchman might then just as well have escaped, for the cat will be out of the back. He edged the rato in nearer, and we began to blaze away with our twelve-pounder, doing no particular damage, I expect,

the range was a very long one, though it is doubtful whether we should have done much more harm at close quarters. The twelve-pounder is not designed to attack armored cruisers with. The enemy, she was the chasseau-loup-la-ba, fired back at us, but fortunately we escaped with little injury, our small size being a great protection to us. Still, their aim was very good for all that, and they would have soon have settled our hash could they have got us within range of their Hachkiss guns. We had a pretty uncomfortable time of it as it was, and I, for one, was heartily thankful when we steamed back again to our former position. It was rather a puzzle to us why the Chasse-Loup-Lobba did not turn as soon as she knew that the coming vessel was English.

But we fancied her skipper was sick of running away, and hoped that by trying conclusions with our cruiser, he would manage to sink his pertinacious followers. by enticing them within range during the heat of the action. Otherwise, as he must have well known, it was merely a matter of waiting for night. So soon as the night should come, he would be torpedoed by one of us to a certainty. The British warship was now steaming as hard as she knew how,

and in a very short time the cruisers were exchanging shots. We had made our numbers to our friend as soon as she was well in view, but she did not reply for some little while, and when she did, we were not very easily able to distinguish the signal. Union M something, sir, reported the signalman. I can't make out the last flag. Must be the crescent, sir. He continued after a pause, during which he had consoled the signal book. The crescent was at that time flagship on the North American station. So what she was doing off the coast of Ireland was beyond us. Still, there she was, and fighting in fine style, too.

She had signalled to us to keep out of the way, and Blake obeyed readily enough. "'It's a rum-hole we're in altogether, Bovary,' he remarked to me as we stood on the turtleback, watching the fight. "'If we've been left to manage the Frenchman as best we could, well, there we'd have been. and if I lost the number of my mess in sinking her, our chums at Lamlash would still carry on. Now we are in a fix all the way round. If the Crescent wins, there'll be some pretty stiff diplomacy required to get hold of the prisoners, and keep the victors from finding out about the Lamlech flotilla, both from the French and from us. And if the Crapot comes off victorious, there'll be some extra trouble that way. Really, it looks as though the only salutes.

of the problem would be for these two ships to blow each other to pieces, so our predicament isn't a pleasant one at all. The two warships seemed to be well on their way to the mutual destruction spoken of by Blake, but the vastly superior armament of the crescent told more and more against our chase. The Frenchmen maneuvered beautifully, seeking and indeed obtaining all the advantages of his superior end-on-fire, But though every now and again he could bring five guns to bear against the Crescent's four, these moments of superiority rapidly passed, and a broadside of seven QF guns poured shells into him at the rate of 40 a minute. In 20 minutes, all was over, and the battered wreck of the chasseau-louple-baix became an English prize.

There goes a plucky Frenchman, if ever there was one, said Blake as we watch the tricolor hauled down. A plucky fellow, for all his mysterious running away at Lamblash. And now our troubles begin. Well, we must take the bull by the horns and try what bounce will do. He semaphored to the crescent a message of thanks for having rendered assistance to him in the matter of capturing the Frenchman, and wound up by saying that another Frenchman, a first-class cruiser, had slipped on a head and escaped him. I should like to see the Admiral's face when he gets the message, laughed Blake. However, it's our only chance.

The arms of our semaphore had scarcely come to rest when the skipper started another to the effect that he would send a prize crew on board the Frenchman, and that he couldn't think of occupying the Admiral's time or troubling him any more in the matter. For answer came a request for Blake to come on board the Admiral. The Hornet, I should have mentioned, had got alongside the Chasse-Loup-Loba, almost immediately after she struck, long before the only boat that the Crescent seemed able to send, could reach her. And as afterwards transpired, Garan, the Hornet Skipper, had hastily divided her crew into two portions, those who knew whereabouts they had found us, and those who did not,

with a view of sending the ignorant ones on board the Crescent first. The Crescent's boat was, however, recalled ere she reached the prize, so the precaution turned out to be unnecessary. Blake was back again in ten minutes with a radiant face. It's all right, he cried as he climbed on deck. I've fixed it up, so let's hurry to work before he changes his mind. Take the gig, Bovary, and hang on to the cruiser till I send you other orders. You can get on board, of course, and towed the boat astern. The Hornet is to take the Frenchman into Londonderry with what's left of her crew,

and then join the flag at a rendezvous. The Ratto has to cruise with the flag for a day or two, or till the war ends. I forget which, but no matter. Then seeing how aghast I looked, he added, laughing. Well, never mind now. I'll tell you all about it in Lamblash Harbor tomorrow. Hurry up at present, and be sure and keep a sharp eye on the prison. A few minutes later saw me boarding the prize, and a terrible sight it was that met my curious gaze. I had seen a fair share of service during the war. I had taken part in more than one fight,

but all my battles had to do with torpedoes, or at the most small shell. Here I saw before me the awful and devastating effect of nine-inch projectiles, and a sickening sight it was. Decks were torn and riven asunder. Guns hurled from their mountings had sunk through the deck, breaking all before them. Dead and wounded men were here, there, and everywhere. Blood and brains of men were splashed all over. The whole ship was but one vast charnel house, and the marvel to me was, not that she had held out for twenty minutes, but that anyone had survived twenty seconds, for she was riddled like a sieve where the quick-firing guns had hit her. Only one executive, a sub of about my own age,

was left standing, and very, very few of the crew were still alive. What damage the Chasseau-Lubloba had inflicted on the crescent I did not see? I understood later, however, from Blake, that things were pretty bad there. Curiously enough, little damage was done to the engines of either of the combatants, and soon we and the prize steamed away eastward again, though at about half the speed the ship had made when steering to the west. Smaller and smaller grew the great hall of the crescent, as with the little rado following in her wake,

she continued her cruise towards the setting sun, and for the first time during the war I was embarked on a duty in which Blake had no part. But if Blake himself was not there in person, he was at least watching over us in spirit, for Garen of the Hornet was his most able lieutenant. Looking back at it all now, I realize, in a way that did not strike me then, the tremendous genius of Blake, and the skill with which he invariably thought out every possible emergency. I am perfectly certain in my own mind that he had at Lamash arranged every detail of what was to be done

in the case of an event like that in which we had just taken part. It was not so obvious to me then, however, and I spent some anxious hours in the darkness as I paced the bridge of the Chasseau-loubla, now dreading that the prisoners would attempt to mutiny, now with a sickening fear that I should never see Blake again. I was aroused from my half-dreams by a signal from the Hornet, lie by and send a boatload of prisoners on board me.

I did, as was ordered, sending some seven wounded men who had been attended to by this time by the French doctors. A second boat full of prisoners was now sent, unwounded men this time. The boat was just returning when I heard a lookout, and the hornets sing out, Destroyer coming up astern, full speed, signaling green over red. I looked aft. in the darkness a dim white wave advancing, heard the throb of engines going at full power.

Then, like a flash, a well-known hull shot past me. It was the rattlesnake, come back. End of chapter. Chapter 13 of Blake of the rattlesnake. This is a Liebervox recording. All Liebervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 13, Blake's Revolt. In a few minutes, Blake had come aboard the prize, and I welcomed him like one risen from the dead.

