TREACHERY
Daybreak of Saturday, November 28, 1914, found us off Dar-es-Salaam, the
capital of what was then German East Africa. It lies about twenty miles
south of Zanzibar. We anchored some three miles outside the harbour, but
our consorts—a cruiser, an armed auxiliary vessel, and the _Helmuth_—a
tug previously captured from the Germans—went much closer in.
The outer anchorage at Dar-es-Salaam is a broad, open bay studded with
coral reefs, and we lay not far from the small lighthouse situated at
the extremity of a rocky point running out from the southern end of the
bay. The distant shore was veiled in the mists of early morning, but with
the aid of glasses we could make out the sweep of white pebbly beach and
the waving tops of palms. Here and there houses peeped out among the
trees, the most prominent being the Governor’s residence; and farther
north, right on the sea-front, appeared the new European hospital—a large
red-brick building. Two white flags were flying from a signal-station at
the entrance to the inner harbour, but this harbour itself could not be
seen from the ship.
In response to signal, the Governor came out in a small motor-boat and
boarded the cruiser—the senior ship. There he was interviewed by the
captain, who told him that it was our intention to send boats in to
examine the ships in the port and to deal with them as we saw fit, with a
view to preventing them from putting to sea. The reason for this was that
those vessels were suspected of supplying food, etc., to the crew of the
_Königsberg_—that Teutonic commerce raider which a short time before had
been bottled up in the Rufigi River. He also stated that in the event of
any hostility being shown to our men in the execution of their duty we
should bombard the town.
I believe that the Governor agreed to these proposals, but said that he
could not answer for the attitude of the military. He was then returned
under safe conduct to the shore, and shortly afterwards a German military
officer came out and stated that our boats would not be molested.
All these preliminary negotiations took some time, and it was not until
about 11 a.m. that our picket-boat and the tug started on their mission.
The former had the misfortune to collide with a floating dock which the
Huns had sunk right in the narrow channel which formed the entrance to
the harbour, and sustained such damage to her rudder as to be out of
control, so she had to be towed back to the ship and the steam-pinnace
was got out to take her place.
I was ordered to go in and board and examine the S.S. _Tabora_. This was
a passenger-steamer of the Deutsch Ostafrika Line, and claimed by the
Germans to be a hospital ship; she had not, however, been registered
as such at the beginning of the war. It was intended, should her _bona
fides_ seem doubtful, to disable her engines. In company with the torpedo
lieutenant I embarked in the pinnace, and left the ship about midday.
The entrance to the inner harbour is very narrow, being at one point
less than two hundred yards across, but the channel is quite deep
and large vessels were able to enter at high tide. Now, however, the
fairway was very much obstructed by the submerged floating dock. The
cruiser’s steamboat was busy taking soundings as we went through, and
we successfully negotiated the passage. The town of Dar-es-Salaam
looked very pretty that morning. Its well-built two-storied stone
houses, painted white, with tiled and slated roofs, are set among trees
and flowering shrubs, and some of them have deep, shady balconies and
verandahs which looked cool and inviting. Stretches of green turf ran
down to the white, sandy beach; here and there were clumps of bushes and
cloudy masses of purple Bougainvillier. But there was not a sign of any
human being. The town looked absolutely deserted; and yet, as subsequent
events will show, many hidden eyes must have been eagerly watching our
approach.
The _Tabora_ was lying about the middle of the harbour; she had a red
cross painted on her side, and was flying the hospital flag from her
masthead. As we passed her I noticed several figures on the deck, among
them being a woman in nurse’s garb. They were all staring hard at us,
and probably bitterly reviling the “_verdammte Engländer_.” However, the
moment had not arrived for me to board her, and so the pinnace passed
by and went on up the creek, where we expected to find the other two
steamers and the tug _Helmuth_, which had preceded us earlier in the
morning. Sure enough, about a mile further up we found two ships of
the D.O.A. Line, the _Koenig_ and the _Feldmarschal_. They were lying
moored together across the creek with their bows almost touching the
bank. As we came alongside the _Koenig_ our Commander hailed us from
her deck and told the torpedo lieutenant to come aboard and take charge
of the explosive work while he took the pinnace further up on a voyage
of discovery. I thereupon transhipped to the _Helmuth_, which was under
orders to tow out to our ships two boat-loads of prisoners, and the
Commander issued instructions that I should be put aboard the _Tabora_
on the way. A number of German prisoners were sitting in one of the
_Koenig’s_ lifeboats, each with a bundle of clothing on his knees or on
the thwart beside him. These were engineers and stewards from the two
ships; and in another boat were several native firemen.
