Aug 21, 1030 hours.
SMS Leipzig, Georgia Strait, off Powell River.
Leipzig was steaming on an east–northeast course, so Haun could see the pulp and paper mill at Powell River from 10 nautical miles away, between unpopulated Harwood Island, and Blubber Bay on the northern end of Texada Island. Haun brought the cruiser up to her full speed of 22 knots. At this rate of speed
Leipzig would cover the distance in 27 minutes.
Through Haun’s binoculars, the pulp and paper mill complex was expansive. A patch of the endless forested coastline was denuded of trees and topsoil. In the middle, wide flat-roofed buildings covered with windows, stepped up the bank, connected to one another by covered ramps. A large stack emitted a white smoke cloud that dispersed to obscure the landscape behind. To the left, the north, was a 200 metre long dam with a central spillway and penstocks running down into the mill buildings. Left of the dam two storage tanks labeled with the numerals 2 and 1 sat on a bench gouged out of the hillside. To the right of the mill buildings, the company townsite of small peaked-roofed houses stood on a bare hillside, overlooking the mill pond. Logs ascended from a millpond up a ramp into another long industrial building. The millpond was bounded by jetties and contained several acres of floating logs. A rail line ran down the slope to the L- shaped wharf that served the mill. At the wharf was moored a steam freighter of 4000-odd tons with a single funnel, flying a red ensign, and a smaller coastal steamer.
“The Union Steamship
Cheakamus, and a ship of the Moor line, registered in London England,” commented Mueller. The freighter looked to be vigorously raising steam.
“The Powell River Company aspires to be the worlds largest producer of paper,” said Mueller, “and they are well on their way to getting there.”
Haun regarded the piles of earth all about the site, and the ragged tops of shiplap board formwork. “Under construction,” he said. “Everything in this part of the word is under construction.” His gaze strayed to the north, where the large concrete dam was tucked in between a hill and the mill site. “We could empty our magazines into the face of that dam and have no effect.” Haun said to the gunnery officer. “But the spillway structure looks like a weak spot.”
“Powell River,” said Mueller, “the river itself, is said to be the shortest river in the world.”
“The shortest river?” Haun began.
“Yes, you are looking at all of it,” Mueller replied. “From the lake to the sea, one kilometer.”
Leipzig stayed on course, and the miles and minutes ticked by. “What is that freighter up to?” Haun asked. The freighter had gotten steam up and pulled away from the mill wharf. Haun could now read
Zurichmoor on the ships’ bow. But instead of turning away and running to the north or south, the ship had turned west, and was on a heading directly toward
Leipzig, currently at a range of 8000 metres
. The German cruiser was now passing Blubber Bay on the north end of Texada Island.
“Blubber Bay over there was a whaling station,” said Mueller, “but now it is a limestone quarry.” A pleasing townsite served the quarry, with arbutus trees shading the small houses. Chimneys for the sintering furnaces of the cement works rose here and there. Workers watched Leipzig pass by from the shore.
“That freighter is still approaching us,” observed Haun. “Is it on a collision course? It is. Signals, send that ship the standard challenge.”
Leipzig sent STOP AND ABANDON SHIP YOU WILL BE SUNK BY GUNFIRE, by semaphore and, when that produced no result, a minute later by wireless. Haun looked through his binoculars at the bridge of the
Zurichmoor, and immediately noticed the stance of the captain on the bridge wing. Steely and immovable, gripping the rail.
“If it was not completely insane, I would say he intends to ram us,” said Haun. “Helm, two degrees to port.”
“We cannot turn to port, there is a reef,” warned Mueller.
“Alright. Helm, two degrees to starboard. Guns, fire a warning shot.” The freighter made a corresponding course change, to remain aimed strait at Leipzig. The number one gun fired, and a waterspout rose off the
Zurichmoor’s bow. The freighter did not react. The distance continued to close. In the three minutes, since
Liepzig’s challenge was first sent, range had closed to 5500 metres.
“Fire another warning shot,” ordered Haun. “That ship can’t be doing more than 10 knots. What is he thinking? British bloodymindedness!”
Another warning shot was fired, and ignored. The
Zurichmoor continued to close.
