THE END OF THE RAIDER "EMDEN"
At 6.30 a.m. on the morning of November 9 the _Melbourne_ was
steaming at the head of the three long lines of transports when she
picked up a wireless message from the cable station at Cocos Island.
The message was imperfect, but conveyed to the _Melbourne_ the fact
that an enemy warship was then off the island. The convoy was at the
time about sixty miles away from the island, so that it was obvious
there was no time to be lost. The _Melbourne_ was the flagship, and
her commander was responsible for the safety of the transports, he
had, therefore, to deny himself the supreme pleasure of setting
off to deal with the stranger. He sent instead instructions to the
_Sydney_, which at once set off, gathering speed as she went.
The excitement on board the _Sydney_ was intense. It was an
open secret that the notorious _Emden_ was somewhere in that
neighbourhood, and every soul on board, from Captain Glossop to the
two boys who had been taken aboard at Sydney from the training ship
_Tingara_ at the last minute, was fervently praying that it might
be the sea-raider which had sunk more than twenty British merchant
vessels, and bombarded Madras. Down below the stokers were at work
like demons; a significant sentence in Captain Glossop's official
report afterwards revealed how well they worked. He reported that the
engines worked splendidly, developing a higher rate of speed than
upon the official trials of the ship; as a matter of fact, the crew
worked her up to the great speed of twenty-seven knots.
Meanwhile it may be as well to explain just what had happened at
Cocos Island. At five o'clock on the evening of November 8 the
inhabitants, who were all officials connected with the cable and
wireless stations there, noticed a strange warship approaching
the island. She paid no heed to their wireless signals, but after
approaching very close, stood away again at night time. Early in
the morning she again appeared, and as nothing could be made of
her, and she was lowering a boat, a wireless call for help was sent
off at random. The stranger tried to obliterate this by sending
strong wireless calls, which accounts for the message reaching the
_Melbourne_ in a mutilated condition.
The message was despatched just in time, for three boats put to land
with a strong party on board. They were Germans, and at once took
possession of the station, and began the work of dismantling it
without any delay.
The _Sydney_ was now making good time, and at a little after nine
o'clock sighted the island, seventeen miles away. To the right of
the island could be seen the smoke of a steamer, quite stationary;
then the people on the _Sydney_ knew they were in time. They were
going so fast that all that could be seen of them from the island was
a great plume of smoke and a mighty bow wave. That was enough for
the _Emden_--for the stranger was, of course, the German corsair.
"If that is an Australian cruiser," said the captain, von Mueller,
"I'm going to sink her." Out he put to make good his vainglorious
boasting, and the distance between the two vessels rapidly decreased.
There was an international group of spectators for the wonderful
ocean duel that followed. The people of the cable station gathered
on the roof of their building to get a view of the fight; and they
were joined there by the members of the German landing party, who
had no time to rejoin their ship. The manœuvres of the two vessels
were dictated by their armaments. The _Emden_ had guns of only 4-inch
calibre, and it was her policy to fight at comparatively short
range. The _Sydney_ had eight 6-inch guns, and Captain Glossop was
determined that she should enjoy the tactical advantage due to her by
reason of her heavier metal.
The _Sydney's_ people were all aglow with excitement, but
level-headed withal. Many of them were young Australians, members
of the newest navy in the world, and determined that in the first
important action fought by that navy all concerned should do it
credit. Lads of nineteen, with eyes ablaze with excitement, stood as
coolly at their guns as the veterans of a dozen sea fights might have
done. The two boys from the _Tingara_ carried ammunition about the
decks at a steady run, laughing and whistling with glee.
The ships were now steaming parallel courses at a distance of about
five miles, the _Emden_ trying to get closer and the _Sydney_
outmanœuvring her. The order was given on the _Sydney_ to load, when
the _Emden_ fired the first shot of the duel, a salvo which went
harmlessly over the _Sydney_; as intended, for it was meant to give
the German gunners the range. The _Sydney_ replied similarly, with a
broadside from her port guns; and the fighting had now begun in real
earnest. It was about a quarter to ten in the morning, with a calm
sea and a clear atmosphere.