While we were still alongside the _Koenig_ there came a sudden crash
from somewhere deep down in her internal economy—the engine-room, to be
precise—and the glass from the skylights, shattered by the explosion,
fell tinkling on the deck—Torps was getting to work. The _Helmuth_ now
steamed down the creek towing the two boats with the prisoners and their
guards, and when we got abreast the _Tabora_ we ran alongside and I
boarded her. The tug at once pushed off again, the lieutenant saying that
he would return and pick me up later, after he had taken the prisoners
out to the ships.
Captain Gauhe in command of the _Tabora_ met me at the top of the
gangway, and in fluent English asked me my business. I explained that I
was a doctor, and had been instructed to examine his ship in order to
make sure that she was—as she claimed to be—a hospital ship. He seemed
surprised, but offered no objections, and turning round introduced me
to Dr. Weiss, a thin man with projecting ears, and a small, weak chin.
The doctor spoke no English, and as at that time my German was no better
than that of the average man who has learned the grammar at school and
neglected it ever since, we only bowed, and smiled distantly.
The captain then led the way below, explaining as he did so that they had
practically no patients on board, as up to the present the shore hospital
had been able to meet all demands for accommodation.
On the first-class deck the Sister was introduced to me, but as she too
spoke no English, once more I only bowed. I noticed that in contrast
to the captain, who was amiable and chatty, and the doctor, who seemed
merely nervous, this woman regarded me with a very suspicious and hostile
eye.
I looked into several cabins and found that some of the bunks had been
removed and those that remained were made up with clean sheets and
pillows, apparently all ready for the reception of patients. In response
to my enquiry as to whether there _were_ any patients, I was taken into a
small cabin where I found a man lying in bed, and I was informed that he
had undergone an operation, but he looked remarkably fit and healthy. On
turning down the bedclothes I found he had his trousers on! This looked
very suspicious. And although further examination revealed a surgical
dressing secured with bandages, I asked for these to be removed. Then
I saw that he really had a healing operation wound; apparently he was
convalescent, but on my arrival had been hurriedly put to bed, with
the somewhat childish idea of giving a more convincing aspect to the
_Tabora’s_ claim to be a genuine hospital ship. Just as the patient was
being re-bandaged I was startled by the sinister rattle of a machine-gun.
My examination went no further! With one accord we made a dash for the
porthole, but could see nothing from there. Just for a second we looked
at each other in consternation, then we made a simultaneous rush for the
upper deck. Then we saw the _Helmuth_ with the two boats in tow, steaming
through the narrow neck for the open bay as hard as she could lick. All
around her the water was lashed by flying bullets, and from the bushes on
the shore little spurts of smoke were drifting up into the still air. Not
a soul was visible in the boats, presumably they were all crouching in
the bottom, and there was no sound save the ominous rat-a-tat-tat of the
machine-gun.
“_Mein Gott!_” cried the old captain, wringing his hands. “_Mein Gott!
Mein Gott! Mein Gott!_ Dear! Dear! Dear!... Ah, why shoot? Fools! We
can’t fight ships!”
But I was only dimly conscious of the commotion around me, for my gaze
was riveted on the _Helmuth_. She was steadily forging ahead, and an
occasional puff of smoke from her deck showed that the crew, crouching
behind their sandbags, were answering the fire.
“God!” I whispered; “she’ll be on the beach in a minute!”
It looked as though she would never take the bend. I thought that the
coxswain must be shot, and that no one had noticed it. Would she never
turn? She seemed running straight for the beach at the foot of the signal
staff.... At last ... she swung round ... cleared the bend ... and was
lost to sight. As she disappeared the fire from the shore slackened, and
after a few more desultory shots, ceased altogether.... Once more a hot,
sleepy silence reigned....
I drew a long breath of relief.... It had all passed so quickly, that but
for the babel that now broke forth on deck, it might have been a waking
nightmare. I turned to the captain, who was terribly excited.
“Oh, Doctor,” he exclaimed, “what fools! Oh, why did they fire? Your
ships will shoot now, will they not?”
I nodded grimly as I answered: “Yes, I expect so.”
In almost breathless suspense we waited—watching—listening. From the
_Tabora_ we could not see our ships, or what was happening outside.
In a little while, from far out at sea, came a dull _boom_ ... and
a moment later the first shell crashed into the palm-trees on the
beach. Then they came fast and furious, smashing up the undergrowth,
tearing down great palm-fronds, and throwing up fountains of sand.
The cocoanut-trees were waving and tossing as in a gale, and above
their tops hung clouds of dust and smoke. Presently we heard a yet
louder explosion.... Something, probably a house, had been hit. The
reddish-yellow lyddite fumes were quickly followed by a dense cloud of
black smoke which rolled up over the trees, and the fierce crackle of
burning wood was distinctly audible.
