The Dresden after the Falkland action took refuge in Fiordes of Terra del Fuego and after being there for a couple of months proceeded to the head of the Island of Juan Fernandez where she was found by the Glasgow, Kent and auxiliary cruiser Orama and was destroyed.

Most remarkable had been the career of the German third-class cruiser Nuernberg, which had joined the other German ships that went to make up the German squadron which fought in this battle off Coronel. This vessel, on the day after Germany and England went to war, was lying near Yap, an island in the Pacific, that had been, until captured by the Japanese, the wireless station of most importance to the Germans in the Pacific Ocean. She immediately, after being apprised that she was part of a navy engaged in a war, set sail and was not reported again until the 7th of September, when she appeared at Fanning Island, a cable station maintained by Britain, and from which cables run to Vancouver to the east and Australia to the west. Here she performed a clever bit of work by entering the harbor flying the tricolor of France and appearing as though she was making a friendly visit. Officials on the island, happy to think they would have such a visitor, saw two cutters leave the warship.

Great was the surprise of those watching events from the shore when they saw the French flag lowered from the masthead of the visitor and in its place the German naval ensign run up. The cutters were just about reaching knee-deep water at the shore when this surprise came, and it was augmented when, with the protection of the guns of the vessel, the men in these cutters showed themselves to be a hostile landing party.

Her presence was not reported to the rest of the world for the good reason that she cut all cables leading from the island. All the British men there were put under guard, and after damaging all cable instruments she could find, the Nuernberg, accompanied by a collier that had come with her, again took to the high seas.

She next turned up at the island of St. Felix, 300 miles west of the Chilean coast, but did not come to the harbor. During the night of October 14 the inhabitants of that island saw the flash and heard the roar of an explosion miles out to sea, and for a number of days later they picked up on their beach the wreckage of what must have been a collier. As has been related in preceding paragraphs, the Nuernberg took part in that fight. The end of her career came in the battle off the Falkland Islands, which will be dealt with later.

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CHAPTER XXXV

THE GERMAN SEA RAIDERS

While British men-o'-war were capturing German merchant-men and taking them to British ports, the German raiders which were abroad were earning terrifying reputations for themselves because the enemy merchantmen with which they came upon had to be destroyed on the high seas, for there were no ports to which they could be taken. Prominent among these was the Koenigsberg, a third-class cruiser. When the war came she was in Asiatic waters and immediately made the east coast of Africa her "beat." While patrolling it she came upon two British merchant ships, and after taking from their stores such supplies as were needed she sent them to the bottom. On September 20, 1914, she made a dash into the harbor of Zanzibar and found there the British cruiser Pegasus, which on account of her age was undergoing a complete overhauling. She was easy prey for the German ship, for besides the fact that she was stationary her guns were of shorter range than those of her adversary. Shell after shell tore into her till she was battered beyond all resemblance to a fighting craft. But her flag flew till the end, for though it was shot down from the masthead, two marines held it aloft, one of them losing his life. And when the Koenigsberg, her task of destruction complete, sailed off, the lone marine still held up the Union Jack. The British ships in those waters made a systematic hunt for her and located her at last, on the 30th of October. She was hiding in her favorite rendezvous, some miles up the Rufigi River in German East Africa. The ship which found her was the Chatham, a second-class cruiser, with a draft much heavier than that of the Koenigsberg, and the difference gave the latter a good advantage, for she ran up the river and her enemy could not follow. Nor could the English ship use her guns with much effect, for the gunners could not make out the hull of the German ship through the tropical vegetation along the river banks. All that the British ship could do was to fire shells in her general direction and then guess what effect they had. But to prevent her escape, colliers were sunk at the mouth of the river. She had come to as inglorious an end as her victim, the Pegasus.

The account of another raider, the Kronprinz Wilhelm, which left New York on the evening that England declared war, with her bunkers loaded with coal and other supplies for warships, has already been related. The mystery concerning this sailing was cleared up when she was caught coaling the Karlsruhe in the Atlantic. Both ships made off in safety that time, and soon after a British cruiser reported that she had been heard in wireless communication with the Dresden. Thereafter the fate of this ship remained a mystery till she put in at Hampton Roads on April 11, 1915.

Most spectacular was the career of the Emden, a third-class cruiser, which sailed from Japanese waters at the same time as the Koenigsberg. Through the ability of her commander, Captain Karl von Mueller, she earned the soubriquet "Terror of the East," for by using a clever system of supply ships she was able to raid eastern waters for ten weeks without making a port or otherwise running the risk of leaving a clue by which British ships might find her. Her favorite occupation was that of stopping enemy merchantmen which she sank. But her captain always allowed one—the last one—of her prizes to remain afloat, and in this he sent to the nearest port the officers, passengers, and crews of those that were destroyed. At times he used prizes as colliers, putting them under command of his petty officers.