There was no time then to hear how he had rejoined us so quickly. The transfer of prisoners to the Rado and Hornet occupied. occupied our undivided attention. In a short while we had removed the Crescent's boats' crew and the fifty men who alone remained alive of the brave French ships' company. Then, taking out her torpedoes for our own future use, we abandoned the vessel. The Hornet fired a torpedo at her, she began to settle down, and thus ended the career of the Chasse-Loup Lebaugh.

We were again out of the wood, steaming back to Lamblash with Lightheart, and so soon as we were well on our way, I asked Blake what had happened since our meeting with the crescent, and how he had got rid of her. Oh, he said, laughing, I've been taking a leaf out of the book of the diplomatic service. You see, old stick in the mud, bless him, took our claim to the Frenchman as genuinely meant on our part, and whatever he may have thought congratulated me on our enterprise. When we met him, him, the old boy had just captured a privateer of sorts, and sent her off again with a prize crew. So he was choked full of prisoners as twas, without the Chasse-Luplobots people. I told him we could

manage all right, and would take her into Londonderry without troubling him, so he might as well recall the boat's crew he'd sent on board. All of this he fell in with, and then began asking about the war and so on. I told him the late. which, to my astonishment, I found he was an entire ignorance of, though I should have known that, the cables being cut, he had no means of hearing so soon. When he got over his first surprise, he asked where we came from, and what we were doing. So I had to pitch it a bit. I told him, in fact, that we were lying at Bantry with the Hornet, making little excursions from thence every now and again. He, on his part, told me that, having dished up all the French in his part

of the world, he had to hunt farther afield. Now he would steam back to Halifax as hard as possible, collect his ships, and return to the channel, and we two destroyers would be a handy addition. So it was all fixed up that he and I were to cruise around while the Hornet took the prize into harbor, and Garen rejoining us at an appointed rendezvous, we were all to make for North America. "'Very good, sir,' said I, and as soon as it got dark, I dropped a bit of stern of station, turned round sharp, and came along to here, as I'd arranged with Garen, at thirty knots. I don't know whether the old boy is looking for the rattle or no, but we can't bring him to Lamlash to court-martial us all, we've sinned too deeply to draw back now, if we wish to even.

Our special job will be over ere he gets across again, and we will join him then with pleasure. Well, sir, there's one consolation anyhow, I rejoined. The Admiralty having been superseded by a parliamentary self-elected board, this precious concern has no more right to control us than our friend Green. And talking of Green, what's because? come of him, sir. I believe I was supposed to keep an eye on him, but I can't remember seeing him since we left Landlash. Oh, Green's all right. I came across him on deck after the Frenchman struck, about his own color from fright and sea-sickness, poor devil. I stowed him down below, lest some of the

crescents should see him, and wonder what the dickens we were at with a trist-up civilian on deck. I had him shoveled into the wardrobe. Now he's gone forward, as I don't fancy our plucky French prisoner seeing this sample of an Englishman. Elsa Craig at length loomed up in the morning sunlight, and soon we were lying beside our chums in the old harbor at Lamlash. We learned that the Frenchman, who penetrated the harbor, have been sunk by our minds while trying to come out to the rescue of the others.

So all danger in this direction, was passed. As for the merchantman, she had been towed well into harbor during our absence, and her engines were now being repaired by her own people, who had made no demure at having to cast in their lot with the Aronites, as we called ourselves. Our new companion turned out to be the Eltta, a merchantman armed in men by naval reserve fellows, and at the time of her adventure, she was running the blockade that the enemy had already partially established round the greater part of the coast. The cruiser we destroyed shortly after our arrival, and our late visitors belonged, I believe, to the blockading fleet, which must have become rather thin in our direction.

Blake rather feared more coming to look for these missing ones, but the losses were put down to the crescent, which thus did us a good turn unconsciously, and they, They were all busy looking for her. The French sub remained with us on parole for some days after his men and Green had been transferred to the Elizabeth E. Greenwood and the E.L.L.a. He was a decent sort, and as he could speak English fairly well, I got quite chummy with him. My French wouldn't go much beyond remarks on the weather. From him I learned that the skipper of the Chasseau-Loup Lobé had guessed what our presence that Lamlash meant, and so started to warn his friends at all hazards.

Why did you attack the crescent then? I asked. Voila, he replied. What would you? When we found the two English dragonflies would not let us be, we knew that all was up, said our captain, it shall be the bigger ship that shall destroy us, and so it was. We had no hope, only to fight and die as brave men. His eyes filled with tears, as he said this, and not quite knowing what to do, I shook hands with him several times as a mark of sympathy and esteem. "'And now,' he went on, "'I wish it had been your captain to whom we had struck, for he is a great man, a modern Nelson, and he will destroy all my poor compatriots yet.' I felt that he spoke the truth, and that if man could accomplish it, Blake, of all men was the most fitted for the task. But this being an awkward sort of thing to tell him,

I held my peace and changed the subject. Our preparations were now going steadily onwards. The damages sustained in the late action were being rapidly repaired, and in a few days more we should be ready to start. I say, Bovary, Blake said one night a week or so later, "'You like adventures, so you can come on a spying out the land trip with me, if you like. "'I'm often the groggy Lizar tomorrow as a Yankee skipper, "'and you can come, too, if you care to.' "'I readily assented. I was already sick to death of lamlash, "'it's forced inactivity, and the utter dearth of news.'

"'Are you going to take green, sir?' asked Thorne with a smile. "'Good Lord, I'd quite forgotten that fellow's trial,' exclaimed Blake. "'I fixed it to come off this afternoon, too, though, upon my word, I don't know what we can do with him.' And he started off for the Yankee Collier. Having nothing better to do, I asked leave to accompany him so as to get my bearings before starting on the Moros cruise. Green, somewhat violent, was being brought up from below as we boarded the Yankee. The terrors of the night when he attempted to escape, and his subsequent adventures, had half turned the man's brain, and he was still keeping up his wail about the million pounds.

I guess, if I were the Britishers, I'd drop him overboard with a stone round his neck, and no mistake. I heard Simband Ed and Rock, the Yankee skipper, observed to his first mate. But fortunately, for Green, Blake and his fellow skippers were less osse. stair. "'Two hundred thousand pounds if you'll only land me in Glasgow today!' "'Wind the wretched prisoner to his judges. "'I'll make all your fortunes for you. "'I will indeed. It's a dead sure thing.

"'Just buy the shares. They'll give them away. "'Then set afloat the news of this fleet being here and sell out. "'Oh, there's millions in it. Millions!' "'Yes!' he went on. addressing Blake. Just you think of it, my friend. You needn't go and fight and get killed for nothing. But just stay in here and make a million pounds.

A million pounds. That's enough, said Blake shortly. We've just met to settle whether it will be necessary to shoot you or whether we can stow you away out of harm without killing you as you deserve. What? he shrieked, still wanting to murder me. How true it is that the love of money is the root of all evil! Oh, God, save me! Spare me! Spare me!

