its good to see someone worthy get a promotion but it is kind of strange to see somebody go directly from such a low rank right to an officer rank? the same with naming the ships, wouldn’t there need to be something more official from the government itself as Pilcher is from the Royal Navy? the man seemed to have it rather rough though so some weird behaviour is understandable.
Remember the Rainbow Redux: An Alternate Royal Canadian Navy
its good to see someone worthy get a promotion but it is kind of strange to see somebody go directly from such a low rank right to an officer rank? the same with naming the ships, wouldn’t there need to be something more official from the government itself as Pilcher is from the Royal Navy? the man seemed to have it rather rough though so some weird behaviour is understandable.
Good grief! I thought this crazy submarine caper was part of the other TL's PoD!!
This really happened? Oh my.
This really happened? Oh my.
Yep the submarine caper was a real event, one of Canada’s few times where she took procurement seriously. All it took was a serious threat of incoming attack with little defenses in a time of war
Yep the submarine caper was a real event, one of Canada’s few times where she took procurement seriously. All it took was a serious threat of incoming attack with little defenses in a time of war
And note that it was not the Feds but the province that pulled the trigger on the purchase.
A Rainbow on the Horizon
As Rainbow finally arrived off San Francisco on the morning of August 7, Commander Hose assessed his current situation. Between himself and the opinions of his navigator, they had predicted that Algerine and Shearwater should be inside San Francisco harbor or around the area itself, unless they had ceased hugging the coast and left for open seas. The lack of wireless sets aboard the pair of ships meant that they were hard enough to track down, although more worryingly was the fact that the pair of ships could be completely unaware of the declaration of war. One of those predictions would be quickly proven incorrect as upon entering the harbor, both sloops were nowhere to be found. The harbor itself was packed with merchantmen of various nations, the news of Rainbow and Leipzig in the area had halted the traffic of all belligerent countries. Local American counterparts roamed freely as Rainbow moved under the Golden Gate bridge and into port, picking up a local pilot to guide her in. It had seemed that NSHQ underestimated the lengths that the United States would go to uphold its neutrality as when Hose pulled alongside, a gaggle of men wearing the uniform of American Customs Officers met him. Their firm statements reinforced by the pistols strapped to their hips, they informed Hose that belligerents were allowed enough coal to safely reach the nearest friendly port, Esquimalt in his case. As Rainbow had enough fuel to cruise in the area until August 10 and return to Esquimalt, the Americans initially denied him any refueling. After some drawn out arguing, Hose managed to wrangle 50 tons of coal out of the Americans after citing his fuel margins for safe passage were not adequate.
A photo of the South Farallon Island lighthouse, this gives an excellent view of the misty nature and treacherous nature of the surrounding area.
A meeting had already been arranged with the local British Consul General in regard to any additional intelligence but to the surprise of nobody, Hose received what he had expected. There was unreliable and spontaneous reports that Leipzig and Nurnberg were everywhere yet nowhere at once, the seemingly most reliable piece of intel stated Leipzig had been spotted coaling in Mexico 2 days ago. A stores ship was intended to meet Rainbow 2 miles south of the Farallon Islands in the coming days and as an excellent interception point for Leipzig or the sloops, Hose decided to patrol in this area for as long as possible. When informed about Rainbow’s fuel situation, the Consul General told Hose that he would attempt to get him coal somehow and would inform him by telegram if this was possible. After picking up four former Royal Navy rating present in the area, Hose departed the harbor at midnight and assumed his patrolling position. Through the mist and fog, Hose steered Rainbow on a course south of the Islands, waiting for any ships to cross his path. The ships crew worked diligently through the next day to jettison all of her flammable wood, trimmings and other non-essential articles into the ocean in preparation for combat. As this material floated towards the shore, locals reported Rainbow as being sunk off the coast. They would be correct, although early by a few days.
