of St. Hilda were damaged, as were the shipyards and the office of the local newspaper.  The destruction of the gas works left the town in almost complete darkness for many nights afterward.  The authorities issued a proclamation ordering all citizens to remain indoors for a time, and then began to count the number of dead and injured.  The first estimate gave the former as 22 and the latter as 50, but subsequent reckoning showed that both figures were too low.

In Scarborough most of the inhabitants were still in bed when the bombardment started and for a few minutes did not become excited, thinking the booming of the guns was the sound of thunder.  But when the shells began to drop on their houses they knew better.  Many were killed or wounded while they hastily got into their clothes.  One shell hit St. Martin’s Church while communion was being held.  Here, too, the railway station was made the objective of many refugees, and the police did what they could to send the women and children out of range of fire by putting them on trains of extra length.  As in all such scenes there were humorous sides to it.  One old workman, while hurrying along a street was heard to say:  “This is what comes of having a Liberal Government.”  In all, about 6,000 people left the town immediately and did not return for some days.

Similar were the scenes enacted in Whitby when the turn of that town came.  Only two persons were killed in that town, while thirteen casualties were reported from Scarborough.

The raid immediately became the subject for discussion in the newspapers of every country on the globe.  In England it was bitterly denounced, and the term “baby killers” was applied to the men of the German navy.  In Germany it was justified on the ground that the German admiralty had information and proof that the bombarded cities were fortified, and therefore, under international law, subject to bombardment.  Nor did the German journalists lose the opportunity to declare that Great Britain no longer ruled the waves nor to show pride over the fact that their fleet had successfully left the German coast and had successfully returned to its home port.  The war, they said—­and truthfully—­had been brought to England’s door.

The year 1914 ended gloomily for the British public; nothing could have disappointed them more than the failure to catch the Germans.  Nor did the new year open brightly for Britain, for on the first day of January, 1915, there came the news of disaster to the Formidable, sister ship to the Bulwark.  The lesson of the Hogue, Cressy, and Aboukir had not been learned, for this ship went down under the same circumstances.  While patrolling near Torbay during a night on which there was a bright moon and a calm sea, this ship, in company with seven other large ships unaccompanied by a “screen” of destroyers, was hit by a torpedo fired from a German submarine.  Most of her crew were asleep when the