I turned to the captain. “What is it?” I asked.
“The Governor’s house,” he replied. And in spite of the imminent danger I
felt a thrill of exultation that the vile treachery had been so speedily
avenged.
For a few seconds the firing seemed to die down; then it broke out
afresh. The gunners had now turned their attention to the harbour
entrance and we could mark the effect of every shell. Shot after shot
dropped round the base of the flagstaff, from which the mocking white
flags were still flying. I thought the ships were trying to bring it
down; it still stood, however.
Now and again a shell would fall just short of the beach, and exploding,
send columns of water and spray high into the air. I saw one shot hit a
corner of the signal-house. There followed a cloud of dust; a few bricks
seemed to topple slowly over, revealing a jagged hole as though some
giant had taken a huge bite.
It was a curious experience. I had frequently watched a battle-practice
from the deck of a ship, but this was the first time that I had seen
a bombardment from the target end. It was interesting—but exceedingly
uncomfortable, especially as shots soon came flying round the _Tabora_,
several plumping into the water almost alongside. Others came over our
heads, and as we instinctively and futilely ducked, went sailing away
with a long, wailing scream to bury themselves in the undergrowth on the
far shore.
The poor old captain was beside himself with anxiety. He herded everyone
to the far end of the steamer and stood guard over them like a sheep-dog.
The natives crouched under their blankets, howling in dismal chorus each
time that a shell went screaming overhead. In the intervals they peeped
out fearfully at me as though I was the evil genius that had brought this
storm upon them.
Said the captain to me: “Shall I put everyone in the boats and send them
ashore?”
“No,” I answered; “I think it is just as safe—probably safer—on board.”
“But they are firing at the ship!” he exclaimed.
“No, I think not.”
“They know you are on board? They won’t fire at us?”
“Yes, they probably know I am here. I don’t think they are trying to hit
the ship. It is best to stay where we are.”
Presently the firing ceased. I had no watch, but I reckoned that the
bombardment lasted about fifteen minutes. The _Tabora_ received no direct
hit, but a large fragment of 12-inch shell landed in her forecastle.
For a little while we waited on deck, listening and watching, but the
afternoon stillness was broken only by the crackling of wood from the
Governor’s house, which was still burning merrily. At length we came to
the conclusion that, for the time being at any rate, the bombardment was
over, and the captain led the way into the first saloon and offered me a
whisky-and-soda, which I most gratefully accepted. I was now introduced
to the engineer, an enormously fat man; there were no less than three
distinct rolls of fat—I counted them—between the band of his cap and the
collar of his tunic, and he could just squeeze into a large armchair!
This officer also spoke good English, but he did not waste much time in
talking! He put away three long whiskies-and-sodas in quick succession,
drinking them off as if they were bocks.
After two whiskies and a cigar, I felt much better, and began to ponder
on what I should do next. I knew the pinnace was still up the creek, and
wondered if she had been captured—which seemed possible, as although it
was some time since the cessation of the bombardment, she had not yet put
in an appearance.
It was about an hour later when, to my intense relief, I at last saw
something coming down the stream, and with the aid of glasses made out
that it was indeed the pinnace, although at first I could not be certain,
as she had a large lighter lashed on each side of her. Having satisfied
myself that she was still flying the White Ensign, I asked the captain to
let me have a boat to put me aboard her.
“You will send my boat back?” he queried.
“Certainly,” I answered.
With that he ordered his rowing-skiff to be made ready and manned by
four natives of the _Tabora’s_ crew. Then, after condoling with him on
the nervous strain to which he had been subjected, and congratulating
him on the lucky escape of his ship, I bade him good-bye and stepped
light-heartedly into the waiting boat.
As I lighted my pipe I hugged the idea that my troubles were over, and a
very nasty episode at an end. I knew, of course, that we were likely to
be fired at as we went out, but I thought that I should be snug aboard
the pinnace, and further that I should be able to tell the Commander
where the enemy’s guns were.
As we pushed off and started rowing up-stream, I stood up in the stern
and waved to the oncoming pinnace. She had the ebb with her and was
coming down at a fair pace. The Commander was standing by the coxswain—he
had just answered my hail—and I was turning my boat round so that he
could run alongside and pick me up, when suddenly there was a hail of
bullets all round us. The natives gave one wild howl, dropped their oars,
and grovelled in the bottom of the boat. I kicked the nearest, threatened
the others, and managed to get them back into their seats and to grab the
oars as they floated by.
Meanwhile we were subjected to an erratic fire from the shore, but the
Germans speedily got our range and the bullets began to whistle by
unpleasantly close to my head. One of the crew—hit in the chest—slipped
off the thwart with a groan, and once more the others took cover in the
bottom of the skiff.
