The Rainbow. A World War One on Canada's West Coast Timeline
- Thread starter YYJ
- Start date
Some Wagner
Aug 21, 0445 hours, SMS Nürnberg, Boundary Pass
“Ship!” cried a lookout.
“Guns!” ordered Von Schönberg. “Prepare to fire!”
A steamer was emerging from behind American Waldron Island, ahead of the squadron and to the south-east. The vessel was really only visible as a dark shape moving against the dark backdrop of Orcas Island behind.
“Single funnel, no lights, armed, range 6000 meters,” called out the lookout. “In American waters.”
“Guns! Stand down!” ordered Von Schönberg. “Train fore and aft. Helm, keep our heading. Bring us back up to 18 knots.” The Germans were coming out of the confines of the shipping channel through the southern Gulf Islands and into the more open waters of Georgia Strait. They could not yet come up to full speed, since they would soon have to make several turns to follow the line of the International boundary and avoid straying into American waters. Especially now that the Americans are observing, though Von Schönberg.
“Wireless reports transmission, sir,” reported a sailor, “most likely from the unknown vessel. Message appears to be in code. Shall we jam sir?”
“No,” replied Von Schönberg. “Leave be.”
The mystery ship turned north-east, to match the squadron’s course, and turned on her running lights. “Unknown ship is approximately 1000 tons displacement,” called the lookout. “50 meters in length. Two guns forward, one aft.” Minutes passed. The Germans squadron swiftly overtook the American vessel, despite the latter producing an impressive amount of smoke from its tall single stack. To the east an orange glow showed the location of the city of Bellingham, in Washington State. Behind, with the morning’s light starting to define the edges of the sky, the silhouette of Mount Baker’s volcanic cone dominated the eastern skyline.
At 0500 hours, on Mueller’s instructions, Von Schönberg ordered a course change to due north. The squadron rounded East Point on Saturna Island with its flashing lighthouse a mere 2000 meters distant. The American vessel also turned north, following the International boundary, attempting to maintain its relative position of to the German squadron, but continuing to fall behind.
“Unknown vessel is flying stars and stripes,” reported the lookout. “Name on bow is USRC Unalga. Ship seems to be making no more than 12 or 13 knots. ”
“The American has not signaled us,” noted Von Schönberg. “They seem content to just follow the boundary, and make sure we stay outside.
When 0515 hours came, Von Schönberg ordered a turn to the north-west, and the ships accelerated to 20 knots. Unalga continued faithfully to shadow the Germans, but now rapidly fell astern. Before them, in rising light, was laid out the Strait of Georgia, an inland sea separating Vancouver Island from the mainland of British Columbia. This body of water was the highway for the province’s industry. At this hour, on this morning, it was smooth as glass. Ahead, at the narrowest spot between Point Roberts and Mayne Island, the Strait was 9 miles across, but it soon opened wider. A smoky haze to the north was lit by the pre-dawn light.
“Vancouver,” said Von Schönberg. “That is where we are bound. Ah, what a morning it is. And this sea state is particularly good for spotting periscopes.”
To the north, the mountains behind the city brooded in dark green, the low light casting the valleys in deep shadow. To the east, the sky was lighting up pink and orange over the Fraser River valley. In the ships’ wakes, to the south, the cones of Mount Baker and more distantly, Mount Rainier, loomed above all the other terrain, their eastern faces already catching the rising sun. Gulls fell into formation alongside the squadron, effortlessly keeping up where the hapless Unalga was unable.
“Ship!” called a lookout. “Dead ahead!”
A smaller cloud of smoke had separated from the smudge of Vancouver’s urban pall.
“Steamer,” continued the lookout. “Distance approx. 15 nautical miles. Oriented end on, so details unclear. Appears to be a on southerly heading.”
Von Schönberg took his own binoculars to survey the oncoming ship. The unidentified steamer appeared to be a merchant, and was just off the mouth of the North Arm of the mighty Fraser River, where it met salt water south of Vancouver. “Soon we shall have a better view,” he said. At a speed of 20 knots, the German squadron was covering a nautical mile every three minutes. Looking over his shoulder he noted that his ships were making quite a smoke cloud of their own. “We certainly have no time to stop and take a prize at this juncture.”