And sinking to the floor, he lay there moaning and praying after a fashion, while the discussion as to his fate continued. Suddenly he sprang to his feet again, making a desperate effort to reach an open port, with what mad idea of escape I know not. Be still, you miserable hound! shouted, You don't think we're really going to waste powder and shot,

or good rope either, over your wretched carcass. You'll do anything to make sure of being able to buy up all the shares yourself, groaned green as soon as he had been brought to a standstill. He was utterly unable to conceive that we could aim at anything higher than the making of money. Money and the juggling with it were the gods he worshipped, he and thousands of others who, like him, disgraced the name of Englishman. But for him the days of money juggling were over, for he again fell to the ground, blood rushing from his mouth, a fit brought on by terror and anger had killed him.

We sent his body ashore for burial, without sorrow and without regret. England in her hour of woe was better freed from such as he. It was yet early when the Elizabeth E. Greenwood, with Blake as captain and me as supercargo, steamed out of the harbor on our scouting expedition, an expedition to find out and settle the day of our bursting forth as the Avengers of Fallen Britain. It was a risky move enough, but we were too used to risks by now to trouble or think much about that. For myself, I was quite sure that Blake was fully capable of getting us out of any hole, he might run into. Let's see, said Blake, as he paced the Collier's bridge.

We want dynamite. Torpedoes, if possible. Reliable news at all hazards. Well, here goes for it. Birkenhead is a likely place for that, but we'll have a look in at Holyhead, first of all. At Holyhead, which we reached without meeting any blockaders, we put in as a Yankee runner, and finding there a torpedo boat, number 54,

Blake sent me on board of her. The sub in command, Borset by name, was an old ship of mine, and startled he was to recognize me in the supposed Yankee apprentice. He told me that he had been lying idle at Holyhead, save for an occasional fruitless cruise on his own responsibility, during the whole of the war, an opine that both he and his boat had been completely forgotten at headquarters.

He had, therefore, had very easy times of it, and even had his father on board as a guest. The old gentleman was a regular fire-eater, and judging that by this time he must have picked up a deal of knowledge about torpedo boats, Blake, at his earnest request, let him stay on board as a sort of acting sub to his own son.

From Holyhead, where, thanks to Borset's telling us of them, we managed to collar a dozen spare torpedoes, we went back to Birkenhead. I could fill pages with this strange voyage, but my space runs short, and I must content myself with a mere relation of two of its leading incidents.

Arrived off the Mercy Port, Blake flew the Russian ensign and a flag of truce, getting into the torpedo boat, he steamed swiftly towards the harbor and alongside a landing stage where the mayor and corporation had come in great haste, but Blake did not stay to parley with them. Hastily handing in a letter addressed to the authorities, he was off again at full speed, nor was he much too soon, for three second-class torpedo boats manned by local crews were making for the supposed hostile worship. number 54 steamed up to these with a view of giving them some explanation,

but they did not wait to receive it as they turned tail and ran back the moment they saw Blake coming. This was my first and last experience of local crews, who, though plucky enough doubtless, were much too undisciplined to be of any practical value for war service. An hour or so later, a tug-flying of flag of truce came out, to us, bearing a local bigwig in person, a large quantity of dynamite, and quite an army of newspaper reporters. Blake and I hastily bordered her, as we did not want them in the Yankee Collier, where they might have heard too much. Sir, said the big wig to Blake,

do me the honor to allow me to shake hands with you. We trust that you will be able to remain in the mercy, which, as you must note, is far from. from adequately protected. Indeed, I assure you, Captain, I'm afraid you omitted your name and your letter. Whitehead is my name, at your service, sir, said Blake, giving me the slightest perceptible wink. Most appropriate name for a torpedo officer, I'm sure, replied the bigwig, and the scribblers behind him all made a note of it. He continued, the prize. The prize, of the dynamite is 500 pounds. I suppose it would be all right with the Admiralty. I'll send on board for the money in hard cash, if you'd prefer it, answered Blake.

Well, no matter. Still, if it isn't any inconvenience, it would relieve me of a certain honorous responsibility. Had a word from Blake, I skipped on board the groggy-lizar and got the coin from her captain, who, deeply interested in our enterprise, had taken the precaution of putting all his men in the forecastle out of sight and hearing of the reporters. When I returned, the Bigwig was questioning Blake, and the pressman jotting down his replies. It's a close secret, of course, Blake was saying, but I am hiding away not far from the mouth of the Shannon. I hope to torpedo some of the enemy who cruise round the, there, and I hope most out of this dynamite. I'm going to mine Bantry Bay with it, and blow up all the

French who used that place. A dozen pencils were scribbling down the words, as Blake uttered them, and the local dignitary ejaculated, splendid! I suppose our torpedo boats would be of no use to you. We might be prepared to lend them for a consideration. Blake declined hastily, then, saying it was time for him to be off, we returned to the collier. It's good to be patriotic at times. I heard the local Bigwig chuckled to himself as we made off, and in view of what he had charged Blake for his dynamite, I fancied he spoke the truth about himself. The tug cast off, and we steamed away with a torpedo boat following a stern, and the stars and stripes gaily fluttering from our peak. As soon as we were hauled down from

Liverpool, Borset made off for Loose Bay as hard as he could pelt, we following in more leisurely fashion. This precaution was in case we should meet an enemy's cruiser, which, seeing a torpedo boat in our company might become unduly inquisitive. And it was a good thing that Blake was so cautious, for off the calf of man we cited a French cruiser standing towards us. She proved to be the Duquesne, a rather ancient old tub, to whom we could have shown our heels in a stern chase, had we so minded. She signaled to the Elizabeth E. Greenwood do lie by, and sent a boat to inspect us when we obeyed. Sinbad N. Rock, as a seller of notions to brocators, was ready to welcome the French officer, who might have refused to believe in the genuineness of the Yankee flag, had Sinbad been less American.

The papers were overhauled and found satisfactory. The Frenchman was preparing to go when his eye caught one of our dummy torpedo boats that lay upon the collier's deck, from which the tarpaulin cover had partially slipped. He looked at it curiously, but before he could remark about it, the hand of Sinbad and Rock

crashed upon his back as he asked, "'Say, stranger, will you deal? A genuine torpedo boat for one thousand dollars. Dirt cheap and a bargain. You can frighten the Britishers with it, and no mistake, and no loss to you if they sink it. Real Brumagen. Well, I suppose I'll take 800 to clear. The officer, but half understanding, yet with suspicions fully roused, strode to the side and called to his boat's crew that he wished his captain to come on board, and they started back to the Duquesne to fetch him.