Concerning the supposed pair of German cruisers, only Leipzig was actually off the coast of North America at this point. While the British would not realize this until later, Nurnberg had rendezvoused with Graf Spee’s squadron in Ponape on August 6. Leipzig had been slowly moving up the coast, searching for any British shipping coming out of the major port of San Francisco. Fregattenkapitän Johannes Haun had strict orders to not harass any neutral flag American vessels and with his presence being known, British shipping in the area had become almost non-existent. Haun would later state in his book titled Leipzig: The Coastal Raider, “British shipping along the coast of North America had been paralyzed with fear. It seems our presence had been effective to the point of counter intuitiveness, merchantmen scattered across the horizon at the mere sight of our funnels and at both San Diego and San Francisco, the British hid themselves away nervously. I had hoped to find a belligerent flagged collier on the journey to San Francisco however, we had to wait substantially longer until our fuel stocks were replenished.” German intelligence had picked up on the presence of Rainbow after her dramatic entrance into San Francisco harbor and with local sources stating she would likely be patrolling in the area, Haun was faced with a dilemma. His vessel was certainly superior to the ancient Canadian training cruiser however, actively engaging such a ship would force him to use irreplaceable ammunition and risk damage to his own vessel. Both of these outcomes would bring a swift end to any aspirations of commerce raiding and cause him to likely be interned or forced to scuttle his ship. He faced a similar issue regarding the pair of sloops he had previously worked alongside off Mexico, although to a lesser degree. Haun was determined to only fight his Canadian opponent if he was forced to do so, although sinking one of the only remaining warships on the coast would essentially allow him unfettered access to all shipping and local infrastructure above the border.
A rather nice photo showing SMS Leipzig in Ponape, 1910. Her appearance was rather typical of the period with a distinctive ram bow and main battery gun placed around the ship in pedestal mounts.
A photo of the South Farallon Island lighthouse, this gives an excellent view of the misty nature and treacherous nature of the surrounding area.
A meeting had already been arranged with the local British Consul General in regard to any additional intelligence but to the surprise of nobody, Hose received what he had expected. There was unreliable and spontaneous reports that Leipzig and Nurnberg were everywhere yet nowhere at once, the seemingly most reliable piece of intel stated Leipzig had been spotted coaling in Mexico 2 days ago. A stores ship was intended to meet Rainbow 2 miles south of the Farallon Islands in the coming days and as an excellent interception point for Leipzig or the sloops, Hose decided to patrol in this area for as long as possible. When informed about Rainbow’s fuel situation, the Consul General told Hose that he would attempt to get him coal somehow and would inform him by telegram if this was possible. After picking up four former Royal Navy rating present in the area, Hose departed the harbor at midnight and assumed his patrolling position. Through the mist and fog, Hose steered Rainbow on a course south of the Islands, waiting for any ships to cross his path. The ships crew worked diligently through the next day to jettison all of her flammable wood, trimmings and other non-essential articles into the ocean in preparation for combat. As this material floated towards the shore, locals reported Rainbow as being sunk off the coast. They would be correct, although early by a few days.
Concerning the supposed pair of German cruisers, only Leipzig was actually off the coast of North America at this point. While the British would not realize this until later, Nurnberg had rendezvoused with Graf Spee’s squadron in Ponape on August 6. Leipzig had been slowly moving up the coast, searching for any British shipping coming out of the major port of San Francisco. Fregattenkapitän Johannes Haun had strict orders to not harass any neutral flag American vessels and with his presence being known, British shipping in the area had become almost non-existent. Haun would later state in his book titled Leipzig: The Coastal Raider, “British shipping along the coast of North America had been paralyzed with fear. It seems our presence had been effective to the point of counter intuitiveness, merchantmen scattered across the horizon at the mere sight of our funnels and at both San Diego and San Francisco, the British hid themselves away nervously. I had hoped to find a belligerent flagged collier on the journey to San Francisco however, we had to wait substantially longer until our fuel stocks were replenished.” German intelligence had picked up on the presence of Rainbow after her dramatic entrance into San Francisco harbor and with local sources stating she would likely be patrolling in the area, Haun was faced with a dilemma. His vessel was certainly superior to the ancient Canadian training cruiser however, actively engaging such a ship would force him to use irreplaceable ammunition and risk damage to his own vessel. Both of these outcomes would bring a swift end to any aspirations of commerce raiding and cause him to likely be interned or forced to scuttle his ship. He faced a similar issue regarding the pair of sloops he had previously worked alongside off Mexico, although to a lesser degree. Haun was determined to only fight his Canadian opponent if he was forced to do so, although sinking one of the only remaining warships on the coast would essentially allow him unfettered access to all shipping and local infrastructure above the border.
