Aug 21, 1015. SMS Nürnberg, Howe Sound.
Nurnberg had come up to her full speed of 23 and a half knots, racing up the inlet of Howe Sound. Von Schönberg found the body of water to be much like Observatory Inlet, on the way to Anyox, or the Inside Passage. Another wild steep sided seemingly endless channel. If anything, the mountains to the east were even taller than in the other inlets Nürnberg had visited on her tour of British Columbia. Far down the inlet Von Schönberg could see the purple tusks of what must have been the remnants of volcanoes, rock thrusting skyward through bright white skirts of glaciers.
Trade Commissioner Augustus Meyer stood beside Von Schönberg on Nürnberg’s Shrapnel riddled bridge wing.
“All of my military and sailor’s instincts tell me I should be heading back out to sea at this moment, Herr Meyer,” said Von Schönberg. “It is only on your insistence that we are taking this extra leg of the voyage.”
“You told me your mission is to inflict the maximum damage on the British war making capacity,” said Meyer, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I am just advising you how to do it. Let me paint you the economic picture, Captain. Britain has almost no copper mines of her own, all their copper comes from the Empire and trade. And as I’m sure you know, no copper means no bullets and no shells.”
Meyer seemed to be settling into his element, delivering an Economics lecture. “Canada and Australia produce most of the Empire’s copper, with about a tenth coming from South Africa. Canada alone produces significantly more copper than the German Empire. The copper production in the coastal region of British Columbia is around 17 percent of Canada’s total, and furthermore, those are the mines that are increasing in production, as the inland mines become tapped out. Copper production in the Coastal Region of British Columbia comes from just three groups of mines. The Granby Mines at Anyox, the Marble Bay Mines on Texada Island, and the Anaconda Mines at Britannia Beach.”
“Now I understand that you have taken care of the mine at Anyox,” said Meyer appreciatively.
“That was pure luck,” said Von Schönberg. “We came seeking coal.”
“In any case, well done,” Meyer continued. “If your colleague Captain Haun manages, the mines on Texada Island will be going out of production right about now. And here we are, headed for Britannia Beach. So at a stroke, the British Empire loses a tenth of its copper production, for something like a year until the facilities can be built back. Oh, that will be felt,” Meyer rubbed his hands together in glee. “I can tell you, that will be felt.”
“So we will continue then,” said Von Schönberg.
Nürnberg continued steaming due north, passing Gambier and Anvil Islands. Ahead, a steam tug pulling a barge made its way slowly up the Sound.
Nürnberg quickly closed on the tug and its tow. The tow was a rail transfer barge, with a dozen railcars densely packed on its deck. The towing vessel was a handsome wooden tug of around 150 tons with a tall single funnel. The name
Faultless was painted on the battered stern. As Nurnberg drew even closer, PGE could be read painted on some of the boxcars.
“Where are those rail cars going?” asked Von Schönberg. “To Britannia mines?”
“No, to some other mines, further inland I expect,” replied Meyer. “You could say the rail line runs from nowhere to nowhere, although the owners promise it will reach the Grand Trunk Pacific main line at Prince George, eventually.” Meyer chortled to himself. “Prince George Eventually is a wag’s pun on the railway name. The Pacific Great Eastern Railway is underfunded, and I suspect it is a ruse to mine the Provincial Government loan guarantees. Ahh, the way business is done in this part of the world. You really have to see it to believe.”
“Fascinating, I am sure,” said Von Schönberg. “I am going to sink that barge. I suspect it contains contraband of war. Signals! Send a challenge.”
RELEASE YOUR TOW IT WILL BE SUNK WITH GUNFIRE, sent
Nürnberg by semaphore.
“The tug is transmitting our position in clear.” reported a wireless runner. “Should we jam, sir?”
“Don’t bother,” replied Von Schönberg, “Our position is being frequently reported from shore. That tug has not responded. Sound the siren. Repeat the challenge.”
“Sir the tug has changed course,” called the helmsman. “It is crowding us toward the shore.”
“I see it,” said Von Schönberg.
Nürnberg was now coming alongside the barge, and would soon overtake
Faultless, passing on the cruiser’s port side.