By way of diversion, Captain von Mueller steamed into the harbor of Madras in the Bay of Bengal and opened with his guns on the suburbs of the town, setting on fire two huge oil tanks there. The fort there returned the fire, but the Emden after half an hour sailed away unharmed. She had been enabled to come near the British guns on shore by flying the French flag, which she continued to display until her guns began to boom. She then left the waters of Bengal Bay, but not before she had ended the journey of $30,000,000 worth of exports to India, and had sent to the bottom of the sea some $15,000,000 worth of imports. Twenty-one steamers had been her victims, their total value having been about $3,250,000, and their cargoes were worth at least $15,000,000. Very expensive the British found her, and they were willing to go to any length to end her career. They curtailed her activities somewhat when the Yarmouth captured the converted liner Markomannia, which was one of her colliers, and recaptured the Greek freighter Pontoporos, which had been doing the same duty. This took place off the coast of Sumatra.

But Von Mueller was undaunted, even though his coal problem was becoming serious. He knew that the Yarmouth had sailed from Penang near Malacca and that she was not at that base, since she was searching for his own vessel. He therefore conceived the daring exploit of making a visit to Penang while the Yarmouth was still away. He came within ten miles of the harbor on the 28th of October, and disguised his ship by erecting a false funnel made of canvas upheld by a wooden frame, much like theatrical scenery. This gave the Emden four funnels, such as the Yarmouth carried. Coming into the harbor in the twilight of the dawn, she was taken by those on shore to be the British ship, not a hostile gun ready for her.

Lying in the harbor was the Russian cruiser Jemchug and three French destroyers and a gunboat. The watch on the Russian ship questioned her, and was told by the wireless operator on the Emden that she was the Yarmouth returning to anchor. By this ruse the German ship was enabled to come within 600 yards of the Russian ship before the false funnel was discovered. Fire immediately spurted from the Russian guns, but a torpedo from the Emden struck the Jemchug's engine room and made it impossible for her crew to get ammunition to her guns. Von Mueller poured steel into her from a distance of 250 yards with terrible effect. The Russian ship's list put many of her guns out of action, and she was unable to deliver an effective reply. Another torpedo from the Emden exploded her magazine. Fifteen minutes after the firing of the first shot the Russian had gone to the bottom.

Von Mueller now put the prow of the Emden to sea again, for he feared that both the Yarmouth and the French cruiser Dupleix had by then been summoned by wireless. Luck was with him. Half an hour after leaving the harbor he sighted a ship flying a red flag, which showed him at once that she was carrying a cargo of powder. He badly needed the ammunition, and he prepared to capture her. But this operation was interrupted by a mirage, which caused the small French destroyer Mosquet to appear like a huge battleship. When he discovered the truth, Von Mueller closed with the Frenchman, who came to the rescue of the Glenturret, the powder ship. Destroyer and cruiser closed for a fight, the former trying to get close enough to make work with torpedoes possible, but the long range of the Emden's guns prevented this, and the Mosquet was badly damaged by having her engine room hit. Soon she was in a bad way, and Von Mueller ordered his guns silenced, thinking the destroyer would now give up the fight. But the Frenchman was valiant and refused to do so; he let go with two torpedoes which did not find their mark, and was immediately subjected to a withering fire, which caused his ship to sink, bow first.

One of the destroyers which had been in the harbor now came out to take issue with the Emden, but it was the business of the latter to continue destroying merchant ships and not to run the risk of having her career ended by a warship, so she immediately put off for the Indian Ocean. A storm which then came up permitted her to make a better escape.

It was not until the 9th of November that the world at large heard more of her, and it proved to be the last day of her reign of terror. There was a British wireless and cable station on the Cocos (Keeling) Isles, southwest of Java, and Von Mueller had determined to interrupt the communication maintained there connecting India, Australia, and South Africa. Forty men and three officers, with three machine guns, were detailed by him as a landing party to destroy instruments and cut the cables. But such a thing had been partially forestalled by the British authorities, who had set up false cable ends. These were destroyed by the deceived Germans. When the Emden had first made her appearance the news had been sent out by the wireless operator on shore, not knowing what ships would pick up his calls.

This time luck was against Von Mueller, for it so happened that a convoy of troop ships from Australia was passing within one hundred miles. They were accompanied by the Australian cruisers Melbourne and Sydney. The latter was dispatched to go to the Cocos Islands, and by getting up a speed of 26 knots she reached them in less than three hours. Von Mueller knew that escape by flight was impossible, for his ship had been weeks at sea; her boilers were crusted, her machinery badly in need of repair, and she had not too much coal. He therefore decided to give battle, and went straight for the Sydney at full speed. His object was to meet her on even terms, for her advantage was that her guns had much greater range than those of the Emden. If he could get close enough he might be able to use his torpedo tubes. But Captain Glossop of the Sydney saw through this maneuver and maintained good distance between the two ships. About the first shot from the Emden killed the man at the range finder on the fore bridge of the Sydney. Captain Glossop was standing within a few feet of him at the time.