A rather nice photo showing SMS Leipzig in Ponape, 1910. Her appearance was rather typical of the period with a distinctive ram bow and main battery gun placed around the ship in pedestal mounts.
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i do wonder if the people who went through with that order will face repercussions, good or bad. im not sure if internal state governments are allowed to purchase warships for themselves or the nation as a whole.
If Leipzig goes North but gets torped by a sub, they will be heroes. If not, they get a slap on the wrist at worst and carry on.
As you say the province was not authorized to purchase warships but the Feds had been kept informed throughout and were dithering over it. McBride decided that given the tight timelines between the declaration of war and the US declaring neutrality that he had to act quickly and couldn't wait for Ottawa and so purchased the subs on his own initiative. They were handed over to the navy two days later and the Feds did reimburse the province for the purchase price.
There was an inquiry which concluded in 1917 as follows (taken from the CFB Esquimalt Museum website)
"What Sir Richard McBride did in those days of great anxiety, even distress, and what he accomplished deserves the commendation of his fellow countrymen. For his motives were those of patriotism; and his conduct that of an honourable man." -- Commissioner Sir Charles Davidson.
Very good comment and question from Wobbly. McBride was rather anxious about the entire situation. His daughter described how her father informed the family of the whole story after they had eaten dinner. McBride was apparently be concerned to the point where he did not go to bed, spending the entirety of the night nervously pacing throughout the house before departing at dawn to Esquimalt. The fallout of the submarine purchase will be expanded upon in alter chapters alongside their involvement or lack of involvement in the upcoming conflict. Their performance will very much be the lynchpin that the Canadian Submarine service uses to stay alive or die a painful death.
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ok thank you that explains a bit more i was somewhat confused for a bit. the problem surroundin us neutrality are definitely very interesting and from the other stories i have seen it seems to be very good for some drama. i hope the submariners get their day in the sun so to speak.
Fowl Play
August 10, 1914. HMCS Rainbow, waters off the Farallon Islands.
Throughout the two days they had been at sea, the crew of Rainbow had become painstakingly familiar with one thing, fog. As they slowly made their way around the area surrounding the islands, visibility seemed to be changing with the flip of a coin. They would break out into the still blazing autumn sun and as quickly as they did, they'd be found rolling into yet another identical cloud of all-encompassing mist. The exhausted men had been at high alert for days, either for their store ship from Esquimalt or the supposed German cruiser making its way up the coast. Crew members gazed longingly into the muggy haze, blissfully unaware of the pair of young ratings briskly strolling along the superstructure behind them. George Blanchet had finally been released from the galley for a short period and was hoping to get some fresh air, only to be met by this dreary sight.
“What did ya want me for anyway Georgie me lad?”
George motioned for his companion to stop as they reached an open doorway into the superstructure. Able Seaman Murphy still stared inquisitively, his red hair peeking out from under his cap somewhat.
The older brother glanced around before he spoke, “You said you are tired of eating nothing but salt pork and bully beef right?” Murphy nodded quickly, “Good, then stay right here and make sure nobody comes into the storeroom.”