The _Emden_ began with some very good shooting; its excellence was
emphasized by the fact that the German gunners were firing at the
extreme range of their guns, and had to use an elevation of about
thirty degrees. The shots that struck the _Sydney_--there were ten in
all, and all in the first ten minutes of the fighting--were falling
at such an angle that their hole of exit on the starboard side was
much lower than the shothole where they struck on the port side. But
the shots of the _Sydney_ went straight through the _Emden_, the hole
of exit being practically on the same level as the entry. Such an
advantage do heavier naval guns give in a duel at sea.
The fourth shot of the _Emden_ was a good hit; it went through the
_Sydney's_ deck and exploded below, wounding Petty Officer Harvey
and another man. An Australian lad who was detailed there to watch
for torpedoes never even turned round at the explosion, nor did he
move the telescope from his eyes. At the same time the _Sydney_ was
scoring hits on the _Emden_, though the first sign of it to the
Australians was not observable until the fall of one of the German's
funnels, which was greeted with loud cheering from all the _Sydney's_
company. A minute afterwards the foremast of the raider toppled over,
carrying with it the main fire control, and throwing its members into
the sea.
When fighting had been in progress for a quarter of an hour the
_Sydney_ discharged a salvo which settled any hope the Germans may
have cherished either of victory or escape. It entered the _Emden's_
stern under the afterdeck, where it burst, blowing up the whole of
the steel deck. The steel plates were twisted and shattered beyond
anything that could have been deemed possible; the after gun was
dismounted, and the crew blown into the sea; the ship was set afire
aft, and remained afire for the rest of the fight. Most serious
effect of all, the salvo destroyed the steering gear, and for the
rest of the battle the _Emden_ had to steer by means of her screw,
thus reducing her speed immensely, and leaving her completely at the
mercy of the manœuvres of her opponent.
The _Emden_ now swung round, doubling in an attempt to reduce the
distance; but the _Sydney_ easily countered the move by following
the operation; and continued steaming parallel with the German,
and battering her to pieces. In the first quarter of an hour, and
before she had received her deadly injury, the _Emden_ had scored
several important hits on the _Sydney_. One had struck the second
starboard gun, and set fire to some cordite, which the gun crew threw
overboard. This shot was followed by a shrapnel shell in the same
quarter, which killed two of the gun's crew and injured all the rest
except two. Another shot exploded in the lads' room, and damaged
their kits; but the room was empty, and no one was hurt.
But after that explosion aft she never struck the _Sydney_ again,
though the fight lasted for an hour longer. She had been firing with
remarkable speed; it is believed that the third salvo was out of her
guns sometimes ere the first had reached the neighbourhood of the
_Sydney_. In all she fired 1,400 shots, of which only ten struck
their mark; and of these only three, or at the most four, could be
considered important hits.
Again she doubled, with smoke pouring from her at every quarter.
Suddenly the whole company of the _Sydney_ burst into ringing cheers.
"She's gone," was the shout; and indeed for a time it appeared as
though the _Emden_ had suddenly gone down. Reports from the centre of
a patch of curiously light-coloured smoke dissipated the notion; the
_Emden_ was still afloat, and still fighting. The smoke that hid her
was the smoke that showed how badly she was hurt. One by one her guns
ceased firing, as the well-directed shots from the _Sydney_ put them
out of action; but still she ran, and still she fought her remaining
guns.
One by one her funnels collapsed, and fell across the twisted
deck. Only one gun was left, a gun far forward on the port side.
Desperately the crippled _Emden_ ran, and desperately she fought
her last little gun. What an inferno she then was, only those who
fought her can tell. Her gnarled steel work was hot with the raging
fire; the smoke from her furnaces belched from the holes left by the
fallen funnels, and streamed in scorching clouds across her deck.
Her ammunition hoists, and most of the rest of her equipment, had
been hopelessly damaged; and what ammunition was being used had to
be carried to her remaining gun by hand. The ship was a shambles,
with dead men lying everywhere, and badly wounded as well. But in the
conning tower Captain von Mueller still fought his ship, and prayed
for a shot to carry him and it away.