The replies from the Australian ship were fatal. The foremost funnel of the Emden crumpled and fell; her fire almost ceased, and then she began to burn; the second funnel and the third fell also; there was nothing left but to beach her, which Von Mueller did, just before noon. While she lay there helpless the Sydney shot more steel into her, leaving her quite helpless, and then went off to chase a merchant ship which had been sighted during the fighting and which, when caught, proved to be the British ship Buresk, now manned by Germans and doing duty as collier to the Emden. Returning to the latter, Captain Glossop saw that she still flew the German flag at her masthead. He signaled her, asking whether she would surrender, but receiving no reply after waiting five minutes he let her have a few more salvos. The German flag came down and the white flag went up in its place. The Jemchug had been avenged, and the terribly costly career of the Emden brought to an end. Von Mueller was taken prisoner, and on account of his valor was permitted to keep his sword. But the landing party, which had cut the false cables, was still at large. The adventures of these three officers and forty men form a separate story, which will be narrated later.

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CHAPTER XXXVI

BATTLE OFF THE FALKLANDS

The defeat of the British squadron back in the first week of November had sorely tried the patience of the British public, and the admiralty felt the necessity of retrieving faith in the navy. Von Spee was still master of the waters near the Horn, and till his ships had again been met the British could not boast of being rulers of the waves. Consequently Admiral Fisher detailed the two battle cruisers Invincible and Inflexible to go to the Falkland Islands. They left England November 11, 1914, and on the outward journey met with and took along the light cruisers Carnarvon, Kent, and Cornwall, the second-class cruiser Bristol, and the converted liner Macedonia. The Canopus and the Glasgow, now repaired, all joined the squadron, which was commanded by Admiral Sturdee. The vessels coaled at Stanley, Falkland Islands, and while so engaged on December 8 were warned by a civilian volunteer watcher on a near-by hill that two strange vessels had made their appearance in the distance. British naval officers identified them and other vessels which were coming into view as the ships of Von Spee's squadron, the one which had been victorious off Coronel.

During the interval that had elapsed since that engagement these German ships had not been idle. Von Spee knew that the Glasgow had gone to the Falklands and that there were important wireless stations there, but he put off going after those prizes and picked up others. The Nuernberg had cut communication between Banfield and Fanning Islands. Two British trading ships had fallen victims to the Dresden, and four more had met the same end at the hands of the Leipzig. For coal and other supplies Von Spee had been relying on the Chilean ports, but now came trouble between him and the port authorities, for England was accusing the South American nation of acting without regard to neutrality. It was for this reason that Von Spee turned southward to take the Falkland Islands. The world at large, and of course Von Spee, had no knowledge of the ships which had set out from Plymouth for the Falklands on the eleventh of the month, so he approached in full expectation of making not only a raid but for occupation. He knew that he would have to exchange shots with the Glasgow and perhaps some small ships, and he believed the islands weakly defended by forts, but there was nothing in that to defer his attack. The result—the lookout near Stanley had reported the oncoming warships Gneisenau and Scharnhorst, followed by the rest of the German squadron. German guns were trained on the wireless station, and great was the surprise of the unfortunate Von Spee and his officers when there was heard the booming of guns which they knew immediately must be mounted on warships larger than their own. Their scouting had been defective, and the presence of the Inflexible and Invincible had till then not been discovered. They then reasoned that these were the guns of the Canopus—a critical and fatal error.

The Canopus from behind the hills fired on the German ships in an endeavor to protect the wireless station. Beyond the range of her guns hovered the lighter German cruisers Dresden, Leipzig, and Nuernberg to await the outcoming of the Glasgow. Both the Gneisenau and Scharnhorst concentrated their fire on the Canopus, and when the Glasgow, accompanied by the Carnarvon, Cornwall, and Kent, made her appearance it did not change the battle formation of the Germans, for the Canopus was still the only large vessel they were aware of. Now the Leipzig came nearer in order to take up the fight with the lighter British ships. By nine in the morning the German ships were drawn out in single file, running parallel with the shore in a northeasterly direction. At the head of the line was the Gneisenau, followed by the Dresden, Scharnhorst, Nuernberg, and Leipzig, in that order. They thought that this would entice what they believed to be the whole of the British force present into coming out for a running fight, and in which the old Canopus would be left behind to be finished after the lighter vessels were done for. But all this time the Invincible and Inflexible were silent with their guns, though there was bustle enough aboard them while their coaling was being hurried.

By ten o'clock these two larger ships were ready with steam up and decks cleared, and they came out from behind the hills. Von Spee saw that discretion was the better part of valor and gave orders for his ships to make off at full speed. For a time the two squadrons kept parallel to each other at a distance of twelve miles, with the British squadron—the Invincible and Inflexible leading—north of the German ships. The Baden and Santa Isabel, two transports that had been part of the German squadron, were unable to keep up with the others and headed south, pursued by the Bristol and Macedonia. The two British battle cruisers were faster than any other ships in either squadron, and while pulling up on the German ships were in danger of pulling away from their own ships. To avoid the latter, Admiral Sturdee kept down their speed and was content with taking a little longer to get within gun range of Von Spee's ships. By two o'clock the distance between them was about 16,000 yards; the Invincible and Inflexible had now left the rest of the British squadron far behind and took issue with the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau respectively. The remaining British ships, with the exception of the Carnarvon, gave attention to the three lighter German cruisers and the Eitel Friedrich, which had broken from the first formation and were now pointing southeast.