The conniving young Frenchman had been cooking up this scheme for the last few days and after finding a suitable friend like Murphy, he had a little Irishman to protect his flank. On one of his many trips between the storeroom and the galley, he had noticed there was a chicken coop neatly tucked away in behind the crates of hardtack. Word around the ship was the officers purchased and kept them aboard to supplement their own food stocks. He had previously brainstormed the idea of lowering a fish hook down through the galley skylight and swiping a prepared chicken right off the stove, that idea was quickly discarded as not the best plan. With the few spare moments of his time, George had found out when the Junior Steward's Assistant arrived to feed the birds and the fact that any dead birds would be taken to the rail and ejected over the side. With these things in mind, George had been feeding one of the plump white hen’s bacon rinds from his hand for the past 2 days, to the point where she would come running to the side of the cage whenever he was spotted. Propping open the top of the coop as he had done many a time before, the hen came clucking his way. There was no scraps this time as the boy quickly wrapped one hand around the beak of fowl, muffling the clucking as he produced a wine bottle cork from his pocket. Plunging downwards into the brain of the bird with his free hand, it’s cries soon stopped. The sewing needle he had previously set deep into the cork had work marvelously. With the dastardly deed done, George slinked back to his waiting companion on deck.
“Nobody has been paying me any attention, seems they are too busy on lookout duties.” Murphy said, nervously rubbing his hands together. “What were you doing in there?”
“You’ll see in a few minutes.”
Just on schedule, the assistant must have arrived for feeding time judging from the squawking emanating from the bulkhead. One of the men he had talked to previously was completely correct, the stewards never ate the birds they tossed overboard as they were not subjected to the food of the enlisted men, they ate with the officers. With dead bird in hand and a look of contempt on his face, the man stepped out onto the deck. Before he could finish his beeline for the side of the ship and send the recently deceased chicken to a watery grave, George quickly stepped up alongside him.
“What happened to that bird sir?”
He stopped mid stride and cocked his head, “You mean this thing? Some of the fowl don’t take too kindly to these close confinements, they come down with disease from time to time or simply exhaust themselves to the point of dying. Can’t have the officers eating tainted bird, the fish will be well fed though.”
“Me and the mates could use something besides salt pork.” George said as he purposefully dropped his gaze to the deck, “A bit of fowl would do some good I think.”
The steward shot a look of half confusion, half disgust at the lowly Seamen before shrugging his shoulders and handing over the bird. “Well if you want to risk eating diseased poultry, take it.”
Once the officer was out of earshot, the Frenchman turned to his speechless contemporary and let out a beaming smile. “Look’s like I got us and the boys some lunch!”
Authors Note: Hello everybody, this will be the last chapter before the point of deviation which should be posted on Monday. Thanks for sticking with me up until this point and hopefully into the future alongside my timeline as well!
Throughout the two days they had been at sea, the crew of Rainbow had become painstakingly familiar with one thing, fog. As they slowly made their way around the area surrounding the islands, visibility seemed to be changing with the flip of a coin. They would break out into the still blazing autumn sun and as quickly as they did, they'd be found rolling into yet another identical cloud of all-encompassing mist. The exhausted men had been at high alert for days, either for their store ship from Esquimalt or the supposed German cruiser making its way up the coast. Crew members gazed longingly into the muggy haze, blissfully unaware of the pair of young ratings briskly strolling along the superstructure behind them. George Blanchet had finally been released from the galley for a short period and was hoping to get some fresh air, only to be met by this dreary sight.
“What did ya want me for anyway Georgie me lad?”
George motioned for his companion to stop as they reached an open doorway into the superstructure. Able Seaman Murphy still stared inquisitively, his red hair peeking out from under his cap somewhat.
The older brother glanced around before he spoke, “You said you are tired of eating nothing but salt pork and bully beef right?” Murphy nodded quickly, “Good, then stay right here and make sure nobody comes into the storeroom.”
The conniving young Frenchman had been cooking up this scheme for the last few days and after finding a suitable friend like Murphy, he had a little Irishman to protect his flank. On one of his many trips between the storeroom and the galley, he had noticed there was a chicken coop neatly tucked away in behind the crates of hardtack. Word around the ship was the officers purchased and kept them aboard to supplement their own food stocks. He had previously brainstormed the idea of lowering a fish hook down through the galley skylight and swiping a prepared chicken right off the stove, that idea was quickly discarded as not the best plan. With the few spare moments of his time, George had found out when the Junior Steward's Assistant arrived to feed the birds and the fact that any dead birds would be taken to the rail and ejected over the side. With these things in mind, George had been feeding one of the plump white hen’s bacon rinds from his hand for the past 2 days, to the point where she would come running to the side of the cage whenever he was spotted. Propping open the top of the coop as he had done many a time before, the hen came clucking his way. There was no scraps this time as the boy quickly wrapped one hand around the beak of fowl, muffling the clucking as he produced a wine bottle cork from his pocket. Plunging downwards into the brain of the bird with his free hand, it’s cries soon stopped. The sewing needle he had previously set deep into the cork had work marvelously. With the dastardly deed done, George slinked back to his waiting companion on deck.