At 0545 hours the range had closed to 9 nautical miles. By now, all the stars had disappeared, and the sky was a speckless blue. The steamer ahead was indeed southbound and still approaching head on. She had a black hull, and what appeared to be a single funnel, with masts fore and aft. From the derricks on the masts, Von Schönberg took her to be a passenger cargo liner, and judging from the width of her bridge structure, he estimated her displacement to be around 5000 tons. Her single funnel featured a wide horizontal stripe on centre with a narrow stripe above and below. He had a crewman consult the Lloyd’s Registry, and determined this was the livery of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha Line. So a neutral. He looked at the bridge chronometer. For another couple of days, or more like 38 hours give or take.
Nürnberg crossed a sharp line in the ocean. South of the line, the sea was blue, north the water was brown. “The silt from the Fraser River,” said Mueller. “That river drains half this province. Your ship will actually be sitting a bit lower, in the sweet water.” A huge number of shorebirds circled over the mudflats at the shoreline. “The shallows extend two miles or more out into the Strait. This is where we want to be, in nice deep water.” Fishboats became visible close inshore, first a few, then more and more, maneuvering around each other for position. Soon it became apparent that the fishboats were attracted to the mouth of a great river, the South Arm of the Fraser. Now visible along the north bank of the river stood rows of hungry canneries, processing the bounty of the river for export to the wide world.
Shortly after 0600, the oncoming ships passed each other at a distance of 1000 meters. The liner proved to be the 6200 ton Shidzuoka Maru. Bridge crew on the Japanese ship were lined up at the rail with binoculars. A spirited discussion seemed to be taking place among them. “They are saying to each other, that is not the Japanese navy,” said Von Schönberg.
“Prepare to jam their transmissions, sir?” asked a runner from the wireless cabin.
“I believe it is too late for that,” said Von Schönberg. “Either the Japanese transmit who we are, or we jam them and by doing so announce who we are. I expect word has already come from some lighthouse, or perhaps the American Revenue Cutter. No we have passed the time for stealth, we have arrived at the time for action.”
“There is a Dominion Wireless Service station on Point Gray,” Mueller said, pointing to a headland at the entrance to Vancouver harbour. “They would immediately detect and interpret your jamming.”
“Ah,” said Von Schönberg, interested, “Perhaps we can shell the station.”
Mueller was taken aback. It is so hard to adjust, he thought. I am too used to these waters. I keep forgetting what we are here to accomplish. With the Japanese ship running south at 12 knots, and the Germans headed north at 20, the ships passed one another by quite rapidly.
“It is a pity,” mused Von Schönberg, “that we do not still have aboard the Kincolith Brass Band. Some Wagner would be very inspirational just now.”
At 0610 hours, Von Schönberg had a semaphore message sent to Lieutenant Von Spee on the Princess Charlotte. DETATCH AND MAKE WAY TO YOUR OBJECTIVES STOP GODSPEED STOP. The liner acknowledged and turned west, her coarse diverging from the cruisers. Princess Charlotte turned decisively towards the east shore of Vancouver Island and shrank away. Dark mountains bounded the scene in every direction. Directly ahead, the broad expanse of the Strait of Georgia extended to the horizon. In the distance to the west, a faint black soot cloud hinted at the coal fields of Nanaimo. To the east, another of the innumerable channels on this coast lay, this one the entrance to Howe Sound, and further east, Vancouver harbour.
At 0630 hours, Leipzig turned westward, and Nürnberg made a corresponding turn to the east. At this moment the disk of the sun rose over the mountain tops to the east, and lit the long Fraser Valley a golden yellow. Nürnberg’s bridge crew all squinted, dazzled from looking directly into the sun.
“Ship!” cried a lookout.
“Guns!” ordered Von Schönberg. “Prepare to fire!”
A steamer was emerging from behind American Waldron Island, ahead of the squadron and to the south-east. The vessel was really only visible as a dark shape moving against the dark backdrop of Orcas Island behind.
“Single funnel, no lights, armed, range 6000 meters,” called out the lookout. “In American waters.”
“Guns! Stand down!” ordered Von Schönberg. “Train fore and aft. Helm, keep our heading. Bring us back up to 18 knots.” The Germans were coming out of the confines of the shipping channel through the southern Gulf Islands and into the more open waters of Georgia Strait. They could not yet come up to full speed, since they would soon have to make several turns to follow the line of the International boundary and avoid straying into American waters. Especially now that the Americans are observing, though Von Schönberg.