His ship was wrapped in flame; the stern actually glowing red hot
with the fire. She no longer could be steered, even by the employment
of her screws; and with her ensign still flying, and her solitary gun
roaring at intervals, she ran high up on the coral reef, a hopeless,
shattered wreck. Her conqueror gave her two broadsides as she lay
there, with her bow high out of the water and only a short stretch
of surf between her and dry land. Her ensign was still flying, and
Captain Glossop had to make sure.
While the fight was in progress a merchant ship had hovered round the
combatants; obviously most anxious as to the result of the duel. At
one period she showed signs of wishing to take part with the _Emden_,
and the guns of the _Sydney_ had been trained upon her, though no
shot was fired at her. She was really a collier which had been
captured by the _Emden_, and with a prize crew from the _Emden_ on
board had met the raider at Cocos Island. Her crew had considered the
advisability of trying to ram the _Sydney_, but were wise enough to
abandon the scheme, and make for safety when the fight went so badly
against their side.
When the _Emden_ ran ashore this collier was already a long distance
away; in fact she was almost out of sight. The _Sydney_ put after
her, and after a long chase came near enough to send a shot across
her bows as a summons to surrender. She was boarded, but by this time
she was sinking, as some one on board had turned on the seacocks, and
filled her with water. The crew was accordingly taken off her, and
she was abandoned to her fate, the _Sydney_ returning to the _Emden_.
The tide had gone out, and the one-time terror to the commerce of
the British Empire was lying high and dry, with her ensign still
floating. "Do you surrender?" signalled the Australian warship. To
this question the _Emden_ replied by hand signal: "We have lost
our book, and cannot make out your signal." Then Captain Glossop
sent the curt demand, "Haul down your ensign." As the Germans paid
no attention to this, he sent yet another message, intimating that
he would resume hostilities if the ensign were not hauled down in
twenty minutes. For so long he steamed up and down her stern, while
the white flag with the black cross still fluttered upon the wreck.
Then reluctantly, and because he had no option, Captain Glossop fired
three more salvos at the defiant raider. Down came the German ensign
and in its place the white flag of surrender was hoisted.
Those three last salvos, unwillingly discharged at short range into
a helpless hull, did terrible havoc. The scorching decks were strewn
with dead and wounded sailors, hapless victims to a tradition the
Kaiser has sought to impose upon a navy that has no traditions of
its own making. The _Sydney_ could not succour them yet, for there
was still work left for her to do. A boat manned by the German prize
crew of the collier was sent to the wreck, with the message that the
_Sydney_ would return to the assistance of those on board early in
the morning.
It is now necessary to relate what occurred upon the island, where
we left the British and Germans together gazing spellbound at the
opening of this remarkable ocean duel. After the deadly salvo which
crippled the _Emden_ had been fired, the German landing party
recognized that their ship was doomed. They at once ordered the
British off the roof of the cable station, and shut them up in a
room where they could not know what was going on. They behaved
courteously but firmly, taking every precaution that there should be
no interference with the work now before them. There was lying at
the island the schooner _Ayesha_, and into this vessel they loaded
everything they could find that was likely to be useful for a long
ocean voyage.
By the middle of the afternoon they were all ready, and about half an
hour before the _Sydney_ returned from her chase of the collier they
set sail, taking with them the three boats and four maxim guns with
which they had landed. They were about forty in number, and their
bold plan of escape was successful. The story of their adventures on
the little schooner is a romance in itself; it belongs to the history
that Germany will one day produce of the daring of her own men.
Before leaving, they had done all the damage they could to the cable
and wireless stations.
Next morning the _Sydney_ returned to the wreck, taking with her the
doctor from Cocos Island, and all the helpers that could be mustered.
The _Emden_ was found in a condition truly pitiful. The deck was
a tangle of twisted steel; so shattered that it was impossible to
make a way about it. The survivors were huddled together in the
forecastle, the only part of the ship which had not been made an
inferno by the fire, which was still burning aft, and had scorched
the stern out of all shape or even existence. There was not a drop of
fresh water on the ship, and the food supplies were inaccessible or
destroyed. For quite twenty-four hours the survivors, many of them
suffering from terrible wounds, had been without food or even drink.
