Inside the sea cave it was pitch black. Our torches cut narrow beams through the water, illuminating shrimp darting in the shadows. As we got deeper inside, we reached a point where fresh water from above, which ran through cracks in the soft limestone, met the sea. Entering this zone, the water took on a shimmering appearance, like looking through a bottle of undiluted lime cordial. It was a disconcerting feeling, as I could no longer focus, and was in effect swimming blind. But once through the mix and into the pure fresh water, the visibility became crystal clear, and we surfaced inside a large cave. Removing our regulators, our torches lit up intricate limestone formations. Mindful of the effect of our breathing on the cave environment, we only stayed a few minutes before submerging once again to return to the open sea.
On dive trips, I’m often the odd one out. Most people turn up with their partner or their mates, or sometimes their parents. Although I’ve found the dive community to be overwhelmingly friendly, I usually end up spending large parts of the day by myself. I also tend to be buddied up with the dive leader, which is actually a positive I reckon. On board the Down Under, motoring from the sea cave dive site back towards Bar, Montenegro, I found myself at a loose end, so drifted in to the cabin to chat to Jake, the skipper and owner of the dive business. He had spent a couple of years in Australia when he was a young bloke and loved it (hence the Down Under), so we had plenty to talk about.
As Bar Harbour came into sight, the conversation turned to the second dive of the day, the wreck of the French destroyer Dague (‘Dagger’).
The Dague, launched in 1911, was one of twelve 800 ton Bouclier Class destroyers built for the French Navy.1 In February 1915, she and fellow Bouclier Class destroyer Faulx were escorting a British cargo ship to the port of Antivari (now Bar), Montenegro.2
The Dague was under the command of Lieutenant Bousquet. At a subsequent inquiry into the loss of the ship, Lt Bousquet described the events of the morning of February 24th, 1915:
‘I had taken up my monitoring post in Antivari Harbour, 12 metres deep, and three cables (approximately 550 metres) from land. The gunners at their battle stations, ready to go into action, the engines under pressure, finally all ‘ready’ to sail at the first alert. I was in my room, when around 9 o’clock, a dull detonation was heard. My ship gave a violent jolt, broke apart, broke, and the stern sank rapidly, giving a 70-degree inclination.’
‘I estimate that I must have anchored on a bottom mine, that the Austrian’s had laid a few days earlier, for the benefit of the transports. The low tonnage of of the Dague would not have had to fear this dangerous proximity; but it is probable that the catastrophe occurred as a result of the swell which made the torpedo boat pitch on this device and caused its explosion.’3
As Lt Bousquet had described, the ship was at the ready, which would have meant a proportion of the crew were below decks at their stations when the mine exploded. When she sank to the sandy bottom of the harbour, the Dague took 38 souls with her.2
We tracked alongside the harbour breakwater, before Jake eased the throttle a few hundred metres from the harbour entrance. He explained that when the new Bar Harbour was constructed in the early 1970s, the wreck of the Dague had to be moved a short distance from where it sank in 1915.
Jake briefed us about the dive ahead, after which we pulled on our damp wetsuits and climbed into our gear. With our dive leader Vuk, three of us descended beside the anchor line into the gloomy water.
The detonation that sunk the Dague, and the later movement of the wreck, broke the ship into massive chunks. Consequently, the structure of the ship was hard to identify. Wreck diving with a dive operator usually involves swimming a lap outside the vessel, before exploring inside if practical. However considering the condition of the Dague, we instead followed Vuk as he criss-crossed the wreck, giving us a general tour to points of interest in each of the remaining sections of the ship.
Amongst the tangle of steel, we could make out mechanical components including pipes and valves.
Vuk showed us a toilet, and brushed some of the sediment away to reveal floral ceramic tiles.
Looking down through holes in the deck, we could see artillery rounds still stacked in the hull. I wondered how much worse the loss of life would have been if the mine had set off the ship’s ammunition supply.
Vuk lead us to a section of the Dague’s internal structure that had survived the explosion and later movement of the wreck. Inside, a staircase that would have once bustled with the movement of the crew sat silent under a layer of green silt.
During the briefing, Jake explained that we would see a room inside the ship that contained a bedframe. He had referred to this room as the ‘Captain’s Cabin’, assuming that the only one on board who would have a private cabin was the skipper. When the bedframe came into view, I wondered if this was the room where Lieutenant Bousquet was located when the mine exploded (‘I was in my room, when around 9 o’clock, a dull detonation was heard‘).
Back aboard the dive boat after 45 minutes on the Dague, I was relieved to remove my wetsuit, put on some dry clothes, and find a spot in the sun. We were only minutes away from the Harbour, and had soon tied up at the marina.
The day after the dive, I walked down to King Nikola’s Palace, the summer residence of the last king of Montenegro. Now a museum, I had read that inside there was a display dedicated to the Dague. When I arrived, I was disappointed to find the building closed for maintenance.
Apparently an anchor and propeller from the wreck had been placed in the gardens of the Palace, and standing atop a bench, I looked over the wall and saw what I assumed were these artefacts.
Exploring the Dague, now over 100 years since she was sunk, was a fascinating and sobering experience. Hopefully the attraction of the wreck to divers will play a small part in ensuring the Dague and her crew are not forgotten.
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Diving the Wreck of the Alga, Tunisia, Diving the SS Thistlegorm, Egypt
1Navypedia, 2025, ‘Bouclier Destroyers 1911-1913‘
2National Memorial to Sailors Who Died For France, 2025, ‘Dague Destroyer‘
3Le Petit Provencal Marseille, 1915, ‘La perte du Torpilleur Dague‘, 22 Mai, p3
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