“Wireless reports transmission, sir,” reported a sailor, “most likely from the unknown vessel. Message appears to be in code. Shall we jam sir?”
“No,” replied Von Schönberg. “Leave be.”
The mystery ship turned north-east, to match the squadron’s course, and turned on her running lights. “Unknown ship is approximately 1000 tons displacement,” called the lookout. “50 meters in length. Two guns forward, one aft.” Minutes passed. The Germans squadron swiftly overtook the American vessel, despite the latter producing an impressive amount of smoke from its tall single stack. To the east an orange glow showed the location of the city of Bellingham, in Washington State. Behind, with the morning’s light starting to define the edges of the sky, the silhouette of Mount Baker’s volcanic cone dominated the eastern skyline.
At 0500 hours, on Mueller’s instructions, Von Schönberg ordered a course change to due north. The squadron rounded East Point on Saturna Island with its flashing lighthouse a mere 2000 meters distant. The American vessel also turned north, following the International boundary, attempting to maintain its relative position of to the German squadron, but continuing to fall behind.
“Unknown vessel is flying stars and stripes,” reported the lookout. “Name on bow is USRC Unalga. Ship seems to be making no more than 12 or 13 knots. ”
“The American has not signaled us,” noted Von Schönberg. “They seem content to just follow the boundary, and make sure we stay outside.
When 0515 hours came, Von Schönberg ordered a turn to the north-west, and the ships accelerated to 20 knots. Unalga continued faithfully to shadow the Germans, but now rapidly fell astern. Before them, in rising light, was laid out the Strait of Georgia, an inland sea separating Vancouver Island from the mainland of British Columbia. This body of water was the highway for the province’s industry. At this hour, on this morning, it was smooth as glass. Ahead, at the narrowest spot between Point Roberts and Mayne Island, the Strait was 9 miles across, but it soon opened wider. A smoky haze to the north was lit by the pre-dawn light.
“Vancouver,” said Von Schönberg. “That is where we are bound. Ah, what a morning it is. And this sea state is particularly good for spotting periscopes.”
To the north, the mountains behind the city brooded in dark green, the low light casting the valleys in deep shadow. To the east, the sky was lighting up pink and orange over the Fraser River valley. In the ships’ wakes, to the south, the cones of Mount Baker and more distantly, Mount Rainier, loomed above all the other terrain, their eastern faces already catching the rising sun. Gulls fell into formation alongside the squadron, effortlessly keeping up where the hapless Unalga was unable.
“Ship!” called a lookout. “Dead ahead!”
A smaller cloud of smoke had separated from the smudge of Vancouver’s urban pall.
“Steamer,” continued the lookout. “Distance approx. 15 nautical miles. Oriented end on, so details unclear. Appears to be a on southerly heading.”
Von Schönberg took his own binoculars to survey the oncoming ship. The unidentified steamer appeared to be a merchant, and was just off the mouth of the North Arm of the mighty Fraser River, where it met salt water south of Vancouver. “Soon we shall have a better view,” he said. At a speed of 20 knots, the German squadron was covering a nautical mile every three minutes. Looking over his shoulder he noted that his ships were making quite a smoke cloud of their own. “We certainly have no time to stop and take a prize at this juncture.”
At 0545 hours the range had closed to 9 nautical miles. By now, all the stars had disappeared, and the sky was a speckless blue. The steamer ahead was indeed southbound and still approaching head on. She had a black hull, and what appeared to be a single funnel, with masts fore and aft. From the derricks on the masts, Von Schönberg took her to be a passenger cargo liner, and judging from the width of her bridge structure, he estimated her displacement to be around 5000 tons. Her single funnel featured a wide horizontal stripe on centre with a narrow stripe above and below. He had a crewman consult the Lloyd’s Registry, and determined this was the livery of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha Line. So a neutral. He looked at the bridge chronometer. For another couple of days, or more like 38 hours give or take.
Nürnberg crossed a sharp line in the ocean. South of the line, the sea was blue, north the water was brown. “The silt from the Fraser River,” said Mueller. “That river drains half this province. Your ship will actually be sitting a bit lower, in the sweet water.” A huge number of shorebirds circled over the mudflats at the shoreline. “The shallows extend two miles or more out into the Strait. This is where we want to be, in nice deep water.” Fishboats became visible close inshore, first a few, then more and more, maneuvering around each other for position. Soon it became apparent that the fishboats were attracted to the mouth of a great river, the South Arm of the Fraser. Now visible along the north bank of the river stood rows of hungry canneries, processing the bounty of the river for export to the wide world.