"'I guess it's cut and run now, Captain,' said Simbad to Blake. Blake nodded, and full speed ahead was hastily ordered. The distance between the ships was about three cables, and until their boat reached them and they missed their officer, it was possible the cruiser's suspicions would not be aroused by our moving on. Going at 15 knots, we should by that time be out of range of her guns, so off we went without delay. "'Call her the French, ye sharp!' cried Blake to me, and I succeeded in seizing him just as he drew his revolver to fire and give the alarm to his ship. He fought like a wildcat, before we had him down, however. Still he was triced up at last. At length it occurred to the Duquesne that our moving on might not be an order, and she fired a blank charge at us. Then, as we took no manner of heed, she sent a shot ricochurched. She sent a shot ricochews.

shaying across our bows, and a minute or two later one went singing over us. A broadside followed, but the range was too far for them. The shot fell short. Her ten knots were no good against our fifteen, and gradually we drew away until we had left her far behind in the glow of the sunset. After that, calling in at loose bay for young Borset, we got back to Lamblash without further adventure. Indeed, we had had our full meat of it already. Still, what with the dynamite and the necessary newspapers, we had profited well. The newspapers were essential requirements, as from them we could learn whether the time had arrived for us to start. Blake and I scanned them eagerly, reading the war news, which included telegraphic reports of the bombardment of sheerness by the Russians,

and the complete failure of the Brennan torpedo on which the Medway had counted so much. We were by now two use to tales of disaster to be very much affected by this last one, and I think I may say that we felt keener interest in the fate of Admiral Sir P. Gangrene, commander-in-chief at the Nor, than in the destruction of a few more forts that were built with money that should have been spent on ships. Admiral Gangrene, you may remember, after vainly telegraphing for assistance, had put to sea in his steam yacht the wildfire, accompanied by flag-captain counterpoys, with a view to observing the movements of the retreating Russians,

and his return was no longer hoped for. It was not till long after the war was over that I learned how the gallant admiral was captured, only to be set ashore again on the first opportunity. his criticisms on their details of uniform and style of hairdressing being more than his captors could endure. These episodes, the Indian Mutiny, the investment of London, and the running away of our Volunteer Army Corps gave us plenty to talk about. But in the midst of it all, we had one thing for self-congratulation. Though they have been unable to stamp out our cruisers on the high seas, the enemy believed that all that remained of the British Navy in home waters, was securely shut up in Plymouth Sound, or at Chatham.

Of the existence of Blake's flotilla, no one seemed to have the least idea. End of Chapter. Chapter 14 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane.

Chapter 14, The Day Before. On 29th October, the time being ripe, and our preparations complete, we put to sea with a fleet consisting of HMSS rattlesnake, Niger, Hornet, Dasher, Speedy, 5 torpedo boat, and the collier's Elizabeth E. Greenwood, Lily, Blanche, and Emerald Lass, which last two we had managed to pick up during our stay at Lamblash. There should have been many more vessels, but, alas, they had gone to join the great majority since that meeting in the Vernon. The Alta we left behind. She was too cumbersome to be of use with us. Blake sent the Lily over to Glasgow as we

left, with instructions to let it be discovered that a British cruiser was or had been hiding at Lamlash. The report soon found its way to the enemy, and later Lieutenant Orchardston, who was left behind with a torpedo boat to defend our base, managed to blow up a hostile vessel that crossed our minefield with a view to reconnoitering the harbor. The Lily having rejoined, our flotilla made for Loose Bay, which was reached in the early morning without anything hostile being cited. Spending the day here, as soon as it was dusk, we set off again over a practically deserted sea. Once we met a fishing smack, who, taking us to be an enemy, crowded on all sail and tried to escape. A torpedo boat overhauling him, learned from a terrified fisherman that an immense

Russian ship was lying somewhere in Milford Haven. This was, though we did not know it then, none other than the celebrated Rurik. Anxious as he was not to knowingly leave an enemy in our wake, our Commodore hesitated to risk his torpedo boats in an attempt to destroy the warship, and he would probably have led her alone but for the project unfolded by Borset Sr. This was nothing less than to get into the water with a torpedo, swim to near the Russian, and then let the weapon go on its errand of destruction. Since leaving this vessel behind might involve us in unforeseen difficulties, Blake at last consented to the arrangement, and number 54 went off towards Dale Road, getting into Jack's sound without betraying her presence to anyone. When night fell,

Borset's boat steamed cautiously to the mouth of the haven, and there lowered her dingy. Fortunately, the water was smooth, and the night dark and foggy, while the British fleet being presumably non-existent, the Russians were not likely to be expecting any attack. Nevertheless, they had boats out patrolling round the ship, which made it impossible for the dinghy to get anywhere near her. However, as but for these boats, the Borsets might have hunted. in vain for their quarry in the darkness, the circumstance was on the whole a favorable one. The cruiser was lying close-ins shore by St. Anne's head, and the boats covered a semicircle some two thousand yards to seaward of her, the land side being left quite unguarded.

The dinghy, which contained the two Borsets and a blue jacket, rode back to number 54, and, after a consultation there, in towards the seashore, where after a while they found a landing place. And here, by superhuman efforts, the three of them got the torpedo up over the cliffs and down again into Dale Flats. The first streak of dawn was already in the sky when Mr. Borset, with a life buoy around him,

entered the water with the torpedo. The tide carried him out to where the Rurik was lying, some half-mile from his starting point, and he had covered more than half the distance when a Russian with sharper eyes than his fellows noticed him and fired a rifle. The shot was followed by a volley, but a man in the water is a poor target at the best of times, and Mr. Borset was able to push the torpedo ahead of him, set the mode of power to work, and let her go. And a minute later, the career of the Rurik was ended for many weeks to come.

The Gallet civilian was nearly dead from cold and exposure, and would have been drowned if his son and the blue jacket had not swum out to him. As it was, he had to be left in a cottage ashore. Borset's boat joined us soon after sunrise with news of the successful enterprise, a long and interesting account of which appears in A Civilian's Reminiscences of the War by John Borset, wherein the author modestly states that he got the idea from a similar episode that occurred in the maneuvers several years before. Just before sunrise went off the sillies, we made out a cruiser bearing down upon us,

and failure seemed to again threaten our enterprise, for though our warships could give her the heels, the colliers were only too likely to fall a prey, so there was nothing for it but to fight it out. Our torpedo boats were skulking behind the colliers, and the enemy apparently took the whole lot of us for murder, merchantmen, all of us being disguised. It was getting dark before she came within range of our aftermost collier. We had straggled out in apparent flight. The emerald-last stopped directly,

the cruiser fired, and the boats, coming suddenly out, torpedoed the vessel before she had got over her surprise, and two torpedoes striking her, she sank almost immediately. Blake steamed back to the spot and found a few French sailors in one of their boats. As these, where they picked up by their friends, would have given information about us, we tried to take them prisoners, but they made a desperate and gallant resistance before they were overcome and taken on board one of the colliers. This task accomplished, we put into Penzance, and great was the terror our arrival created in the morning, for we flew the Russian flag. Lying inshore all day and getting provisions in water, and getting provisions in water, and

water, which we took without asking, for the people it all fled from the town. We left as night came on, and daybreak next morning found us inside Xmouth Bar, where a couple of ancient forts had been reduced to ruins by a hostile cruiser a few days before. It was a thick, heavy night coming around, and we saw nothing of the ironclads supposed to be beleaguering Plymouth, beyond a stray ship that nearly ran down number 45, and got torpedoed in return. The Solent was our objective, and Blake did not wish to risk an alarm reaching there for the sake of destroying a few ships off Plymouth that could very well wait till we came back again. At Exmouth, where we still posed as Russians, Blake and many others of us went ashore to get such newspapers as were

obtainable. As an English-speaking Russian, our Commodore interviewed some of the principal residence under a flag of truce, and getting hold of one who appeared to be trustworthy, revealed his true identity to him. The latter, who was taken completely by surprise, on his part told Blake that he had sent a messenger to Limpstone, the nearest telegraph office, with instructions to wire to Exeter for troops that must already be on their way. This was an awkward concertop. We did not wish to shoot down our own countrymen, but on the other hand,

if they once got to hear that we were an English force, the news might reach the enemy, and our great attack prove a failure. Finally, Blake decided to stay where we were under the flag of truce, and when the military arrived, a company of the Devonshire Regiment Militia and a half battalion of volunteers,