“Nobody has been paying me any attention, seems they are too busy on lookout duties.” Murphy said, nervously rubbing his hands together. “What were you doing in there?”
“You’ll see in a few minutes.”
Just on schedule, the assistant must have arrived for feeding time judging from the squawking emanating from the bulkhead. One of the men he had talked to previously was completely correct, the stewards never ate the birds they tossed overboard as they were not subjected to the food of the enlisted men, they ate with the officers. With dead bird in hand and a look of contempt on his face, the man stepped out onto the deck. Before he could finish his beeline for the side of the ship and send the recently deceased chicken to a watery grave, George quickly stepped up alongside him.
“What happened to that bird sir?”
He stopped mid stride and cocked his head, “You mean this thing? Some of the fowl don’t take too kindly to these close confinements, they come down with disease from time to time or simply exhaust themselves to the point of dying. Can’t have the officers eating tainted bird, the fish will be well fed though.”
“Me and the mates could use something besides salt pork.” George said as he purposefully dropped his gaze to the deck, “A bit of fowl would do some good I think.”
The steward shot a look of half confusion, half disgust at the lowly Seamen before shrugging his shoulders and handing over the bird. “Well if you want to risk eating diseased poultry, take it.”
Once the officer was out of earshot, the Frenchman turned to his speechless contemporary and let out a beaming smile. “Look’s like I got us and the boys some lunch!”
Authors Note: Hello everybody, this will be the last chapter before the point of deviation which should be posted on Monday. Thanks for sticking with me up until this point and hopefully into the future alongside my timeline as well!
I anxiously await the POD, and honestly haven’t minded the OTL history lesson, I know next to nothing about the RCN of the period, so the background knowledge and setup, even if it took a bit of time to get through, is very helpful and makes it so everyone knows what’s going on. Keep it up!
the crew of rainbow definitley are not in a great spot being exhausted on watch for this long of a period but if they are lucky a night battle or a fight in the fog might help them out but a day battle on open seas would likely be their certain doom. I have to agree with @CV(N)-6 with how excited I am for the next chapter, it has definitely been a good time coming. the history lesson has been very nice as im rather clueless about the commonwealth navies and their politics but it has dragged on a bit, i am ready for action! all this has made me wonder how the canadian navy might come out of this looking like, perhaps like Australia during or after the war?
I appreciate the feedback! I tried to give some fairly detailed background to the situation of the RCN but with hindsight, @Wobbly Whirlwind is correct in it dragging on a bit too long I think. I think the content was valuable nonetheless but we lost momentum with the story. Regardless, I look forward to finally getting some of my ideas out into the open. I think they should be rather interesting, especially the events directly following the next few chapters
[POD] The Battle of the Farallon Islands Part I
August 11, 1914. HMCS Rainbow, 6 nautical miles South of the Farallon Islands.
“There she is again sir.” The lookout on the opposite bridge wing called to Commander Hose, “That pesky steamer is circling us like a fly does a carcass.”