Finally Haun ordered, “Fire on that ship’s waterline!” And so began the engagement that was later known as the August 21 Action in Algerine Passage. The setting was a patch of water roughly two nautical miles by three, bounded by Harwood Island to the north, Texada Island to the south, and the mainland coast with the town and mill of Powell River to the east.
Zurichmoor charged headlong at
Leipzig. The German cruiser used her superior speed and maneuverability to keep 1000-2000 meters distant, while pouring fire at the freighter’s waterline. With
Zurichmoor only capable of 10 knots, and throwing off much of that when she made a tight turn, the engagement happened at a leisurely pace.
“Helm, let’s make sure we have sea room. We don’t want to get pinned against the shoreline.” Mueller gave the helmsman directions to avoid reefs and shallows.
“Have you ever been to a bullfight?” Haun asked his first lieutenant. “I managed to see one when we were on Mexico station. It unfolded much like this. And, like this, the result was a foregone conclusion. Guns! Have the battery facing away from this maniac fire some warning shots for the pulp and paper mills. They are going to need some time to evacuate those giant buildings.”
Zurichmoor took several hits forward initially, as she presented bow-on. Then the ships started to circle, and
Leipzig was able to direct her fire along the length of the freighter’s waterline.
Zurichmoor returned fire with distress rockets, one of which struck
Leipzig’s forward searchlight platform and started a canvas cover on fire, and also fired a line-throwing rocket, minus line, which stuck into the German’s number two funnel like a dart in a dart board. Haun looked at the British captain on his bridge through his binoculars. He half expected to see the captain shaking his fist at Haun, but instead the
Zurichmoor’s captain stood as still as a statue, making a credible attempt to sink
Leipzig with his frosty gaze alone.
Leipzig’s gunfire soon began to tell, and the
Zurichmoor took on a list to starboard. Something in the forward hold, perhaps wood pulp or paper, began to burn. Finally, at 1058 hours a hit amidships produced a burst of white steam, and the freighter lost way.
Zurichmoor’s lifeboats were intact, what with the German fire being aimed at the ship’s waterline, and soon the boats were being lowered. Haun noticed some crew being carried into the boats. Most of the wounded men looked to be wearing coveralls.
“The steam,” Haun said, and he shuddered to think of the effect of a burst steam line on the men in the machinery spaces. The now drifting, burning freighter’s list increased. Haun would not have been surprised to see the captain of the
Zurichmoor standing stock still on the bridge wing until the water closed over his head, but the stubborn captain did take to the last boat, being the last man to board.
“Let’s turn our attention back to the pulp and paper mills, shall we,” Haun said, and looked to the east. The coastal steamer
Cheakamus had now pulled away from the dock, but this ship took the more prudent path of steaming off to the north, away from the Germans. The bay in front of the mills was marked with concentric waves where Leipzig’s warning shots had landed. Firebells could be heard ringing across the water. Crowds of men fled out from exits on all aspects of the complex. Leipzig closed to within 3000 metres of the mill site, and as she took her station, the streams of men evacuating the buildings had trailed off to nothing.
After the curious sea battle, the bombardment of the Powell River Company mill seemed anticlimactic. Leipzig’s first salvos were aimed at the flood gates of the dam, and only three broadsides were required to dismount the gate from its lifting mechanism and instigate an unstoppable deluge. The gunfire then was shifted to the mill buildings. A dozen broadsides managed to collapse some of the structures and start numerous fires. A variety of different colours of smoke rose from the various blazes, depending on what industrial materials happened to be feeding the flames. The digester tower released thick green vapours when its tanks were riddled with shell splinters.
Secondary explosions rocked the mill site, including the burst boiler of an idling locomotive struck by a 10.5 cm shell. A building at the north end of the mill released a torrent of water when it was hit, and Haun realized this had been the hydroelectric power house and turbine hall. The water pouring from the ruined building extinguished some of the fires below it on the waterfront, and slowed the spread of others, producing a heavy wet grey-black mixture of smoke and steam that soon hid the mill from view.
