Such a state of things could not, of course, be continuously maintained--the Baltic weather alone made that impossible. E. 1, E. 8, and E. 18 followed their leaders, and all did good service during the autumn; but their reports show how severe were the conditions when the winter really set in. E. 9 had already noted very bad weather in November, and on the 25th ‘boat became covered with a large quantity of ice.’ On January 10, 1916, E. 18, commanded by Lieut.-Commander R. C. Halahan, reports ‘temperature very low: sea very rough; great difficulty in keeping conning-tower hatch clear of ice, as sea came over constantly and froze at once.’ Two days later she proceeded to Reval in company with a Russian ice-breaker. ‘The ice was very thick in places, but no difficulty was experienced in getting through.’ These hindrances continued for months. As late as April 28, we find E. 18 accompanied through Moon Sound by an ice-breaker ‘as there were occasional thick ice-fields.’ The next day some of these ice-fields came drifting down upon the anchorage, and E. 18 had to slip and anchor off until night. Even so, she could not be sure of escaping all danger; for the ice brought down large masses of stone, and deposited them in the channels.
[Illustration: ‘The Russian ice-breakers freed them from the harbour ice.’
In spite of all difficulties and hardships, our submarines continued their campaign indomitably, and would no doubt at this hour still hold the mastery of the Baltic trade, if the collapse of our Russian friends had not deprived them of their bases and rendered their operations useless. Early in April, 1917, it became evident that Finland must fall into German hands, and steps were taken to withdraw our naval force from the Baltic. But, for the boats themselves, there could be no return from the scene of their voyages and victories. They lay ice-bound in the harbour of Helsingfors, and there they must end their unparalleled story, for surrender to an enemy so unworthy was not to be thought of.
As soon, then, as official news came of the landing of German troops at Hango, these famous adventurers were led to their last rendezvous. The Russian ice-breakers freed them from the harbour ice. All the Russian officers who had been attached to the British flotilla, and who were then in Helsingfors, offered their assistance for the funeral rites, and soon after midday Lieut. Basil Downie, the officer in command of the submarine depot, put to sea in E. 1, followed by E. 9, E. 8, and E. 19. Each boat carried her death potion in the form of torpedo warheads with a 20-lb. dry cotton charge as primers. Three of these charges were allotted to each--one forward, one aft, and one amidships; and when the alarm-bell of the clock in each should ring, contact would be made and the end would come. The point decided on was reached at last. The bells rang, and E. 19, E. 1, and E. 9 sank to their own thunder. E. 8, by some failure of her clock, remained unhurt, and since the ice-breaker could not stay out at sea longer, she was left to die another day, with other comrades. At 7.0 next morning, Lieut. Downie put to sea again with C. 26 and C. 35 and the torpedo-barge, with the few remaining stores. When the clocks rang this time, E. 8 sank, and C. 26 with her. The barge and C. 35 were left to wait for C. 27, the last of that victorious company. On the following morning the barge was blown up, and the two submarines were simply sunk in fifteen fathoms. They went down uninjured, but within three minutes two great explosions followed, and twelve-foot columns of water shot up. ‘This, presumably,’ says the report, ‘was the exploding of their batteries.’ Our Viking ancestors would have said, perhaps, that it was the bursting of their dragon hearts.