Discover the real story of Lassie and HMS Formidable

Next day one lifeboat washed up on the beach and those on board, the bodies and the barely alive, were taken to a pub nearby.

The dead were placed in the beer cellar where the landlord's dog, Lassie, began to lick the face of one sailor.

Half an hour later it was realised that the man was still alive.

The story of Lassie and the sailor from HMS Formidable reached Hollywood, inspiring the famous films of the sheepdog that bears Lassie's name.

The seaman had been dragged unconscious from the surf just below the Cobb Gate at Lyme Regis and given up for dead.

Rescuers instead concentrated on saving survivors washed ashore alive.

But the landlord's collie dog refused to leave Able Seaman John Cowan's side as he lay motionless in the Pilot Boat Inn, where sailors, dead and alive, from the sunken battleship had been taken.

She sat by his motionless body, and continued to lick and nuzzle him for half an hour.

Amazingly, the “drowned" sailor began to stir and rescuers rushed to his aid.

The crossbred collie - called Lassie - had saved his life.

Some said that the dog had been trained to raise the alarm as the landlord Tommy Atkins's wife was an epileptic, while others put it down to canine instinct.

Either way, it was a happy ending on a dark night for the Formidable and Britain's navy.

A total of 547 men perished when the pre-Dreadnought vessel became one of the first British battleships of the First World War to be sunk by an enemy submarine.

Cowan and the 200 men who survived were lucky to be alive at all.

The battleship was bringing up the rear of a line of warships from the Fifth Battle Squadron that was taking part in firing and steaming exercises off Portland.

Many of the 747strong crew had hoped to spend New Year's Eve in the pubs of Portland but much to their disappointment were ordered to remain on exercise at sea overnight on January 31 and into the early hours of January 1.

No enemy U-boat activity had been reported in the Channel for a month but that was to change at about 2.20am in the morning.

German U-24, operating out of Flanders, had been tracking the squadron all day and picked its moment to send a torpedo straight into the Formidable's second boiler, just abreast of the foremost funnel.

The Formidable lost all steam and immediately keeled over 20 degrees to starboard.

The captain, Arthur Noel Loxley, ordered all watertight doors closed and the crew to be piped to collision quarters.

Sailors remained completely calm as they launched lifeboats in the pitch black, while the sea grew rougher and the wind rose.

Two lifeboats were lowered but one violently capsized immediately and hurled its load of sailors overboard into the cold waters.

Meanwhile the submarine commander, Kapitanleutnant Rudolph Schneider, stayed in the area to confirm his kill.

Just to make sure the Formidable was finished he sent another torpedo whistling into the stricken warship from just 160 metres away, 45 minutes after the first strike.

This second torpedo hit the ship's number one boiler, near the funnel on the port side, and rocked the ship back on to an even keel.

Metal, wood and debris rained on to the men in the boats as well as the Formidable and the German U-boat itself.

The stricken battleship was unable to lower more boats into the sea because it had lost power, so the captain ordered anything wooden to be brought up on to deck so men could use it to grab hold of when the ship went down.

They were also told to break up part of the decking and even throw the ship's piano overboard although this meant the sailor playing ragtime on it at the time had to stop.

This impromptu piano concert was just one of the efforts of the crew to keep spirits up as the ailing warship began to sink.

The chaplain of the Formidable, the Rev George Brooke Robinson, showed great bravery to venture back below decks to fetch cigarettes for the men.

Mr Robinson, who was a former curate of Burton Bradstock and lived in West Bay, fought his way back into the vessel despite the danger of the ship capsizing at any moment.

Leading stoker JH Taplin, later told of his terror as the Formidable was hit.

Stoker Taplin said he scrambled up on deck after the first torpedo struck.

He said: “It was terribly cold and the ship was in a sorry plight, rolling and heeling over.

“Two light cruisers were dodging and searching round us, dropping lifebuoys and hoping to save some of the crew. They were almost as helpless as we were.

“It was impossible to get near us as the terrific seas were washing over us. Several men were in the water crying for help but we could do nothing.”

He added: “Without warning a terrific explosion rent the ship. A second torpedo had caught us, blowing the boilers up. I had the peculiar sensation of seeing the ship below me and her nose well down.

“Then another moment I was in the icy water struggling for life with the breath knocked out of me.”

Stoker Taplin sank into unconsciousness but came round to find he had been pulled from the water by men in a small boat from the Formidable.

HMS Topaze, a cruiser in the fleet with Formidable, was one of the two light cruisers trying to pluck men from lifeboats and dropping lifebuoys but the task became increasingly perilous as the seas became heavier.

Capt Loxley vainly fired distress rockets before ordering the Topaze away for fear of the submarine adding to its night's kills.

The men left behind had no choice but to wait for the old battleship to sink. Over the next two hours, they stood on deck singing and smoking until, at about 4.40am, the Formidable eventually gave way.

She lurched to starboard and began to sink by her bows before suddenly plunging downwards.

Captain Loxley gave the order to abandon ship and told them: “Lads, this is the last. All hands for themselves and may God bless you and guide you to safety.”

According to reports he then 'walked to the forebridge, lit a final cigarette and with his faithful and beloved terrier Bruce by his side, waited for the inevitable to happen in true Royal Naval tradition'

Captain Loxley had been given the Airedale/Irish terrier cross by his son Peter at the outbreak of war.

Threeyearold Bruce and the captain became 'joined at the hip' and looked after each other - even to the very end. As the Formidable went down, Bruce refused to leave his master's side for the safety of a lifeboat.

Bruce's body was subsequently washed ashore at Chesil Beach, and he is now buried at the nearby Abbotsbury Gardens, with an inscribed headstone marking his place of rest.

As the Formidable slipped below the waters of Lyme Bay, she left hundreds of men flailing in the seas and desperately trying to cling on to anything afloat in the tumultuous seas and pitch black.

By now strong winds had taken hold and survivors in the boats had trouble staying afloat as the waves threatened to capsize or engulf them, while many men in the sea itself went to a watery grave.