To reach the shore was a matter almost of impossibility, so heavy
was the sea that was running. To make matters worse, the more
experienced of the two doctors carried by the German cruiser had had
his thigh broken in the action. In their despair some of the crew,
including a number of wounded men, had managed to reach the shore,
only to be mocked by a waterless and utterly barren patch of sand.
The work of rescue was a difficult business. Only four or five
wounded men could be taken off by each boat; and the company of the
_Sydney_ worked hard all day at their task. Night fell with it still
unaccomplished, but it was completed on the following day. Each
wounded man meant a hard task, the work of getting the injured on the
boats, and hoisting them from the boats on to the _Sydney_, being
complicated by the roughness of the sea, and the dreadful injuries
and sufferings they had one and all experienced.
The losses on both sides showed how utterly the _Emden_ was
outfought. The _Sydney_ lost three men killed outright, while one
more afterwards died of his wounds. Four were seriously wounded,
four more were returned as wounded, and yet another four as slightly
wounded. The men killed were: Petty Officer Thomas Lynch, Able Seamen
Albert Hoy and Reginald Sharpe, and Ordinary Seaman Robert Bell.
The _Emden_ lost, in the action and by drowning, twelve officers
and 119 men; the prisoners totalled eleven officers, nine warrant
officers, and 191 men. Of these three officers and fifty-three men
were wounded, most of them seriously. The fight lasted for an hour
and forty minutes, though after the first fifteen minutes the battle
was a hopeless one for the Germans. In their manœuvres the combatant
vessels covered more than thirty miles during the progress of the
fight.
Every courtesy was extended to the prisoners; the officers were
allowed to keep their swords, and were treated by the Australians
with such consideration as their refusal to give parole permitted.
The wounded were tended with the utmost solicitude, and repaid the
care lavished on them with expressions of the liveliest gratitude.
The _Sydney_ rejoined her convoy at Colombo, one of the world's
great ports of call. The great roadstead was swarming with friendly
vessels, the city lay white above the cliffs of Galle Face, the
houses nestling among the brilliant green of the palms, bisected with
startling red roads. Above, a cloudless blue sky, and the British
flag proudly floating over all. Colombo is one of those "places in
the sun" which have aroused the covetous greed of his Majesty Wilhelm
II.
The flagship _Melbourne_ signalled her course to the _Sydney_, and
the victorious cruiser swung round and steamed between the long
rows of transports. The side of each swarmed with Australasian
soldiers, all greeting the conqueror, hat in hand. The silence was so
oppressive that the captured Germans looked uneasily at one another.
Every ship in the harbour showed its bunting, but no whistle blew, no
cheer was raised to greet the heroes of the fight.
Piqued into an unrestrainable curiosity by this apparent lack of
emotion, one of the German captured officers asked an officer of the
_Sydney_ why there was no cheering. He was told, very simply, that as
there were prisoners on the cruiser, suffering from serious wounds
gallantly sustained, the _Sydney_ had sent a message asking that no
noisy demonstration should mark her return to the fleet. This reply
unmanned him completely. With tears in his eyes he said, "You have
been kind, but this crowns all; we cannot speak to thank you for it."
For Australians not the least proud of the memories of the first
engagement fought by their navy will ever be that silent greeting
of the returning conqueror. The restraint imposed upon that army of
Australasians, going out for the first time to make war in Europe,
was hardly natural, when the thrilling nature of the incident is
considered. The chivalrous care for the wounded enemy will surely
immortalize the gallant sailors who desired it, and the brave
soldiers who respected their wish so thoroughly.
But elsewhere such restraint was not necessary. On November 10, the
news of the destruction of the _Emden_ was announced at Lloyd's in
London, the parting knell of the raider being rung on the bell of
the old _Lutine_. The underwriters, mindful of the £2,500,000 of
damage done by the raider to British commerce, burst spontaneously
into hearty cheering for the _Sydney_ and her bold crew; also for the
newest navy in the world, the navy of the Commonwealth of Australia.
From all parts of the world messages of congratulation were flashed
to the Prime Minister of Australia. For the first time the man in the
street realized that Australia really had a navy, efficient in the
highest degree as to quality, though still limited in the number of
its component vessels.
IN THE LAND OF PHARAOH