Shortly after 0600, the oncoming ships passed each other at a distance of 1000 meters. The liner proved to be the 6200 ton Shidzuoka Maru. Bridge crew on the Japanese ship were lined up at the rail with binoculars. A spirited discussion seemed to be taking place among them. “They are saying to each other, that is not the Japanese navy,” said Von Schönberg.
“Prepare to jam their transmissions, sir?” asked a runner from the wireless cabin.
“I believe it is too late for that,” said Von Schönberg. “Either the Japanese transmit who we are, or we jam them and by doing so announce who we are. I expect word has already come from some lighthouse, or perhaps the American Revenue Cutter. No we have passed the time for stealth, we have arrived at the time for action.”
“There is a Dominion Wireless Service station on Point Gray,” Mueller said, pointing to a headland at the entrance to Vancouver harbour. “They would immediately detect and interpret your jamming.”
“Ah,” said Von Schönberg, interested, “Perhaps we can shell the station.”
Mueller was taken aback. It is so hard to adjust, he thought. I am too used to these waters. I keep forgetting what we are here to accomplish. With the Japanese ship running south at 12 knots, and the Germans headed north at 20, the ships passed one another by quite rapidly.
“It is a pity,” mused Von Schönberg, “that we do not still have aboard the Kincolith Brass Band. Some Wagner would be very inspirational just now.”
At 0610 hours, Von Schönberg had a semaphore message sent to Lieutenant Von Spee on the Princess Charlotte. DETATCH AND MAKE WAY TO YOUR OBJECTIVES STOP GODSPEED STOP. The liner acknowledged and turned west, her coarse diverging from the cruisers. Princess Charlotte turned decisively towards the east shore of Vancouver Island and shrank away. Dark mountains bounded the scene in every direction. Directly ahead, the broad expanse of the Strait of Georgia extended to the horizon. In the distance to the west, a faint black soot cloud hinted at the coal fields of Nanaimo. To the east, another of the innumerable channels on this coast lay, this one the entrance to Howe Sound, and further east, Vancouver harbour.
At 0630 hours, Leipzig turned westward, and Nürnberg made a corresponding turn to the east. At this moment the disk of the sun rose over the mountain tops to the east, and lit the long Fraser Valley a golden yellow. Nürnberg’s bridge crew all squinted, dazzled from looking directly into the sun.
East Point (Saturna Island) Lighthouse
Photographs, history, travel instructions, and GPS coordinates for East Point (Saturna Island) Lighthouse.
www.lighthousefriends.com
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That is very intentional... last we heard the Rainbow was headed north towards last known positions but may have detoured out to sea after the Canadian radio operators determined there were systematic false wireless calls being made (intercept a captured merchant sending the calls? unclear.
No, it's just a testament to how well written the German characters are in this timeline
My expectations will be the Germans are going to do a lot of damage (taking a bit) and then the Rainbow and the subs take revenge on some crippled German ships. Of which some escape to valiantly die somewhere in the South Pacific.
I expect that at any seriously damaged German ships (that are able) will try to "escape" into Puget Sound and be interned by the Americans.
Gutta-percha
Aug 21, 0500 hours, SMS Galiano, Barclay Sound.
“We attack Bamfield Cable Station at dawn,” Hauptbootsmann Krüger had said to his crew, in preparation the night before. But even something as simple as dawn comes in matters of degree. Astronomical Dawn on August 21st arrived at 0408 hours, as the stars began to dim against the sky. The crew rose, prepared the ship, and steamed from silent Ucluelet harbour, blacked out at dead slow. Krüger had studied the channel from charts and in daylight enough to be able to find his way out into open water, but with no experienced local pilot on board, he dared not attempt to weave a path through the treacherous reefs and islets of the Sound in the dark, and instead headed out into the swells of the open Pacific, far enough off shore to ensure deep water below Galiano’s keel. The patrol vessel followed the coast south-east.
“Raise the Red Ensign,” Krüger ordered.