they seemed disposed to go for our small force right away, and were with difficulty restrained. Of course, when Blake explained matters in confidence to Colonel Top Higgins, the officer in command, the latter withdrew his troops, who were given to understand that an armistice was arranged till the evening, and they spent the rest of the day in putting up entrenchments on the hill around the church. I do not know how it was that none of them recognized our youth. uniforms, unless it was that all naval uniforms are very similar to each other, and they could hardly be expected to be familiar with the details of the Russian one. Anyway, everybody seemed satisfied as to our foreign origin, and we were congratulating ourselves on a day in harbor without further

trouble when an incident occurred that nearly wrecked all our plans. The residents, on learning that no fighting was likely to take place for several hours, got over their first terror, and soon we were surrounded by quite a crowd of people, curious to behold the dreaded foe. We, I should explain, were on the beach. The townsfolk promenaded on the seawall to gaze at us, and it was while idly watching the procession that my eye lighted on a figure that seemed familiar to me, a lady dressed in deep mourning. She, or the people she was with, had just stopped to look at the supposed Russians when she came almost face-to-face with Blake. For a moment they faced each other in silent astonishment, then with a cry, Edward, my darling, my love! You are not dead

after all! She rushed down the steps, and Blake held her in his arms. He would have been more than human to have been able to keep up the Russian disguise, and a moment later we were known to be English. Cheers rent the air, an enthusiastic crowd fell about us. We were welcomed as the saviors of a nation. The news spread like wildfire. Our carefully kept secret was ours no longer. It was the property of a thousand tongues. Then it was that Garron of the Hornet saved us. Realizing that, unless immediate measures were taken, the news would soon spread beyond the limits of X-mouth, he hastened to the soldiers and persuaded the colonel to form a cordon round the town. Recognized the importance of this precaution, that officer at once posted his men,

with instructions to shoot anyone attempting to force a passage through. Nor was he a moment too soon, for several people were captured, some of them after a lengthy chase, who had started for the nearest telegram office to flash the good news about the country. Blake and Miss Moncton had disappeared, nor did he rejoin us until it was time to be getting back to the ships. She and her father came down to the boat to see Blake off, and I could not help overhearing their farewell words.

Miss Moncton, I noticed, had already discarded her morning and was now dressed in something light. "'You are quite sure you forgive me, dear?' I heard her saying, For all I have made you suffer? And now, no longer do we meet, then we must part again. And God only knows if I shall ever see you more. I hear this awful war is nearly over.

Oh, why need you go? Why cannot you stay here? My darling, he made answer. It is because peace is so near that I must go. My duty to my country calls me. and you would not have me go against that. What we shall do tonight will, please God, alter the whole course of the campaign, and if it be fated that I see you no more, yet will you be happier for this meeting than had it not come about? And giving her one long

farewell kiss, he leaped into the boat, and we rode back to the rattlesnake. "'Come back, come back!' she cried to him in anguish, but fate was inexorable and no return was possible. Vainly she stood in the crimson glow, land and sea around her, died to colors of fire and blood as she stretched out white arms towards her lover till the red haze hid him from her eyes. It was a while in stormy sunset, such as one as Turner used to paint at this very place, A fitting accompaniment to the scene And a fitting portent To the bloody sequel now so close at hand

None of us, as we saw the sun sink behind the hills, Could expect or even hope, to see him rise again. End of chapter. Chapter 15 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Lieber Vox recording. All Lieber Vox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org.

This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Chapter 15. Woman's love and man's duty. Blake hurried below as soon as we got on board, busying himself with the charts, setting our course with scrupulous care. Only too glad to be able to leave him to himself,

I found work on deck, and was thus occupied when I heard the dip of oars and a cry of, Bo to-ahoy! from aft. I hastened towards the stern to see Miss Moncton and her father coming to us in a shoreboat. They came rapidly alongside, and the general was on board almost before the boat had lost the way on her. A minute later, and before I could think or say anything, he had helped his daughter on board. then at a sign from him the boat quickly made off into the gloom. Mr. Bovary? It was Miss Moncton, who spoke. Would you be kind enough to tell Captain Blake that he is wanted on deck? You need not say by whom.

Her voice, always a low and sweet one, had now in it, a ring of sad determination that told me for certain what I had already guessed, that, regardless of consequences, she had decided to be with Blake at the last, whether he would or no. I went below as desired, telling the skipper that he was wanted on deck, and moodily and listlessly he followed me there. I hurried forward so as not to overhear the meeting, and hung about in the conning-tower till it was more than time to start on our errand. I was roused from the reverie into which I had fallen by seeing General Moncton, and making his way towards me. "'Look here, Mr. Bovary,' said he, bluffly enough, as became an old soldier.

"'I want a few words with you. Honestly, what are your chances tonight?' I replied that we should probably succeed in sinking a large number of French and Russian ironclads, but that we ran grave risk of destruction both in entering the solent and in getting away. Meaning that you will in all human probability be sunk or captured? Sunk, possibly, I answered, but Blake will never strike. No, from what I know of him, I should say that it would be the last thing he would do. However, that is not the chief thing I wish to say. At present Blake is doing all he can to persuade my daughter to return on shore.

I did all I could to prevent her coming on board, but here we both are. Now I know my daughter well, and you, from even the little you are seen of her, can perceive well enough that she is not one easily set aside from her purpose. She is a woman, and to a woman the fate of an empire is as nothing to the safety of the man she loves. I wish to warn you accordingly. If my daughter can disable your engines or bring about your capture in any way, she will do so without the slightest hesitation. But Captain Blake would, I began excitedly. Of what he might say, or do she will wreck nothing in this matter, he interrupted.

I am an old man, with but a short time to live in any case, but is hard to have to choose between a daughter's life, and an empire's existence. And what has England done to deserve to survive as a nation? He added bitterly. Blake has wonderful luck, I said, with a hopefulness I was far from feeling. He may pull us through all right, small though the chances seem. The pitcher that goes off and to the well gets broken at last, retorted the general. And though as a soldier I can't presume to give an

expert opinion on a naval question, yet it seems to me that your rattlesnake has little time left to float. But in any case, duty is duty. If Lucy will choose to court death, I cannot save her at the expense of England. Watch her, lest some misfortune before your ship. Then he went sadly away, leaving me to worry over how best to act. I knew, Blake well enough to be certain that he would never let love stand before duty, but I was nonetheless anxious to save him from such a terrible dilemma as he might well find himself in, should Miss Moncton get an opportunity to put her supposed plans into execution. Yet what to do I could not settle. Thorne was also hanging about in the Conning Tower, so we consulted together, and finally decided to

take turns at watching Miss Moncton, and the lot having fallen upon me, I started upon my mission of espionage. As anticipated, Blake had been quite unable to dissuade her from accompanying us, and when I came up he seemed to have given up the attempt, as they were standing near the stern in quiet conversation. Blake had introduced me to her on shore, so I went up and uttered some commonplaces, then after a few minutes desultory conversation, he persuaded her to go below while we got underway. His cabin had been placed at her service. By Jove, said Blake to me quite cheerily. I'd no idea it was so late. Aren't you peckish yet? We must get dinner as we can, when we've got over the bar. Signalling to our consorts,

we began to get up anchor. Before I went to my post on the Foksel, however, I exchanged a word with the general. "'All right,' said he, "'I'll go on duty now, and see that nothing happens while you're getting ready to start. But I can't trust myself very long. It's a hard fight against a father's love.' Poor old man, he was nearly distracted at the turn of events. Indeed, but for the fact that he had been a soldier,