Hose had long ago stopped hiding his facial expressions, an annoyed frown once again creeping across his visage. The SS Mongolia slid into view off her stern, just long enough to see that silhouette of her rusty frame before disappearing once again. For the last 2 days, the American flagged ship had been pestering them everywhere they went. The Counsel General remarked that while she was American owned, the president of her parent company was in fact German. It would have given Hose great satisfaction to haul her alongside and tear apart every section of her internals with a boarding party, although keeping goodwill with the neutral Americans was of higher priority. Even with the surrounding fog, Hose felt incredibly exposed. Mongolia and the Farallon Islands wireless station had been broadcasting Rainbow’s position en clair for quite sometime now, certainly any enterprising German merchantmen or worse, cruisers, would have known his general location for many a day now. The only thing keeping the Rainbow in the area this long had been the promise of coal by the Counsel General. He had informed Hose back on August 7 that he would attempt to acquire coal for him, but Hose never thought he would actually come through. It must have taken some rather extensive convincing and political skulduggery to put these plans in motion but a day previous and just before Hose was planning to make way for Esquimalt, an encoded message arrived. The Consul General had arranged for a British flagged merchantman to meet them south of the Farallon Islands, this ship was officially chartered to take an emergency shipment of 500 tons of coal to Acapulco, Mexico. If she just happened to stumble upon a friendly warship in desperate need of coal, well the situation was out of the General's hands at that point. It had been an arduous task to organize with American customs officials breathing down his neck but the Consul had assured Hose the ship would be arriving within 24-48 hours.
Hose himself had taken a monumental leap of faith by staying at sea with such minimal coal, his reserves could have taken him back to Canada if he had left the day previously but now, he needed that collier. The Consul had been very clear that the shipment was departing shortly but the added anxiety was slowly eating the Commander alive. The crew was incredibly weary at this point, Hose had tried to get them plenty of hot meals and sleep but the rather stressful crewing situation and constant watches into empty fog was likely playing hell with their minds. Even with the skeleton crew though, Hose had remained diligent to ensure Rainbow was as ready as humanly possible for any engagements. In order to properly crew the ships pair of 6”/40 main guns and spattering of 4.7”/40 guns, he had stripped the crews away from the 12 pdr anti-torpedo boat guns and the torpedo tubes. Neither would be particularly useful in an engagement with an enemy cruiser, especially not the 14” torpedoes Rainbow carried aboard. The 1890’s vintage weapons lacked gyroscopes and could only be expected to hit a ship at 1000 yards in perhaps a mansions swimming pool. Maintaining proper ammunition supply to his main guns was key, the gunpowder filled shells would be unlikely to do very much individually but a high rate of fire could see a handful actually exploding.
His internal monologue was cut short by a silhouette looming out of the haze dead ahead, Hose snapped his binoculars up to hopefully get a clearer view. They had just passed the Mongolia a few minutes prior, could this be his tender from Esquimalt or the collier sent by the Consul General? As he opened his mouth to acknowledge the contact, the lookout far above in the foremast let out a cry.
“Vessel sighted dead ahead! Distance approximately 4.5 miles.”
This was the very situation most Captains dreaded. These precious few minutes could mean the difference between a decisive first strike and a disastrous defeat. As much as he wanted to start immediately blasting away, his current heading only allowed his fore 6" gun to fire and without positive identification, the outcome could be disastrous. If this was an American warship on neutrality patrol, preemptively opening fire could result in a diplomatic disaster and certain career suicide, if he even made it ashore alive. Rainbow had to stay the course for the moment.
“Maintain current heading.” Hose bellowed as his mind raced, he could do nothing but wait until the fog cleared just enough to establish an identity. He had personally drilled lookouts on the tell-tale traits of Leipzig and Nurnberg until their brains had turned numb, a pronounced ram bow, a cruiser stern, and a trio of funnels. The Commander stood on the port bridge wing and felt the minutes creep by, each agonizing second giving his mind more time to race uncontrollably. Every scenario he could think of, his performance, his career, his family, his crew, their families, the ship he stood on, Hose felt like the weight of the world was coming down on his shoulders.
From on high, the lookout delivered the words Hose never wanted to hear.
“Vessel appears to be a warship, 3 funnels and a ram bow!”
The lookout on the opposite bridge wing confirmed the sighting, followed by Hose a moment later. It was one of the German cruisers surely, their tropical paint scheme and unmistakable features were now partially visible.
“All hands to action stations, full speed ahead! Steer 12 points to port and clear the aft gun for firing!”
Hose yelled into the wheelhouse as Rainbow dug in her stern and kicked her rudder to port, almost giving the navigator a heart attack as he did.