“Fire a warning shot,” ordered Von Schönberg. But before that could happen, a deckhand at the tug’s winch de-clutched the towline, and the tug turned hard over into
Nürnberg’s path.
“Helm!” ordered Von Schönberg. “turn around her!”
“We’re not going to make it!” responded the helmsman.
“Collision alarm!” ordered Von Schönberg.
The winch on the tug’s deck sang as the towline paid out. A cloud of rust and grease spray rose around the spinning drum. With the towline slackening, the tug was able to make this violent maneuver without being impeded by the drag of her barge. Thus unencumbered,
Faultless just managed to cut across
Nürnberg’s bow. The deckhand re-clutched the towing winch. A man on the bridge wing made an obscene gesture in the direction of
Nürnberg’s bridge.
“All Stop!” ordered Von Schönberg. “We can not let the screws become fouled!” The engine telegraph clanged, and the vibration of the engines stopped, but Nürnberg still had 23 and a half knots of forward momentum. The cruiser’s ram bow cut through the water past the tug’s rounded stern, only meters away. A whizzing sound now could be heard, coming from the bow. Von Schönberg looked forward, and could see the towing cable had been hooked by the ram. On the barge side, to Nürnberg’s port, the cable had dipped deep into the water with the sudden extra slack but was now quickly being drawn taut again as the cruiser pulled the cable. Von Schönberg would have liked to get a better view of what was happening with the cable and Nürnberg’s bow, but the situation was about to become deadly if the cable parted and snaked over the cruiser’s deck, and anyway, there was no time. There was no time, even, for him to transfer command to the armoured conning tower.
“Clear the deck!” Von Schönberg ordered. “Brace for impact!”
The tow line to the barge continued to tighten, Von Schönberg, saw the line lift briefly out of the water for its full length, the barge accelerated for a second, then he looked to starboard and saw over the rail, the hull and funnel of the tug make a sudden whipsaw motion as
Faultless was yanked backwards. A torturous creaking sounded, like pulling an immense nail from a piece of wood, then a snap, and Von Schönberg saw the winch, with large pieces of the tug still attached, leap into the air, bounce off
Nürnberg’s, foredeck, and disappear over the cruiser’s bow into Howe Sound, with a splash that could be heard but not seen. Pieces of wooden decking and debris landed on
Nürnberg’s upperworks.
Von Schönberg noticed first that none of his crew seemed to have been killed, then that the starboard anchor capstan was bent well out of vertical. Astern to port,
Faultless was drifting backwards. A large piece of her after deck was missing, and the streams of water pouring over her gunwales showed that her pumps were working hard. The barge was losing momentum and beginning to rotate on the current.
Nürnberg was still coasting forward on her momentum, engines stopped, and gradually losing way.
“Prepare to put a diver over the side to inspect the screws,” he ordered. “Guns, sink that barge.”
“What of the tug, sir?” asked the gunnery officer.
“They will be busy enough trying to stay afloat, I expect,” answered Von Schönberg. The number 9 and 10 guns made short work of the barge, at a range of 200 meters, and it capsized, the rail cars toppling as the barge rolled over. Echoes of the gunfire bounced back and forth between the mountainous sides of the inlet. Engineers leaning over the rail could see no evidence of the tow cable entangled in the screw or rudder, and soon a diver, secured with a rope, confirmed that no damage had resulted.
“We are very fortunate to have caught that towline, rather than running over top of it,” said Von Schönberg. “Well then, all ahead full,” and
Nürnberg again was under way. The cruiser steamed north for about 20 minutes, seemingly towards a dead end in the inlet, but then the channel turned to the north west and a haziness appeared in the previously clear air. Suddenly, past the projecting slope of a mountain ridge, emerged the steep sided valley of Britannia Creek, and on its estuary, the mill site of Britannia Beach. At the same time, three miles across the Sound, another industrial site emitted a white smoke column that dispersed across the inlet.
“Behold, the operations of the Britannia Mining and Smelting Company,” said Mueller the elder. “And yonder, the brand new pulp mill at Woodfibre.” Nürnberg steered towards the copper mill.