I should have been unable to feel any confidence in him whatever. ever. As it was, I didn't feel over much. We crept out of Exmouth, leaving all our colliers behind, saving the lily. Captain Higgs was so anxious to accompany us right through, and so certain that he could be useful, that Blake had agreed to allow him to come. As events turned out, it was a good thing for us that he did. Once beyond the bar, we made a straight course for Portland Bill, and Thorne going on watch, Blake and I hurried below to dinner. The meal, such as it was, was quite a merry one. We all seemed to put on gaiety, which, whether assumed or not, exercised a decidedly cheering

influence. Miss Moncton, who was fortunately for her a good sailor, made Mary over our crockery, which was in a sadly battered condition, and no stranger seeing the meal would have guessed that we expected it to be our last. By and by she led the conversation round to the ship, expressing particular curiosity about the engines. And I suppose, she said after Blake had explained them to her, I suppose a piece of bursting shell even a little bit if it got among the wheels and things would stop the ship. He replied that of course it would, but the engine hatches being shut down, such an event was unlikely in the extreme.

whatever suspicions i may have previously had were now strengthened and the unsuspecting blake had given her the knowledge she required a few minutes later we went on deck blake to the conning tower forward and i nominally to inspect the torpedo tubes but in reality to lie in wait for our fair enemy nothing happened however miss monkton came on deck and joined blake in the conning tower "'We shall have such a short time together now "'that every moment is precious to me,' "'I heard her say to our captain, "'and doubtless he was of the same opinion.' "'Stealthily the rattlesnake and her consorts "'slip through the water.

"'Fortune was with us again in the matter of weather, "'for the night was thick and dark, "'with showers at intervals, "'while the sea was fairly smooth. "'In the gloom I could just see, Miss Moncton, wrapped in Blake's overcoat, standing close to him forward. Her tall figures silhouetted against the dimly white foam that shot from the rattlesnake's bow. In the faint glow thrown up by the phosphorescence, I could see her light-brown hair blown across her face by the

wind of her onward rush, and ever in anon I could hear the soft murmur of her voice. A strange picture, truly, in the tragedy of love and war. Suddenly she did. She did. She did. She did. She did, she did, disappeared. While I was yet craning my neck to see whether she had merely shifted her position, I heard a sound behind me, the sound of a hatchway being forced open by unaccustomed hands. Quick as thought, I turned and made for the engine hatches. A gleam of light shot up into the sky, lighting up Miss Moncton's face. With one hand she struggled to keep the hatch open, in the other she held a short iron bar. There was no time to speak, rushing from, rushing forward I seized her hands and pulled her from the hatch, which fell down again with a loud

crash. The bar was in my hands now, and I threw it overboard, but not without a struggle. Twice the now desperate girl hit me in the face with her ringed fingers, cutting down the side of my face. Blake sang out angrily to know what the noise meant, and as I turned to reply, Miss Moncton wrenched herself free of me and darted behind the search of her. light. Fortunately, no one had witnessed the encounter, and I explained to Blake that I had fallen down, getting a good telling off for my clumsiness at a time when silence was all important. When he had gone again, I apologized as well as I could for my roughness, but she paid me little heed. The failure of her scheme seemed to have stultified Miss Moncton completely.

Since I cannot save him, I will die by his side, was all she said, and then went forward again, leaving me to continue my watch in silence. End of chapter. Chapter 16 of Blake of the Rattlesnake. This is a Liebervox recording. All Liebervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane, Chapter 16, the final chapter.

Torpedo Triumphance, the saving of England. The French, believing the remnants of the British Navy to be safely shut up at Chathamore-Plymouth and so unsuspicious of any attack, had guarded the Indian. to the solent in very negligent fashion, and for some time no lookouts were visible. In three lines we steam slowly towards our quarry, the Collier-Lilly being some three or four cables ahead of us. Our center line consisted of torpedo boat number 87, towing a stern of her six dummy torpedo boats, which we have made during our stay at Lamash. These were each a cable or so apart, the intervals being somewhat irregular, and the tow line was underwater all the way,

so as to lessen the weight and save it from being cut through by shot. Our port, or inshore division, consisted of the Rado, dasher, and hornet. The rest formed the starboard attack. All of us, even the dummy boats, flew the Russian ensign. It was a strange feeling to enter thus, as foes, the harbor that had never before been aught but English in the memory of man. Everything having been practiced and arranged at Lamblash, we took up this formation without a hitch, and, steaming thus in cautious fashion, at length, sighted a small vessel ahead, a French scout, which turned her searchlight on the lily. Captain Higgs, who had gone on with lights out so as to attract attention, had picturesquely wrecked his vessel for the occasion,

with a dummy four-funnel shorn of half its length, main mass broken off short, and imitation shot-holes in her side, the lily looked as though she had just emerged from a hard-fought fight. The Frenchman fired a gun across her bows as a signal for her to stop, which she immediately did, and, turning a searchlight,

we had fitted her with, full on the enemy, began making at the same time a series of heterogeneous signals that must have sorely puzzled those who tried to read them. Blinded by the searchlight, their attention occupied by the supposed Russian, none of the enemies saw us steal past until it was too late for them to interfere with our attack. We had passed them,

and ahead of us lay two long lines of battleships, some looming up black and silent in the darkness, others lit up by the flashes of the random guns they had already begun to fire. Mostly they used no searchlights, fearing thereby to bewilder their gunners, nor as yet were they certain in which direction to look. Before long, however, a chance beam from the electric light fell upon our leading torpedo boat, now going for between the lines at her utmost speed, the dummies trailing well out astern of her. I suppose the Russian flag puzzled the French, for there was a lull in the firing,

some signaling, shouting, and momentary indecision. But as number 87 reached the farther end of the lines, a vigorous cannonade began again, and at the same instant we heard the detonation of a couple of torpedoes. The psychological moment had come. Blake blew his signal whistle. We tore down the Russian flag, hoisting the white ensign in its place, and off we went between the shore and the enemy till we had passed the last of them. Then, circling round, we charged back to complete the work of destruction we had begun. Scarcely a shot came near us, as our torpedoes went home, one after the other, with a series of the most awful explosions I have ever witnessed. By the time we had been up the lines and down again, a space of but a few months.

minutes. Of all that great armada, but two ships were left firing, all the rest had sunk or run aground. Our dummy boats, which had received the greater part of the enemy's attentions, held out well. Too well, in fact, since, with the exception of the leading boat, they had proved well-nigh indestructible, and unless we could either destroy or take them away with us, it would be impossible to again practice this brilliant ruse de guerre. As it was, their recovery seriously delayed us, but at length one of the torpedo boats managed to pick up a buoy that drifted a stern of them, and none too soon we made back at full speed.