From time to time wireless messages were received, in unreadable code. Nautical Dawn arrived at 0456 hours, when Krüger could see the horizon clearly to seaward, and could distinguish the mountaintops from the sky and shoreline from the background in the maze of islands and passages of the Sound to the east. With this improvement in visibility, Krüger ordered his helmsman to take Galiano north-east up the 3 nautical mile wide stretch of open water called Imperial Eagle Channel. To the south-east, on Cape Beale, he could now clearly see the tapered white tower and black cap of the lighthouse 4 miles off. And so, the lighthouse keeper could also see Galiano’s every movement.
Galiano was making a course down the center of Imperial Eagle Channel in the low light at around 0510, with a mile of open water on either side and the smooth surface of the channel perfectly reflecting the indigo eastern sky, when a cruiser appeared to seaward 6000 meters to Galiano’s stern. The warship was a dark grey mass against the grey western horizon. Krüger startled, then took his binoculars to view the new arrival. The ship was a light cruiser, with two funnels, one large gun behind a shield on her turtleback fo’c’sle and another astern. She was flying the British White Ensign.
So, that Canadian training cruiser Captains Von Schönberg and Haun were so dismissive of, though Krüger. The Rainbow. Just when and where I am utterly helpless. Doesn’t God just have the best sense of humour.
The cruiser flashed Galiano a greeting by Morse light, then asked WHAT STATE ARE MATTERS IN THE TOWN OF UCLUELET? The question made no sense to Krüger. He was so alarmed by the sudden appearance of this enemy bearing his immanent death, that he considered he might be taking leave of his senses. Then he realized, the Canadians think we are a different ship! We are silhouetted by the light conditions, and end on. Galiano must be part of a class of patrol craft on this coast.
ALL IS WELL IN THE TOWN, Krüger had Galiano signal. TELEGRAPH IS STILL BROKEN BUT ALL IS OTHERWISE WELL. That sounds so suspicious, he thought. Next we will be stopped and boarded.
But instead the cruiser signalled farewell and turned to her starboard, making a course due south. If she maintained that heading, she would end up off the US coast, outside of the 3 mile limit. Despite the rising light, the warship soon disappeared into the seaward gloom, leaving only a smoke trail to show her location. For the next while, Galiano received wireless messages, in a code they could not decrypt. I hope none of those messages are for the ship Rainbow thinks we are, though Krüger, for we will not be able to reply.
The cruiser did not reappear. As Krüger’s head cleared, he recalled that he had encountered the name Malaspina on some of the manuals he had skimmed when familiarizing himself with this ship. And he also realized that this doppelganger must be expected to be in his immediate area, or else the Rainbow would not have so easily mistaken the two vessels. Did this endanger his mission? He might need to be extra vigilant, but if Captain Von Schönberg was steaming strait into Vancouver harbour, then Krüger could hardly stray from his target for fear of running into another fisheries patrol vessel. Galiano steamed onward.
It would be very useful, Krüger thought, for Captain Von Schönberg to know that there was a Canadian cruiser here, 6 hours from Esquimalt and blocking the squadron’s path of retreat back to the ocean. But he also knew that there was a Dominion Wireless Station nearby at the Pacheena Point light, and if they received a wireless message in an unfamiliar code they would sound an alarm. It had been Captain Von Schönberg’s hope that he could maintain surprise until his ships appeared right among the merchants in their target harbours. If this surprise was still holding, Krüger did not want to spoil it himself. Once his men severed the cables to the Telegraph Station, he might attempt a warning. The Canadian cruiser was still a minimum of 6 hours away from meeting Von Schönberg. Much could happen in that time.
At 0522 hours, SMS Galiano entered Satellite Passage, taking her through the Deer Group of islands from Imperial Eagle Channel into narrower Trevor Channel. No sooner had Galiano disappeared into the passage, that CGS Malapina, her identical sister ship, rounded Cape Beale, steaming on a north-westerly heading, just offshore for headed for Ucluelet at her full speed of 14 and a half knots. By the time the German ship fully emerged into Trevor Channel ten minutes later, its Canadian twin had passed by and disappeared behind King Edward Island to the north-west, leaving only a wake and faint trail of coal smoke. The lighthouse keeper, atop his tower, casually observed these movements, of Canadian flagged patrol vessels patrolling, and thought them unremarkable.
Now in Trevor Channel, Krüger sized up the situation, and compared the land and water he saw in front of him to his charts. The channel itself was about a mile wide, running on a southwest to northeast axis, bounded by the Deer Group of islands generally to the north and the main body of Vancouver Island to the south. If one followed Trevor Channel far enough, it turned into fjordlike Alberni Canal, and one could steam all the way to the mill town of Port Alberni, another 25 miles inland.