A rapid glance at the pinnace showed me that she was still about fifty
yards off; the Commander was firing his revolver at the beach. I crouched
down and waited in the hope that she would come alongside between me and
the shore, so that I could scramble aboard.... The native who had been
hit was already past help; even as I tried to crawl to his assistance he
gave a convulsive quiver and died.
The bullets were fairly humming overhead; now and then a deeper
note in the menacing chorus suggested the passage of some larger
projectile—probably something in the nature of a shot from a one-pounder.
With straining ears I listened to the beat of the steamboat’s engines,
but as the minutes passed, instead of drawing nearer it seemed to me
that the sound was getting fainter. Now there were fewer shots flying
over my boat ... the fire was drawing off.... Very cautiously I raised
my head to see what was happening.... Good heavens!... The pinnace was
almost past the _Tabora_.... I swore! Then, as she was now out of range,
the marksmen on the beach turned their attention to me again. Once more
the bullets came whizzing past my head.... There was nothing for it but
to get down. I lay on my back in the bottom of the boat and cursed.
After a few more shots the firing ceased.... Then I realised that my pipe
had burnt out; quite unconsciously I had continued to smoke throughout
those frenzied moments!
I heard the pinnace run the gauntlet of the guns at the entrance to the
harbour—and then the firing died down again.
Wondering if those beggars on the beach were still watching my boat, I
held my topee above the gunwale.... Sure enough, there came an immediate
answering volley, and a bullet crashed through the gunwale just above my
head. The shooting was improving.... I made up my mind that I was certain
to be hit, and fell to wondering what it would feel like.... Would it
sting and smart, or simply numb?
They now kept up an irregular fire, evidently taking pot-shots at me....
Probably betting on the results. I felt wild! There I was, lying on my
back in an open boat being fired at, and with no chance of replying,
for, as a medical man, I was absolutely unarmed.
With a sudden inspiration I seized the tiller-ropes and moved the rudder
from side to side, hoping to impart a little way to the boat. I could
not judge of the result and did not care in what direction I went, my
one idea being to get out of my present predicament. At length I saw the
masts of the _Tabora_ coming into view over the gunwale. Slowly they grew
taller and taller. The ebb-tide was carrying the boat down, and with any
luck we should drift alongside. As we neared her the fire from the shore
ceased, and in another minute we were able to sit up and paddle to the
gangway.
Every soul on board was leaning over the rail, looking down on us and
chattering excitedly. As I gained the deck the captain grasped my hand.
“Oh, Doctor,” he exclaimed, “are you hit? Have you been wounded? I had no
idea they would fire at you. Oh, you _do_ believe me, _don’t_ you?” And
he kept on repeating over and over again: “I would _never_ have allowed
you to go if I had known they would shoot at you.”
He was most genuinely distressed, and I am sure he spoke in all sincerity.
“Did the steamboat get out all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered; “it was marvellous to see how steadily she held her
course. I saw one man with blood running down his arm, and others lying
on the deck firing. Ah! ... the fire was terrific! It is wonderful if
anyone came through alive.”
Just after I got on board the ships opened fire again, and we were
subjected to another bombardment even more trying than the first, but
mercifully shorter.
It was now getting late in the day.
“The night fell swiftly; this sudden land
Can never lend us a twilight strand
T’wixt the daylight shore and the ocean night,
But takes—as it gives—at once the light.”
After the mad turmoil of the afternoon the silence was uncanny. I felt
absolutely finished; the reaction after all the excitement was worse than
the actual strain at the time. I found my hand shaking when I lifted a
glass to my lips, and I could not stop it though I realised how absurd
it was. I felt so dead tired, mentally and physically, I could not even
bother to wonder what would become of me, or how I could rejoin my ship.
The captain invited me to dine with him in his cabin, and provided a very
nice little meal; but I was too tired to be properly appreciative.
While we were still at table some of the native crew came in and spoke
excitedly to my host. When they had gone he told me that they had said
that nothing would induce them to take me in a boat again. I said that I
could quite understand their feelings, and did not blame them. After all,
it was not their quarrel!
“But,” asked the captain, “how will you get back to your ship? Will they
send a boat for you to-night?”
“I don’t think they will send any more boats now,” I answered, “but I
hope they will send in the morning.”
“Then you had better sleep on board to-night,” he said. “I can let you
have a cabin. Will you promise to stay in it?”
I promised.
The steward brought me a new toothbrush and a tin of “Three Castles”
cigarettes. I had no sleeping-suit, so I turned in in my shirt. But in
spite of my exhaustion, perhaps because of it, it was not until early
morning that I fell asleep.