“Tell the Chief Engineer to give us every revolution he can get out of her, we need to close the range as quickly as possible!”
If he could seize the element of surprise and bring down the range, the German's advantage in training and distance would be partially negated, perhaps long enough to score a decisive blow. Gun crews quickly swung the broadside 4.7” guns out seaward in anticipation. While their uniforms contrasted each other with mismatched Atlantic darks and Pacific whites, their pearly flash hoods clung to them uniformly. They dutifully passed ammunition and charges up to the guns from the bowels of the ship, the trains of men sneaking whatever view they could to sea while they still could.
“Aft gun is clear sir, range is approximately 8,700 yards.”
Hose had caught an early break; his enemy was at least somewhat unaware of his location and he was already well within maximum range of both his main and secondary batteries. He was not especially optimistic they would retain this advantage but fortune did favor the bold. He would strike while he still could and god willing, he would strike hard. As he prepared to give the fateful order, the previous Admiralty telegram snaked it’s way through his head.
‘Remember Nelson and the British Navy. All Canada is watching’
Never in his life did he expect to share traits with Lord Nelson of all people. He would surely die like Nelson before him but it would be up to history if they saw him fit to be made a hero. Of all that could be and has been said of HMCS Rainbow, she would be the first to engage on that day.
“Open fire!”
6"/40 gun of Rainbow preparing for firing drills.
www.navweaps.com
www.navweaps.com
dreadnoughtproject.org
“There she is again sir.” The lookout on the opposite bridge wing called to Commander Hose, “That pesky steamer is circling us like a fly does a carcass.”
Hose had long ago stopped hiding his facial expressions, an annoyed frown once again creeping across his visage. The SS Mongolia slid into view off her stern, just long enough to see that silhouette of her rusty frame before disappearing once again. For the last 2 days, the American flagged ship had been pestering them everywhere they went. The Counsel General remarked that while she was American owned, the president of her parent company was in fact German. It would have given Hose great satisfaction to haul her alongside and tear apart every section of her internals with a boarding party, although keeping goodwill with the neutral Americans was of higher priority. Even with the surrounding fog, Hose felt incredibly exposed. Mongolia and the Farallon Islands wireless station had been broadcasting Rainbow’s position en clair for quite sometime now, certainly any enterprising German merchantmen or worse, cruisers, would have known his general location for many a day now. The only thing keeping the Rainbow in the area this long had been the promise of coal by the Counsel General. He had informed Hose back on August 7 that he would attempt to acquire coal for him, but Hose never thought he would actually come through. It must have taken some rather extensive convincing and political skulduggery to put these plans in motion but a day previous and just before Hose was planning to make way for Esquimalt, an encoded message arrived. The Consul General had arranged for a British flagged merchantman to meet them south of the Farallon Islands, this ship was officially chartered to take an emergency shipment of 500 tons of coal to Acapulco, Mexico. If she just happened to stumble upon a friendly warship in desperate need of coal, well the situation was out of the General's hands at that point. It had been an arduous task to organize with American customs officials breathing down his neck but the Consul had assured Hose the ship would be arriving within 24-48 hours.
Hose himself had taken a monumental leap of faith by staying at sea with such minimal coal, his reserves could have taken him back to Canada if he had left the day previously but now, he needed that collier. The Consul had been very clear that the shipment was departing shortly but the added anxiety was slowly eating the Commander alive. The crew was incredibly weary at this point, Hose had tried to get them plenty of hot meals and sleep but the rather stressful crewing situation and constant watches into empty fog was likely playing hell with their minds. Even with the skeleton crew though, Hose had remained diligent to ensure Rainbow was as ready as humanly possible for any engagements. In order to properly crew the ships pair of 6”/40 main guns and spattering of 4.7”/40 guns, he had stripped the crews away from the 12 pdr anti-torpedo boat guns and the torpedo tubes. Neither would be particularly useful in an engagement with an enemy cruiser, especially not the 14” torpedoes Rainbow carried aboard. The 1890’s vintage weapons lacked gyroscopes and could only be expected to hit a ship at 1000 yards in perhaps a mansions swimming pool. Maintaining proper ammunition supply to his main guns was key, the gunpowder filled shells would be unlikely to do very much individually but a high rate of fire could see a handful actually exploding.