Krüger could see a notch in the coastline on the far shore to his south, the entry to the small inlet where lay the hamlet of Bamfield, to the seaward end of the peninsula. As Galiano steamed north and the aspect changed, some wood frame buildings could be seen through the narrow gap into Bamfield Inlet. The Cable Station building was not visible from this angle. North of Bamfield, Krüger could follow the land portion of the telegraph line on its poles as in snaked along the shoreline, headed inland.
“Landing party, form up!” ordered Krüger. 18 men lined up on the port main deck, sheltered by the overhang of the upper deck above, with Stabbootsman Lange in command. The two petty officers carried stocked Navy Luger carbines, the rest carried rifles. All wore webbing with magazine pouches for their respective weapons. A wooden crate with rope handles held Dynamite, blasting caps, fuses, and various wire cutting pliers. Two riflemen also carried axes. Overhead, the sound of boats being swung out could be heard.
“You have your orders,” said Krüger. “Once the cables are cut, Galiano will return to provide you with cover. Naval gunfire support,” he said in an exaggerated tone, gesturing towards the 6 pounder deck gun. “We will have to use discretion. If the Cable Station proves to be too well defended, we may have to withdraw. That could prove to be trouble depending on how far we have committed. I would personally be happy if we manage to burn down the Cable Station building, even if we must resort to throwing some Dynamite through the windows before retreating.”
Two gasoline engine powered boats were lowered, and the landing parties embarked. All 18 men could have fit in the single larger boat, but Krüger decided that since the landing party might, in a the worst case, be performing something of an opposed amphibious landing at the cable station, that redundancy was a benefit. The boats cast off and headed for the shore.
Galiano turned about and travelled to seaward down the channel. She steamed past the entrance to Bamfield Inlet, her Red Ensign flapping high on the mast. The Transpacific Cable Station revealed itself, sitting high atop a narrow peninsula that divided the inlet in two. The four story wood frame building looked very handsome, appearing to Krüger like a jolly resort hotel. Various smaller buildings servicing the station and for other miscellaneous purposes were scattered around the peninsula and on the opposite side of the inlet. A long wooden ramp descended to the wharf below the station, and several smaller wharves served the opposite shore. A few small boats were moored here and there. Krüger noticed a few figures moving about, none of them seemed to be in a state of alarm. Then the Galiano passed by, and the trees of the forest intervened in his view. Civil Twilight, the period that is effectively daylight before the sunrise, arrived at 0539 hours.
Krüger had Galiano continue down the center of Trevor Chanel for another 2000 meters, then the ship reduced her speed to dead slow. From this position, he could not see the Cape Beale lighthouse. On the either shore were large signs saying No Anchorage, Submarine Cable. Galiano’s charts confirmed the approximate location of the cable, at a depth of 75 meters, but it took nearly 15 minutes of dragging with a hawser and anchor from a ship’s boat to hook the cable and bring it to the surface. Kruger had given orders for the landing party to cut their telegraph cable at 0600 precisely. The work party on Galiano’s fantail had to hurry to synchronize cutting the submarine cable at the same time, then worked up a sweat as two men with axes chopped repeatedly at the 5 centimeter diameter cable, hacking through first the gutta-percha waterproofing, then the steel armour cables, and finally the copper transmission strand. Krüger could not tell if the resulting sparks were from the axes striking the steel of the cable, or if it was a final telegraph message, cut short.
www.bamfieldhistory.com
sparcradio.ca
“We attack Bamfield Cable Station at dawn,” Hauptbootsmann Krüger had said to his crew, in preparation the night before. But even something as simple as dawn comes in matters of degree. Astronomical Dawn on August 21st arrived at 0408 hours, as the stars began to dim against the sky. The crew rose, prepared the ship, and steamed from silent Ucluelet harbour, blacked out at dead slow. Krüger had studied the channel from charts and in daylight enough to be able to find his way out into open water, but with no experienced local pilot on board, he dared not attempt to weave a path through the treacherous reefs and islets of the Sound in the dark, and instead headed out into the swells of the open Pacific, far enough off shore to ensure deep water below Galiano’s keel. The patrol vessel followed the coast south-east.
“Raise the Red Ensign,” Krüger ordered.