“We can’t see what we are firing at any more,” said Haun. “I believe it is time to go. Helm, take us south.” Then he added. “Guns, fire on that warehouse on the wharf. And those storage tanks on the hillside there. They are bound to be filled with something important.” After two salvos, the long warehouse building began to burn, and the fire accelerated quickly, apparently fed by stacks of paper products. The storage tanks received several salvos as Leipzig moved south. One tank seemed to be empty, but the other proved to be partly full of fuel oil. The tank burned fiercely with orange flame and thick black smoke, exploding into a rising fireball a number of times, and adding another column of smoke to the devastation
Leipzig left in her wake.
The Germans now headed south, between Texada Island and the mainland. “That is Van Anda to port there,” said Mueller, pointing to a small cove on the Eastern Shore of Texada five miles distant. “There is a smelter there serving the island’s copper mines.” Haun could see the sloped roofs and smoke stacks on the point, the wharf with loading equipment, and to the west, the frontier wooden commercial downtown. The residents there would have had a full view of the bombardment of Powell River. A scow was moored at the wharf. A steam tug hugged the shore headed south, having just left Van Anda a few minutes before.
“That smelter looks small,” said Haun. Indeed, after the sprawling mills of Powell River, the operations at Van Anda did look diminutive. “Do we need to bombard such a small operation? That engagement with the suicidal freighter had put us behind schedule.”
“You are the captain,” said Mueller. “But I do recall Captain Von Schönberg and Herr Meyer agreeing that copper is the most important war material that British Columbia produces. And more copper comes out of the mines on this island than the size of that smelter would suggest.”
“Yes, yes,” said Haun. “You are quite right.”
To the east, the abandoned
Zurichmoor seemed to have drifted up on a reef in mid channel before sinking completely, and sat there smouldering with her decks awash and a list of 45 degrees. The rock bears the ship’s name to this day. The wreck was soon hidden behind Grilse Point as
Leipzig steamed south towards Van Anda. The
Zurichmoor’s lifeboats were nowhere to be seen, although Haun had noticed them rowing in the direction of Blubber Bay before he became engrossed in directing the bombardment.
“Guns, range to that smelter?” Haun requested.
“5000 metres,” answered the gunnery officer.
“Fire a couple of warning shots off the town,” Haun ordered. The number 2 gun sounded, a waterspout rose in the cove, and this bombardment went much the same as others had. The population seemed to have made themselves scarce by the time Leipzig approached to 2000 meters. Only four salvos were needed to knock over one of the smokestacks and start the mill on fire. Another salvo stove in the side of the wooden hulled scow, and it rolled over beside the wharf, as Leipzig fired another couple of salvos at the wharf itself and accessory buildings. Again, the creosote wharf timbers took flame well once a fire was kindled. A breeze had come up off the water, and as Leipzig pulled away, the wharf fire threw up sparks that landed on the roofs of the adjacent blocks of the downtown. Within a few minutes, as Haun watched with dismay, an opera house, a hotel, and a newspaper office were on fire, and the blaze promised to spread quickly with the wooden buildings on the main street packed chock-a-block together.
“Oh dear,” Haun said. “That was not my intention. I suppose this will lead to another newspaper account of Devilish Hun Terrorizes Civilians.”
“I expect it will,” said Mueller. “But that town has a habit of burning down. It has happened four times already. I’m sure they will have it all build back right quick, just in time for the next fire.”
“Bring us up to 22 knots!” ordered Haun, “It is time to meet back up with
Nürnberg.” Leipzig moved out to the center of Malaspina Strait and steamed south east with the mainland of British Columbia to port and Texada Island to starboard. Behind, the twin smoke columns marking the location of Powell River and Van Anda shrank as the cruiser came up to full speed. The smoke from the Vanada fire continued to grow.
“I think we may have started a forest fire back at Van Anda,” said Mueller.
Farther away to the west, distant smoke columns rose over the mountains of Texada Island from the locations of Union Bay, Nanaimo, and Ladysmith, and blended together to produce blue layers of haze. Dead ahead, Haun imagined he could detect smoke in the direction of Vancouver, 45 miles away, but that was probably impossible.
RBCM Archives
search-bcarchives.royalbcmuseum.bc.ca
www.texadaheritagesociety.com
I mean the company is going to want to be SURE they were serious or they might charge you for dereliction of duty or some such.