Von Spee ordered the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau to turn broadside to the enemy. Shells were falling upon the German ships with fair accuracy, but their return fire could do little damage to the British ships, because the range was a little too great for the German 8.2-inch guns. Those of the Inflexible and Invincible were of the 12-inch type.

All four ships were belching forth heavy black smoke that hung low over the water after it left the funnels. A moderate breeze carried it northward, and Von Spee moved his ships this way and that till his smoke blew straight against the guns of the British ships, making it almost impossible for the British gunners to take aim and note effect. But the superior speed of the two British battle cruisers stood them in good stead, and their commanders brought them up south of the enemy—on their other side. It was now the German gunners who found the smoke in their faces, and the advantage was with the British.

By three o'clock in the afternoon fire had broken out on the Scharnhorst and Von Spee replied to Sturdee's inquiry that he would not quit fighting, though some of his guns were out of action and those which still replied to the Britisher did now only at intervals. There was evidently something wrong with the machinery that brought shells and ammunition to her guns from out of her hold, the fire probably interfering with it. A 12-inch shell cut right through her third funnel and carried it completely off the ship. She turned so that she could bring her starboard guns into action, and they did so feebly. The fire on board her grew worse and worse, and it could be seen blood-red through holes made by the shells from the Invincible whenever her hull showed through the dense clouds of escaping steam that enveloped her. Just at four o'clock she began to list to port, thus having her starboard guns put out of action, for they pointed toward the sky, and the shells which came from them described parabolas, dropping into the water at safe distance from the English ship. More and more she listed, till her port beam ends were in the cold waters of the South Atlantic, and while in that position she sank some fifteen minutes later.

Meanwhile the duel between the Gneisenau and Inflexible had been going on. A 12-inch shell from one of the British cruisers struck one of the after gun turrets of the Gneisenau and swept it overboard. The German ship used the sinking Scharnhorst as a screen and tried to take on both British ships. Still she was able to plant some effective shells against the Invincible as a final reply. By half-past five she was listing heavily to starboard and her engines had stopped. The British ship, thinking she was surely done for, ceased firing at her and watched her for ten minutes, while a single gun on board of her fired at intervals. The three ships Carnarvon, Inflexible, and Invincible now closed in on her and punished her till the flag at her stern was hauled down. But the ensign at her peak continued to fly. Just at six o'clock, with this color still in position, she suddenly heeled to starboard, while the men of her crew made hastily up her slanting decks and then climbed over on to the exposed part of her upturned port side. Many of these unfortunate men had time to jump into the sea, but others were caught when she suddenly disappeared beneath the surface.

There remained the task of picking up her survivors, but they were not numerous, for the shock of the cold water killed a large number. Having picked up those whom they could, the three British ships signaled the news of their victories to the distant cruisers which were fighting it out with the Dresden, Leipzig, Nuernberg, and Eitel Friedrich.

These lighter German cruisers had left the line of battle and had turned southward at just about the time that the action between the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and Inflexible and Invincible began. They started off with the Dresden at the foremost point of a triangle and with the other two at the two remaining points. The Glasgow, Cornwall, and Kent went after them, while the Carnarvon, because her speed was not high enough to accompany them, remained with the battle cruisers. The Glasgow drew up with the German ships first, and at three o'clock began to fire on the Leipzig at a distance of 12,000 yards. As in the other action of that afternoon, the British ship took advantage of the fact that her guns had longer range, and she drew back from the German ships so that their guns could not reach her, though her own shells began to fall upon their decks. It was her object to keep them busy until she could be joined by her accompanying ships.

[Illustration: VICE ADMIRAL SIR DOVETON STURDEE'S ACTION OFF THE FALKLAND ISLANDS. DEC 8, 1914.

This plan shows the track followed by H.M.S. INVINCIBLE (Flagship, Capt. P.T.H. Beamish) and H.M.S. INFLEXIBLE (Capt. R.F. Phillimore) during an action which started at 1.0 pm and finished at 6.0 pm resulting in the sinking of the German armoured cruisers SCHARNHORST (Flagship of Vice Admiral Count Von Spee) and GNIESNAU. The LEIPSIG was engaged and sunk by H.M.S. CORNWALL (Capt. W.M. Ellerton) and H.M.S. GLASGOW (Capt. John Luce) in the near vicinity, also the Nurnberg by H.M.S. KENT (Capt. J.D. Allen). H.M.S. CARNARVON (Flagship of Rear Admiral R.P. Stoddart. Capt. H.L. D'E. Skipwith) was also engaged with SCHARNHORST and GNIESNAU.]