His internal monologue was cut short by a silhouette looming out of the haze dead ahead, Hose snapped his binoculars up to hopefully get a clearer view. They had just passed the Mongolia a few minutes prior, could this be his tender from Esquimalt or the collier sent by the Consul General? As he opened his mouth to acknowledge the contact, the lookout far above in the foremast let out a cry.
“Vessel sighted dead ahead! Distance approximately 4.5 miles.”
This was the very situation most Captains dreaded. These precious few minutes could mean the difference between a decisive first strike and a disastrous defeat. As much as he wanted to start immediately blasting away, his current heading only allowed his fore 6" gun to fire and without positive identification, the outcome could be disastrous. If this was an American warship on neutrality patrol, preemptively opening fire could result in a diplomatic disaster and certain career suicide, if he even made it ashore alive. Rainbow had to stay the course for the moment.
“Maintain current heading.” Hose bellowed as his mind raced, he could do nothing but wait until the fog cleared just enough to establish an identity. He had personally drilled lookouts on the tell-tale traits of Leipzig and Nurnberg until their brains had turned numb, a pronounced ram bow, a cruiser stern, and a trio of funnels. The Commander stood on the port bridge wing and felt the minutes creep by, each agonizing second giving his mind more time to race uncontrollably. Every scenario he could think of, his performance, his career, his family, his crew, their families, the ship he stood on, Hose felt like the weight of the world was coming down on his shoulders.
From on high, the lookout delivered the words Hose never wanted to hear.
“Vessel appears to be a warship, 3 funnels and a ram bow!”
The lookout on the opposite bridge wing confirmed the sighting, followed by Hose a moment later. It was one of the German cruisers surely, their tropical paint scheme and unmistakable features were now partially visible.
“All hands to action stations, full speed ahead! Steer 12 points to port and clear the aft gun for firing!”
Hose yelled into the wheelhouse as Rainbow dug in her stern and kicked her rudder to port, almost giving the navigator a heart attack as he did.
“Tell the Chief Engineer to give us every revolution he can get out of her, we need to close the range as quickly as possible!”
If he could seize the element of surprise and bring down the range, the German's advantage in training and distance would be partially negated, perhaps long enough to score a decisive blow. Gun crews quickly swung the broadside 4.7” guns out seaward in anticipation. While their uniforms contrasted each other with mismatched Atlantic darks and Pacific whites, their pearly flash hoods clung to them uniformly. They dutifully passed ammunition and charges up to the guns from the bowels of the ship, the trains of men sneaking whatever view they could to sea while they still could.
“Aft gun is clear sir, range is approximately 8,700 yards.”
Hose had caught an early break; his enemy was at least somewhat unaware of his location and he was already well within maximum range of both his main and secondary batteries. He was not especially optimistic they would retain this advantage but fortune did favor the bold. He would strike while he still could and god willing, he would strike hard. As he prepared to give the fateful order, the previous Admiralty telegram snaked it’s way through his head.
‘Remember Nelson and the British Navy. All Canada is watching’
Never in his life did he expect to share traits with Lord Nelson of all people. He would surely die like Nelson before him but it would be up to history if they saw him fit to be made a hero. Of all that could be and has been said of HMCS Rainbow, she would be the first to engage on that day.
“Open fire!”
6"/40 gun of Rainbow preparing for firing drills.
Britain 6"/40 (15.2 cm) QF Marks I, II and III - NavWeaps
Britain, Italy and Japan 4.7-inch (12 cm) QF Guns - NavWeaps
14-in Mark IX Torpedo (UK) - The Dreadnought Project
It can be almost certain there is no mistaken identity. The United States is sorely lacking in small, fairly fast modern cruisers meaning there is little chance for misidentification. The only types of US cruisers with a similar number of funnels are either drastically larger armored/protected cruisers or have otherwise distinguishing features that should prevent “Friendly fire”.