From time to time wireless messages were received, in unreadable code. Nautical Dawn arrived at 0456 hours, when Krüger could see the horizon clearly to seaward, and could distinguish the mountaintops from the sky and shoreline from the background in the maze of islands and passages of the Sound to the east. With this improvement in visibility, Krüger ordered his helmsman to take Galiano north-east up the 3 nautical mile wide stretch of open water called Imperial Eagle Channel. To the south-east, on Cape Beale, he could now clearly see the tapered white tower and black cap of the lighthouse 4 miles off. And so, the lighthouse keeper could also see Galiano’s every movement.
Galiano was making a course down the center of Imperial Eagle Channel in the low light at around 0510, with a mile of open water on either side and the smooth surface of the channel perfectly reflecting the indigo eastern sky, when a cruiser appeared to seaward 6000 meters to Galiano’s stern. The warship was a dark grey mass against the grey western horizon. Krüger startled, then took his binoculars to view the new arrival. The ship was a light cruiser, with two funnels, one large gun behind a shield on her turtleback fo’c’sle and another astern. She was flying the British White Ensign.
So, that Canadian training cruiser Captains Von Schönberg and Haun were so dismissive of, though Krüger. The Rainbow. Just when and where I am utterly helpless. Doesn’t God just have the best sense of humour.
The cruiser flashed Galiano a greeting by Morse light, then asked WHAT STATE ARE MATTERS IN THE TOWN OF UCLUELET? The question made no sense to Krüger. He was so alarmed by the sudden appearance of this enemy bearing his immanent death, that he considered he might be taking leave of his senses. Then he realized, the Canadians think we are a different ship! We are silhouetted by the light conditions, and end on. Galiano must be part of a class of patrol craft on this coast.
ALL IS WELL IN THE TOWN, Krüger had Galiano signal. TELEGRAPH IS STILL BROKEN BUT ALL IS OTHERWISE WELL. That sounds so suspicious, he thought. Next we will be stopped and boarded.
But instead the cruiser signalled farewell and turned to her starboard, making a course due south. If she maintained that heading, she would end up off the US coast, outside of the 3 mile limit. Despite the rising light, the warship soon disappeared into the seaward gloom, leaving only a smoke trail to show her location. For the next while, Galiano received wireless messages, in a code they could not decrypt. I hope none of those messages are for the ship Rainbow thinks we are, though Krüger, for we will not be able to reply.
The cruiser did not reappear. As Krüger’s head cleared, he recalled that he had encountered the name Malaspina on some of the manuals he had skimmed when familiarizing himself with this ship. And he also realized that this doppelganger must be expected to be in his immediate area, or else the Rainbow would not have so easily mistaken the two vessels. Did this endanger his mission? He might need to be extra vigilant, but if Captain Von Schönberg was steaming strait into Vancouver harbour, then Krüger could hardly stray from his target for fear of running into another fisheries patrol vessel. Galiano steamed onward.
It would be very useful, Krüger thought, for Captain Von Schönberg to know that there was a Canadian cruiser here, 6 hours from Esquimalt and blocking the squadron’s path of retreat back to the ocean. But he also knew that there was a Dominion Wireless Station nearby at the Pacheena Point light, and if they received a wireless message in an unfamiliar code they would sound an alarm. It had been Captain Von Schönberg’s hope that he could maintain surprise until his ships appeared right among the merchants in their target harbours. If this surprise was still holding, Krüger did not want to spoil it himself. Once his men severed the cables to the Telegraph Station, he might attempt a warning. The Canadian cruiser was still a minimum of 6 hours away from meeting Von Schönberg. Much could happen in that time.
At 0522 hours, SMS Galiano entered Satellite Passage, taking her through the Deer Group of islands from Imperial Eagle Channel into narrower Trevor Channel. No sooner had Galiano disappeared into the passage, that CGS Malapina, her identical sister ship, rounded Cape Beale, steaming on a north-westerly heading, just offshore for headed for Ucluelet at her full speed of 14 and a half knots. By the time the German ship fully emerged into Trevor Channel ten minutes later, its Canadian twin had passed by and disappeared behind King Edward Island to the north-west, leaving only a wake and faint trail of coal smoke. The lighthouse keeper, atop his tower, casually observed these movements, of Canadian flagged patrol vessels patrolling, and thought them unremarkable.