The Cornwall by four o'clock was also near enough to the Leipzig to open fire on her, and three hours later the German cruiser was having a time of it with a large fire in her hold. British faith in heavy armament with long range had again been vindicated. There was something of human interest in this duel between the Glasgow and the Leipzig. In their previous meeting, off Coronel, the German ship had had all the better of it and now the men of the British ship were out for revenge. Consequently the Glasgow signaled to the other British ships: "Stand off—I can manage this myself!" By eight o'clock in the evening the Glasgow had her in bad condition, and the Carnarvon came up to assist in raking her till there was nothing left but a mass of wreckage on her decks. But her flag was still flying and the British ships kept circling around her, thinking she still wished to fight, but not coming near enough to permit the use of her torpedo tubes. Miserable was the plight of the Leipzig's crew, for the two hundred men who were still alive were unable to get to her flag on account of the fire aboard her, and they had to remain inactive while the Carnarvon and Glasgow poured round after round into their ship. Only twelve remained alive at nine o'clock, when she began to list to port. Slowly more and more of the under-water part of her hull showed above the sea, and she continued to heel until her keel was right side up. In this position she sank, a large bubble marking the spot.

When the Nuernberg left the line of German ships at one o'clock, it was the British cruiser Kent that went after her, a vessel more heavily armed than the German ship, yet about a knot slower. But by hard work on the part of the engineers and stokers of the Kent she was able, by five o'clock, to get within firing distance of the Nuernberg. By a strange trick of fate the Kent was sister ship to the Monmouth which had fallen victim to one of the Nuernberg's torpedoes in the battle off Coronel. Here, too, was a duel with human interest in it. In their desire for revenge, the men of the Kent made fuel of even her furniture in order to speed up her engines. Her 6-inch guns now began to strike the German ship, and soon a fire broke out aboard her. She could have ended the German vessel by keeping a fire upon her while remaining too distant to be within range of the Nuernberg's 4-inch guns, but dusk was gathering and an evening mist was settling down upon the water. Consequently the Kent drew nearer to her adversary. The firing of the Nuernberg was then effective and more than twenty of her shells took good effect on the British ship. It was only through prompt action on the part of her crew that her magazine was kept from exploding, for a shell set fire to the passage leading to it.

By seven o'clock in the evening the Nuernberg was practically "blind," for the flames from the fire that was raging on her had reached her conning tower. A member of her crew hauled down her flag, and the Kent, thinking that the fight was over, came close to her. While within a few hundred yards of her, however, she was greeted with new firing from the German cruiser. But this ceased under a raking from the Kent's starboard guns, and once again the flag of the Nuernberg, which had been run up on resumption of shooting, was hauled down. Members of her crew then had to jump into the sea to escape death from burning—the fire was quenched only when she went down at half past seven. The overworked engineers and stokers of the Kent were rewarded for their hard work by being permitted to come on deck to watch the Nuernberg go down, and all were soon engaged in helping to save the lives of the German sailors in the water. Just as the red glow of the sinking Nuernberg was dying down a large four-masted sailing ship, with all sails set, came out of the mist, her canvas tinged red by the flames' rays. Silently she went by, disappearing again into the mist, a weird addition to an uncanny scene.

Chasing the various units of the broken line of German ships had taken the British ships miles from each other, but after ten o'clock they began to reach each other by wireless signals and all made again for Stanley. It was not until the afternoon of the next day, however, that word came from the Kent, for her pursuit had taken her farther than any of the other British ships.

The Bristol and Macedonia had made good in their pursuit of the Santa Isabel and Baden, but in going after the Dresden the Bristol was not successful; the German ship got away in the rainstorm which came up during the evening, and the Bristol, which had hurried out of the harbor at Stanley not quite ready for battle, was unable to keep on her trail. The fast Eitel Friedrich, which as a merchant ship converted into a man-o'-warsman had greater speed than any of the ships on either side, was able to get away also. These two German ships now took up their parts as raiders of allied commerce, and were not accounted for till months later. There was now on the high seas no German squadron.

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CHAPTER XXXVII

SEA FIGHTS OF THE OCEAN PATROL

There were some minor naval operations in the waters of Europe which have been neglected while larger actions elsewhere were recorded. During the month of September, 1914, the British admiralty established a blockade of the mouth of the River Elbe with submarines, and the German boats of the same type were showing their worth also. On August 28, 1914, the day after the raid on Libau by the German cruiser Augsburg, the date of the battle of the Bight of Helgoland, the two Russian protected cruisers Pallada and Bayan, while patrolling the Russian coast in the Baltic Sea, were attacked by German submarines. Surrounded by these small craft, which made poor targets, the two Russian ships sought to escape by putting on full speed, but the former was hit by a torpedo and sank. The other got away.

All of the Allies, with the exception of France, had by the beginning of September, 1914, suffered losses in their navies. The navy of the republic was engaged in assisting a British fleet in maintaining supremacy in the Mediterranean, and kept the Austrian fleet bottled up in the Adriatic Sea. French warships bombarded Cattaro on September 10, 1914, to assist the military operations of the Montenegrin Government. These ships then proceeded to the island of Lissa and there destroyed the wireless station maintained by Austria. The Austrian navy made no appearance while the allied fleets scoured the lower coast of Dalmatia, bringing down lighthouses, destroying wireless stations, and bombarding the islands of Pelagosa and Lesina. On the 19th of September, 1914, they returned to Lissa and landed a force which took possession of it, thus establishing a new naval base against the Central Powers' navies.