Torpedo boats were coming out of the harbor in shoals, while ahead we could discern our old acquaintance the scout we had passed coming in. Blake, who had anticipated some trouble of this sort, at once signaled to our consorts to clear out independently and rendezvous off the needles, and all immediately scattered in accordance with a prearranged plan. The Rado got out untouched, and once passed the needles, slowed down to pick up such other vessels of our flotilla as might be about. The Hornet, Dasher, and two torpedo boats, which had kept in sight, soon joined to. us, and eventually we made out the three queer-shaped funnels of the Speedy, as she labored along in our wake, the five remaining dummies towing a stern of her. But of our other vessels, we saw nothing, though we looked for them long and anxiously. Miss Moncton, who during the attack

had been shut up in the cunning tower, now came out on deck, prematurely congratulating herself that the fighting was over. She was soon undeceived, however, by hearing our Commodore, giving orders for the attack on the other hostile fleet that we expected to find at Portland. Hitherto the girl had exercised restraint, but the prospect of this fresh danger did away with her self-control, and in front of Thorne and myself, within hearing even of some of the crew, she urged Blake to abandon the enterprise. "'Have I no claim upon you, too? Have not I, your affianced bride, a right to demand that you live for me? We heard her passionately exclaim, but Blake was inexorable. A shame that through my indecision this trouble had come upon us, anxious to men matters as much as

lay in my power. I called out to man and armed ship on my own responsibility, and in the bustle of the moment, Blake led her to the conning tower again. Torn by conflicting emotions, compelled to endangered the life of the woman he loved, our skipper never wavered one moment, nor did he even exhibit any signs of annoyance at this last provocation. The certainty of ultimate destruction was now so strong that all other feelings were smothered in its fatalism. The glamour of the Death-Watch was upon us. So much was this so that it never occurred to any of us what a pretty scandal Miss Moncton's presence on board would cause, if by any off chance we should survive. I doubt if it ever struck her either, but she, at any rate, was past caring for anything,

save her wild desire to save our captain's life. At first we did not think we were being followed, but in this we were mistaken. A few miles from Portland Bill, just as we were making our final dispositions for the attack, several rockets went up a stern of us, and after a brief interval these were answered by others ahead. All these signals were similar to those made by the enemy in the solent, white and green stars turning to red, evidently a distinguishing signal. It had been our intention to stop about here, in order to transfer some spare torpedoes to our boats which were now unarmed. But the discovery of our presence by the enemy made this a...

grave risk. It seemed better to attack with our larger ships only, and this we started to do. As yet, the strangers could not tell our exact whereabouts, while their signals made their own positions pretty plain. Though we were not yet able to discover whether the ships ahead were merely scouts or the Russian Portland fleet. Till this should be ascertained, it was our policy not to attack them, lest catching the sprat, we should lose the matter. mackerel. Blake altered course, and we stood for the shore at 16 knots, passing quite unobserved within a mile of the advancing warships. In a few more minutes, Portland would be open to us. In the excitement I had forgotten all about Miss Moncton, though I should have known that she would seize any opportunity that might present itself to wreck our plans. When the thought of her suddenly flashed across my mind, I started to look for her, but I was too late. Heart by the conning tower was a rocket ready in position for firing, the string hanging within easy reach of anyone. As I came inside of it, Blake was standing up by the twelve-pounder

watching the enemy through his nightglasses. Miss Moncton below him was gazing at the rocket. In an instant I divined her purpose, but I was too far away to prevent it. I called out to her not to touch it, but even as I called, she pulled the string. With a hiss and a roar, the rocket flew blazing into the sky, lighting up the waters all around us, and betraying our exact position to the enemy. Blake dropped his glasses as though he had been shot, and immediately jumped onto the deck beside her. I expected an explosion, but his first words were to inquire whether she was hurt. He was unsuspicious even yet. "'You have done for us now, Lucy,' he said gently, when she had assured him that the rocket had done her no harm.

How on earth did you manage to get entangled in it? For a minute there was a pause. Then, I did it on purpose, she answered slowly. On purpose, he repeated, scarce seeming to understand her. On purpose. See, the enemy are coming back. We shall be captured. Only capture will save you from your suicidal self.

"'The rata will never be captured, Lucy. "'You have only helped to sink her a little sooner,' was all he said. "'Her motive was so plain, her loving desperation so apparent, "'that he had not the heart to be angry with her, "'but on his face came a look that made me wonder whether, "'holding it to be his duty, "'he was going to have her thrown overboard. "'There was no time now for any more speech.

"'The enemy was coming up rapidly, "'firing randomly at us as they came. Now to port, now to starboard, we rushed, but the enemy were not to be shaken off. We and the destroyers might have bowled through them, but this would have entailed the sacrifice of the speedy, and probably of the torpedo boats as well, and for this Blake was not prepared. The strange vessels, swift as ourselves, kept pace with us. Evidently they were uncertain of our strength and power, and were waiting till daylight should enable them to destroy us at long range. At length, the dreaded dawn broke, and we could make out

the black forms of hostile cruisers steaming with us as we made down-channel. The sea ahead was comparatively clear, and there was just a chance that we might yet get away. Presently the enemy began to signal rapidly. Their leading vessels slowed down. From their lofty tops they had sighted something ahead. But whether it was a death-trap into which we were speeding we could not yet ascertain. Still, whatever might be ahead, we could not stop to fall into the hands of our pursuers, and so we sped along till we made out a number of battleships coming towards us in wide single column of line abreast. Tired out and exhausted as we were, we braced ourselves for another fight, but long ere we had got within range of them, we made out the center vessel. She could, even at that

distance be none other than the old thunderer. We approached the fleet warily enough, nevertheless, lest they should prove to be in hostile hands, while they regarded us with equal suspicion. After a while they began to signal to us, and we having made our numbers, which could just be distinguished in the dawning light, they sent on a cruiser flying a white flag, then, satisfied as to who we were, signaled to us to fall in astern. The thunderer, it may be remembered, had been badly torpedoed on the first night of the war, and had only got out of dockyard hands in time to be shut up in Plymouth. Her captain semaphord to us that they had broken out of Plymouth's sound the previous night,

destroyed some of the blockading fleet, which had already been severely handled by the Maker forts, and were now in hot pursuit of the remainder who had fled away up-channel, and these presumably were some of the ships we had met, and so narrowly escaped from. The fleet, with the thunderer, consisted of the old ironclads Agincourt, Dreadnought, Hercules, Sultan, Rupert, Neptune, Devastation, Bellerophon, the cruisers Talbot, Sappho, and Phoebe, and one torpedo boat, a thornycroft boat, whose number I forget, and these were all that was left, to the British Navy save ships on foreign stations, and a rag-tag and bobtail fleet of badly damaged ironclads, including the half-completed illustrious, that had been telegraphed to to break out from Chatham,

the forts of which had so far prevented attacks from the land, on the Russians at the Noor. Blake on his part signaled back that in the last few days we had between Lamash and Plymouth torpedoed the Rourik and two other vessels unknown, that we have been into the Solent the previous night, and during our visit had sunk or disabled some twenty French warships. Further communication was interrupted by a movement of the enemy ahead. It was now light enough to see them fairly well, and we could count a good twenty large ships besides a number of small craft.

A stern of the British ironclads, a dozen or more other ships were visible, A great battle was imminent, a battle against overwhelming odds. The enemy's present movements were confined to a change of formation, however. They made no attempt to attack our entrapped fleet. Either they hoped to force us to surrender by a show of superior force, or else the daily expected peace made their admirals doubtful as to the advisability of risking the loss of any more ships while destroying the British.

