ere transpiring in the North Sea the British had
not been idle elsewhere. From the beginning of operations in the
Dardanelles attempts had been made to penetrate the Bosphorus and sink
one of the Turk's capital ships. A number of sailing vessels and one
or two transports had been sunk by British submarines in that sea, but
efforts to locate the larger warships of the enemy failed until August
9, 1915. On that day the _Kheyr-ed Din Barbarossa_, a battleship of
9,900 tons and a complement of 600 men, was sent to the bottom. The
attack took place within the Golden Horn, at Constantinople, and the
event spread consternation in the Turkish capital. It was the first
time on record that a hostile warship had penetrated the land-locked
waters of the Ottoman city, so favored by nature that attack had
seemed impossible there.

The _Barbarossa_, although an ancient ship as war vessels are rated,
carried four 12-inch guns and was a formidable fighting craft, having
been overhauled by German engineers about a year before the war
started. Along with the _Goeben_ and _Breslau_, which took refuge at
Constantinople on the outbreak of hostilities, and were "sold" to
Turkey, she constituted the Turk's chief naval arm.

News of the feat was received with enthusiasm in England, coming as
the initial achievement of the sort by a British submarine. It helped
salve the wounds to British pride, made by repeated disasters through
the medium of German undersea boats. The event was one of the few
bright episodes from an Ally standpoint in the campaign to capture
Constantinople, and was taken to mean that a new tide had set in for
the attackers. It did serve to clear the Sea of Marmora of Turkish
shipping, and supplies for the beleaguered forces at the tip of
Gallipoli Peninsula were henceforth carried by a single track railway
or transport. It also inspired a healthy respect among the Turks for
enemy submarines.

A few days later, August 16, 1915, another German submarine was to set
a new record. Early in the morning of that day the towns of
Whitehaven, Parton, and Harrington, on the western coast of England,
were aroused in succession by the boom of guns and the falling of
shells in their streets. It was believed for a few frenzied moments
that the German fleet had come. But merely one lone submarine had made
the attack. This was enough to cause considerable alarm, particularly
when it was seen that a gas plant at Whitehaven had caught fire. T