Duels between pairs of ships took place in various seas. The career of the raider Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse, a fast converted liner, was ended by the British ship Highflyer, a cruiser, near the Cape Verde Islands, on August 27, 1914, after the former had sunk the merchantman Hyades and had stopped the mail steamer Galician. The greater speed of the German vessel was of no advantage to her, for she had been caught in the act of coaling. What then transpired was not a fight, for in armament the two were quite unequal. She soon sank under the Highflyer's fire, her crew having been rescued by her colliers.

The next duel took place between the Carmania and Cap Trafalgar, British and German converted liners, respectively. They met on September 14, 1914, in the Atlantic off South America. In view of the fact that at the beginning of the war these two ships had been merchantmen and had been armed and commissioned after the outbreak of hostilities, this engagement was something of the nature of those between privateersmen in the old days. In speed, size, and armament they were about equal. For nearly two hours they exchanged shots between 3,000 and 9,000 yards, and markmanship was to determine the victory. The shots from the Carmania struck the hull of the other ship near the water line repeatedly, and the British commander was wise enough to present his stern and bow ends more often than the length of the Carmania's sides. At the end of the fight the German ship was afire and sank. Her crew got off safely in her colliers, and the British ship made off because her wireless operator heard a German cruiser, with which the Cap Trafalgar had been in communication, signaling that she was hastening to the liner's aid.

Only two days before this the British cruiser Berwick captured the converted liner Spreewald in the North Atlantic, where she had been trying to interrupt allied commercial vessels.

Germany kept up her policy of attrition by clever use of submarines and mines. The British battleship Audacious, while on patrol duty off the coast of Ireland in the early days of the war, met with a disaster of some sort and was brought to her home port in a sinking condition. The rigors of the British censorship almost kept the news of this out of the British papers and from the correspondents of foreign papers. It was reported that she had struck a mine, that she had been torpedoed, and that she had been made the victim of either a spy or a traitor who caused an internal explosion. The truth was never made clear. Rumors that she had gone down were denied by the British admiralty some months later, when they reported her repaired and again doing duty, but this was counteracted by a report that one of the ships that was completed after the start of hostilities had been given the same name.

About the sinking of the Hawke there was less conjecture. This vessel had gained notoriety in times of peace by having collided with the Olympic as the latter left port on her maiden voyage to New York. On the 15th of October, 1914, while patrolling the northern British home waters she was made the target of the torpedo of a German submarine and went down, but the Theseus, which had been attacked at the same time, escaped.

Four German destroyers were to be the next victims of the war in European waters. On October 17, 1914, the S-115, S-117, S-118, and S-119 while doing patrol duty off the coast of the Netherlands, came up with a British squadron consisting of the cruiser Undaunted and the destroyers Legion, Lance, and Loyal. An engagement followed, in which damage was done to the British small boats and the four German destroyers were sunk. Captain Fox, senior British officer, had been on the Amphion when she sank the Koenigin Luise and had been rescued after being knocked insensible by the explosion of the mine that sent the Amphion to the bottom.

The exploit of Lieutenant Commander Horton in the British submarine E-9 when he sank the Hela has already been narrated. The same commander, with the same craft, during the first week of October, 1914, proceeded to the harbor of the German port of Emden, whence had sailed many dangerous German submarines and destroyers that preyed on British ships. He lay submerged there for a long period, keeping his men amused with a phonograph, and then carefully came to the surface. Through the periscope he saw very near him a German destroyer, but he feared that the explosion of a torpedo sent against her would damage his own craft, so he allowed her to steam off, and when she was 600 yards away he let go with two torpedoes. The second found its mark, and the S-126 was no more. He immediately went beneath the surface and escaped the cordon of destroyers which immediately searched for him. By October 7 the E-9 was back in Harwich, its home port.

On the 31st of October, 1914, the cross-channel steamer Invicta received the S. O. S. signal and went to rescue the crew of the old British cruiser Hermes, which had been struck by two torpedoes from a German submarine near Dunkirk. All but forty-four of her men were saved.

The next victim of a German submarine was the gunboat Niger, which, in the presence of thousands of persons on the shore at Deal, foundered without loss of life on November 11, 1914. But one of the German submarines was to go to the bottom in retaliation. On the 23d of November the U-18 was seen and rammed off the Scotch coast, and some hours later was again seen near by. This time she was floating on the surface and carrying a white flag. The British destroyer Garry brought up alongside of lier and took off her crew, just as she foundered.

Three days later the Bulwark, a British battleship of 15,000 tons and carrying a crew of 750 officers and men, was blown up in the Thames while at anchor at Sheerness. It was never discovered whether she was a victim of a torpedo, a mine, or an internal explosion. It is possible that a spy had placed a heavy charge of explosives within her hull. Only fourteen men of her entire complement survived the disaster.

It was in November, 1914, also, that the sometime German cruisers Goeben and Breslau, now flying the Turkish flag, became active again. As units in a Turkish fleet they bombarded unfortified ports on the Black Sea on the first day of the month. Retaliation for this was made by the Allies two days later when a combined fleet of French and English battleships bombarded the Dardanelles forts, inflicting a certain amount of damage.