It was now quite light, and the rising sun showed us columns of smoke on the eastern horizon, yet another fleet coming up to join in the naval Armageddon. The British Admiral, unable to steam at much above ten knots, made no attempt to escape. It would have been utterly useless to try and do so with the enemy's swift vessels so near. He was practically surrounded. Thorne and I stormed at the delatoriness of our Admiral. "'He's just letting them collect so as to have a good number to strike to,' I said. "'No,' said Blake, coming up to us.

"'He thinks the fleet steaming down are our ships from Chatham, though the enemy fancy they are Russians. In any case the fight will begin in a few minutes more.' He paused, then went on in a strained voice, avoiding our eyes. Before it does, Miss Moncton must leave the rattlesnake. And so I want to ask a favor of you, Bovery. We've been shipmates together all through the war, and, on the strength of it, I ask you to leave the ship now. To do what, sir? I inquired in wonder.

Miss Moncton must leave the ship. I cannot have her go down with a rattlesnake. Take her off in the boat now, now it wants. Get her to the shore, if possible. Or if you cannot do that on board one of the battleships. I can fight this fight without you, as I've settled what to do, but I cannot send her a drift at the mercy of a couple of blue jackets. But her father, sir, lies dead in the wardroom. The strain and excitement have been too much for him. It's a hard thing to do, old man. I know. It makes you seem a runaway. So I ask instead of order you. I am ready, sir, was all I said, and he grasped my hand and he grasped my hand. in a farewell shake.

God bless you, Bovery! He added brokenly. Miss Moncton was half dead from exposure and terror. The sudden death of the old general had completely upset her, and when Blake told her to get into the boat, she obeyed him mechanically.

I was already in the boat with a single blue jacket that Blake could spare me, and directly she had taken her place in the stern, we shoved off rowing our hardest. Blake, not trusting him, himself to speak, hurried back to his post on top of the conning tower. But the sad drama was not

ended. We had rode but a few strokes from the doomed vessel when Miss Moncton awoke to what was going on, and sprang to her feet with a piercing scream of terror that wrung my very heart. "'Edward! Edward! Edward! For God's sake, don't send me away from you! Let me stay and die with you! Die with you! I don't want to live when you are gone!' With a strength born of anguish and despair, she seized my oar, and despite my efforts to prevent her, backed water with it. Not daring to meet her eyes, I put my head down to hide my face and pull my very hardest against her. Presently her strength failed, and abandoning the attempt, she made as though to jump into the sea, but holding fast onto her, I

prevented that also. Gradually her struggles ceased, and she sank down into the bottom of the boat in a swoon. Over the water in sad accents came the voice of Blake. Goodbye, my darling, goodbye. And then the rattlesnake made a way to her doom. Guns were firing and signals flying, and through the smoke I could see the light squadrons of the opposing fleets charging at each other. In a moment they seemed to meet, a brief cloud of smoke and flame, then out of the melee emerged the Rado, Dasher, and Hornet, steering straight for the hostile battleships at 30 miles an hour. The water around them was lashed into foam by the shot and shell, but they held their way unchecked. They reached the leading ironclads, the spume of torpedo explosions rose like water spouts.

Then they vanished in the mist, and strain our eyes as we would. no trace of them was visible. The firing increased in intensity, the big guns taking their turn too, for by now some of the belligered ironclads were within range of each other. Suddenly, through a rift in the smoke, I saw the rattle, torn and battered,

much down by the head. Before her were two huge ironclads that had collided in the confusion caused by Blake's attack. She was evidently sinking, but the British flag still flew from her, and staff above the shot-splashed water. Hours seemed to pass as she crawled nearer and nearer to the battleships now towering above her, two or three pregnant minutes at the most.

There came a lull in the firing, a lull of foreboding. The ships touched. As they did so, a mighty column of mingled flame in water leaped into the air, and falling hid everything from my sight. Then came the roar of a terrific explosion. and I knew that Blake and the rattlesnake were no more. He had blown her up in the midst of the foe. So enrapped was I in watching this terrible episode

that I had left the boat to drift by herself. Shot was now falling around us, and, pull as we would against the tide, we could not gain the shore. In the course of our struggles we were hailed from the thunderer, and soon we were alongside her. The great ironclad slowed down, a rope was thrown to us, and Miss Moncton, still in her swoon, taken on board and sent below.

The fight was growing in intensity, and now was not the moment for explanations. I was hastily told off to take the post of a sub who, poor fellow, was already down, but of what I did or how we fared in that battle of giants, I have but little, if any, coherent recollection. It suffices to say that some hours later, when the—' the firing ceased, a large portion of the Plymouth and Chatham Squadron still floated, bruised and battered but victorious. Guns behind armor had conquered, and seven French and Russian ironclads, now flying the White Ensign, were our fruits of victory. The rest of our gallant foes had gone

down with colors flying. This battle, as everybody knows, ended the war. The fleet cruised about the channel for a few days, but there were no more fights. The enemy had had enough of it. The last week, thanks mostly to Blake, had cost them some forty warships. The rato alone, in blowing up with all that dynamite on board, had taken two ironclads to the bottom with her, and severely damaged a third, and altogether the enemy were without any fleet suitable to continue the war. Their deadly QF guns have made little impression on the thunderer and her completely armored consorts, which were soon fit for sea as ever.

Cruisers from foreign stations were daily arriving home, having cleared distant waters of all hostile vessels, and the Allies, hampered by nihilists and anarchists at home, were only too anxious to end a war that threatened to continue only to their disadvantage. And so, as everyone knows, the great peace came about.

In conclusion, I must explain what I should perhaps have made clearer before, that this little tale is in no way intended to compete with the more elaborate histories of the war that have appeared in the last few years. My claim to be read lies in my being, I fear, the only survivor of those who knew Blake, and were with him when he and his fellow torpedo men saved England and laid down their lives for her sake. Whether England was worth the sacrifice is a question that those who look around them cannot have much difficulty in answering.

The self-sacrifice of her sailors has brought England a spell of peace again. It has created a large number of desirable berths in the War Pension Office. It has given an open field for the exercise of parliamentary and party fudge for some years to come. but the patriotic outburst of the closing months of 18-90-something has fizzled out long ago. The starving of the Navy goes on just as it did before the war, and though improvements have been affected in many details, yet minor considerations outweigh the more important issues as of old. Now and again I hobble to St. Paul's, were some who had been shipmates with them before the war, placed a monument to the memory of Blake and the Aronites, and as I gaze on its stony grandeur,

I often wished that my name too were on that marble slab. Blake was better dead with glory, for had he lived, all that he had done would scarcely have atoned for his revolt. Indeed, I was court-martialed for my small share in it, and though let off without any special punishment, my naval career ended with the war, the credit and glory of which was usurped by the military. The Navy was thanked for its assistance in the closing days. The mass of the honor went to an army of volunteers that defeated the French, who, Blake's attack having lost them the command of the sea, were retreating in disorderly haste towards Portsmouth. Miss Moncton never recovered from the double shock of that memorable and fateful night. For a while she haunted Blake's tomb, a tall, black-clad figure

worn with grief, but she has long since gone to join him where the weary are addressed. This is the end of Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane. Thank you for listening.