Now in Trevor Channel, Krüger sized up the situation, and compared the land and water he saw in front of him to his charts. The channel itself was about a mile wide, running on a southwest to northeast axis, bounded by the Deer Group of islands generally to the north and the main body of Vancouver Island to the south. If one followed Trevor Channel far enough, it turned into fjordlike Alberni Canal, and one could steam all the way to the mill town of Port Alberni, another 25 miles inland.
Krüger could see a notch in the coastline on the far shore to his south, the entry to the small inlet where lay the hamlet of Bamfield, to the seaward end of the peninsula. As Galiano steamed north and the aspect changed, some wood frame buildings could be seen through the narrow gap into Bamfield Inlet. The Cable Station building was not visible from this angle. North of Bamfield, Krüger could follow the land portion of the telegraph line on its poles as in snaked along the shoreline, headed inland.
“Landing party, form up!” ordered Krüger. 18 men lined up on the port main deck, sheltered by the overhang of the upper deck above, with Stabbootsman Lange in command. The two petty officers carried stocked Navy Luger carbines, the rest carried rifles. All wore webbing with magazine pouches for their respective weapons. A wooden crate with rope handles held Dynamite, blasting caps, fuses, and various wire cutting pliers. Two riflemen also carried axes. Overhead, the sound of boats being swung out could be heard.
“You have your orders,” said Krüger. “Once the cables are cut, Galiano will return to provide you with cover. Naval gunfire support,” he said in an exaggerated tone, gesturing towards the 6 pounder deck gun. “We will have to use discretion. If the Cable Station proves to be too well defended, we may have to withdraw. That could prove to be trouble depending on how far we have committed. I would personally be happy if we manage to burn down the Cable Station building, even if we must resort to throwing some Dynamite through the windows before retreating.”
Two gasoline engine powered boats were lowered, and the landing parties embarked. All 18 men could have fit in the single larger boat, but Krüger decided that since the landing party might, in a the worst case, be performing something of an opposed amphibious landing at the cable station, that redundancy was a benefit. The boats cast off and headed for the shore.
Galiano turned about and travelled to seaward down the channel. She steamed past the entrance to Bamfield Inlet, her Red Ensign flapping high on the mast. The Transpacific Cable Station revealed itself, sitting high atop a narrow peninsula that divided the inlet in two. The four story wood frame building looked very handsome, appearing to Krüger like a jolly resort hotel. Various smaller buildings servicing the station and for other miscellaneous purposes were scattered around the peninsula and on the opposite side of the inlet. A long wooden ramp descended to the wharf below the station, and several smaller wharves served the opposite shore. A few small boats were moored here and there. Krüger noticed a few figures moving about, none of them seemed to be in a state of alarm. Then the Galiano passed by, and the trees of the forest intervened in his view. Civil Twilight, the period that is effectively daylight before the sunrise, arrived at 0539 hours.
Krüger had Galiano continue down the center of Trevor Chanel for another 2000 meters, then the ship reduced her speed to dead slow. From this position, he could not see the Cape Beale lighthouse. On the either shore were large signs saying No Anchorage, Submarine Cable. Galiano’s charts confirmed the approximate location of the cable, at a depth of 75 meters, but it took nearly 15 minutes of dragging with a hawser and anchor from a ship’s boat to hook the cable and bring it to the surface. Kruger had given orders for the landing party to cut their telegraph cable at 0600 precisely. The work party on Galiano’s fantail had to hurry to synchronize cutting the submarine cable at the same time, then worked up a sweat as two men with axes chopped repeatedly at the 5 centimeter diameter cable, hacking through first the gutta-percha waterproofing, then the steel armour cables, and finally the copper transmission strand. Krüger could not tell if the resulting sparks were from the axes striking the steel of the cable, or if it was a final telegraph message, cut short.
Cable Stations – Bamfield & Fanning Island – Bamfield Historical Society
www.bamfieldhistory.com
Bamfield | S.P.A.R.C. Museum
A message could still be sent from Victoria to Australia, going the other way around the world. There is also a long distance wireless network.
All Red Line - Wikipedia
Driftless
Donor
A message could still be sent from Victoria to Australia, going the other way around the world. There is also a long distance wireless network.
All Red Line - Wikipedia
en.m.wikipedia.org
From the All Red Line link you noted;
I'll admit my limited understanding of just how impressive that wide-spread distributed and redundant(in the good meaning of the term) the communications system was.