On the 18th of November, 1914, the Goeben and Breslau engaged a Russian fleet off Sebastopol. The composition of this Russian fleet was never made public by the Russian admiralty, but it is known that the Russian battleship Evstafi was the flagship. She came up on the starboard side of the two German ships and opened fire on the nearer, the Goeben, at a distance of 8,000 yards. The latter, hit by the Russian 12-inch guns was at first unable to reply because the first shots set her afire in several places, but she finally let go with her own guns and after a fourteen-minute engagement she sailed off into a fog. Her sister ship the Breslau took no part in the exchange of shots, and also made off. The damage done to the Goeben was not enough to put her out of commission; the Evstafi suffered slight damage and had twenty-four of her crew killed.

While the daring exploits of German submarines were winning the admiration of the entire world for their operations in the northern naval theatre of war, the British submarine commander, Holbrook, with the B-ll upheld the prestige of this sort of craft in the British navy. He entered the waters of the Dardanelles on the 13th of December, 1914, and submerging, traveled safely through five lines of Turkish mines and sent a torpedo against the hull of the Turkish battleship Messudiyeh. The B-ll slowly came to the surface to see what had been the result of her exploit, and her commander, through the periscope saw her going down by the stern. It was claimed later by the British that she had sunk, a claim which was officially denied by the Turks. Her loss to Turkey, if it did occur, was not serious, for she was too old to move about, and her only service was to guard the mine fields. The B-ll after being pursued by destroyers again submerged for nine hours and came successfully from the scene of the exploit.

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CHAPTER XXXVIII

WAR ON GERMAN TRADE AND POSSESSIONS

With the exceptions of the deeds done by the German sea raiders the remaining naval history of the first six months of the war had to do for the most part with British victories. When Von Spee's squadron, with the exception of the light cruiser Dresden, which was afterward sunk at the Island of Juan Fernandez, was dispersed off the Falkland Islands there was no more possibility of there being a pitched fight between German and British fleets other than in the North Sea.

England began then to hit at the outlying parts of the German Empire with her navy. The cruiser Pegasus, before being destroyed by the Koenigsberg at Zanzibar on September 20, 1914, had destroyed a floating dock and the wireless station at Dar-es-Salaam, and the Yarmouth, before she went on her unsuccessful hunt for the Emden, captured three German merchantmen.

As far back as the middle of August, 1914, the capture of German Samoa had been planned and directed from New Zealand. On the 15th of that month an expedition sailed from Wellington, and in order to escape the Gneisenau and Scharnhorst, went first to French New Caledonia, where the British cruisers Psyche, Philomel, and Pyramus were met with. On the 23d of the month, this force, which was augmented by the French cruiser Montcalm and the Australian battleships Australia and Melbourne, sailed first for the Fiji Islands and then to Apia on Upolu Island off Samoa. They reached there on the 30th. There was, of course, no force on the island to withstand that of the enemy, and arrangements for surrender of the place were made by signal. Marines were sent ashore; the public buildings were occupied, the telegraph and telephone wires cut, the wireless station destroyed and the German flag hauled down, to be replaced by the Union Jack. The Germans taken prisoners were rewarded for the kind treatment they had accorded British residents before the appearance of this British force, and were sent to New Zealand.

The next German possession to be taken was that in the Bismarck Archipelago. It was known that there was a powerful wireless station at Herbertshoehen, the island known as New Pomerania. A small landing party was put ashore on the island in the early morning of September 11, 1914, and made its way, without being discovered, to the town. The surprised inhabitants were too frightened to do anything until this party left to go further on to the wireless station. By that time it met with some resistance, but overcame it. A few days later another landing party had captured the members of the staff of the governor of New Pomerania, together with the governor himself, at Bougainville, Solomon Islands, whence they had fled. The wireless stations on the island of Yap, in the Carolines, and on Pleasant Island were destroyed during the following month.

Perhaps the strangest operations of naval character ever performed were the inland "sea" fights in Africa. The great Nyassa Lake in Africa was the scene of this fighting. With its entire western shore in British possession and with a goodly part of its waters within the territory of German East Africa, it was not unnatural that fighting should take place there. Both countries maintained small armed vessels on the lake. The British ship Gwendolen, a 350-ton craft, had been built on the Clyde and had been sent to Nyassa Lake in sections and there assembled and launched in 1898. During August she fought with a German ship and captured it. The fighting on the lake could not, however, determine the success of the military operations taking place in those regions.

The preponderance of British naval strength was beginning to tell severely upon German trade by the end of 1914, and her boast that through her navy she would starve out Germany aroused the German Government greatly. In answer to these British threats, Grand Admiral von Tirpitz, German Secretary of Marine, in an interview given to an American newspaper correspondent, hinted that Germany's retaliation would be a war on British merchant ships by German submarines.

The interview at the time aroused but mild comment; the idea was a new one, and the question immediately arose as to whether such action would be within the limits of international law. For the time being, however, Von Tirpitz's words remained nothing more than a threat. It was not until months later that the threat was made good, and the consequences must form a separate part of this narrative, to be given in Volume III.

The seaplane, the newest naval machine at the time, and as yet an untried factor, was to see maiden service first at the hands of the British, when on the 25th of December a raid on Cuxhaven was made. Seven naval seaplanes attacked a fleet of German cruisers and destroyers lying off Schilling Roads near the German port. The men who thus made history in aviation were Francis E. T. Hewlett, son of the famous novelist, accompanied by seven pilots. A naval force consisting of a light cruiser, a flotilla of destroyers and another of submarines brought up near Helgoland during the morning. When this naval force was first discovered by the lookouts on Helgoland, there immediately appeared approaching from the German base two Zeppelins and a number of German seaplanes, together with some submarines. Meanwhile, from the decks of the British craft there went up the seven British seaplanes.

In order to give them a place for landing after they returned from their raid, it was necessary for the British ships to remain in the vicinity for three hours. The Undaunted and Arethusa, with the rest of the British force, had to "dance" about, dodging the submarines which were attacking them from beneath the surface of the water and the aircraft hovering over them. Bombs dropped from the latter failed to find their targets, and by swift maneuvering the torpedoes shot at them were also caused to go far wide of the mark.

The British airmen dropped their bombs on points of military importance at Cuxhaven, but their effect was kept secret by the German authorities. Six of the seven returned to the squadron and were picked up by submarines. Three of the seaplanes were wrecked and had to be abandoned. Fog not only prevented the British airmen from doing their best work, but it kept the marksmen on the German aircraft also from hitting the ships on the waters beneath them. This raid had been made in answer to a great outcry that had gone up from the British public after German warships had raided the eastern coast of England.

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CHAPTER XXXIX

RAIDS ON THE ENGLISH COAST

During the first days of November, 1914, the Germans planned and carried out a general surprise for the British navy. After the battle in the Bight of Helgoland, back in August, the British thought that Germany would continue to keep her navy within the protection of her coast defenses, perhaps forever. But such was not her intention.

On the afternoon of November 2,1914, there gathered off some part of Germany's northern shore a squadron consisting of the battle cruisers Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Moltke, the protected cruisers Kolberg, Strassburg, and Graudenz, the armored cruisers Yorck and Bluecher, together with some destroyers. The slowest of these vessels could make a speed of 25 knots, and the fastest, the Graudenz and Moltke, could make 28 knots. The guns of the Bluecher were the heaviest in the squadron, those of her primary battery being 12-inch cannon. Ten-inch guns were on the decks of the other ships.

The first that the rest of the world knew of the gathered force was at evening, November 2, 1914, when a fleet of British fishermen hailed them with friendly signs, thinking them British ships, not far from Lowestoft some time after six o'clock. The fishermen started at once for their home ports in order to apprise the British authorities, but they had not gone far when the news was flashed to the British admiralty office from the wireless room of the British gunboat Halcyon. But only the first few words of the warning were able to get through, for the wireless operators on the German ships "jammed" their keys, and a few shots from the German guns were sufficient to bring down the wireless apparatus of the gunboat as well as one of her funnels. She turned off and made for her home port to report the news some hours later.

It was only ten miles from the British shores that the Halcyon had sighted the German ships, but they were able, nevertheless, to elude all British warships in those regions and proceeded to Yarmouth, firing at the wireless station, the naval yards, and the town itself. Fearing mines near the coast, the German commander did not attempt to come in too close, with the result that many of the German shots fell short, and, in spite of the fact that the bombardment lasted for nearly half an hour, the damage done by them was not great.

The inhabitants of the towns of Lowestoft and Yarmouth were asleep in the early hours of the morning when they first heard the booming of the German guns. In the darkness of the British winter they hurriedly went down to the water front, where, far out at sea, they could make out faintly the hull of but one vessel, but the red flashes from the booming guns showed that other ships were present. The crowds on the shore watched two British destroyers and two submarines, which had been lying in the harbor, put out after the German force. The latter by that time had started off, dropping in its wake a number of floating mines. This strategy resulted in the loss of the submarine D-5, which hit one of the mines and sank immediately. The German cruiser Yorck was claimed by the British to have hit a mine also, with the result that she sank and carried down with her some 300 of her crew. This was denied later by the German admiralty, and like all such controversies must remain a secret with the officials of both Governments.

Judged by material effects, this raid was a failure. But in view of the fact that the Germans had shown that a squadron could actually elude the large number of British warships patrolling the North Sea, and was actually able to strike at the British coast, it was a moral victory for Germany.

"We must see clearly that in order to fight with success we must fight ruthlessly, in the proper meaning of the word." These were the words of Count Reventlow, when he heard the news of the defeat of the German squadron commanded by Von Spee off the Falkland Islands. As a result, and in revenge for this defeat, the German admiralty planned a second raid on the coast towns of England. The towns chosen for attack this time were Hartlepool, Scarborough, and Whitby. The first of these was a city of 100,000 persons, and its principal business was shipbuilding. Scarborough was nothing more than a seaside resort, to which each summer and at Christmas were attracted thousands of Englishmen who sought to spend their vacations near the water. Whitby, though it had some attractions for holiday crowds, such as a quaint cathedral, was at most nothing more than a home port for a number of fishing boats.

It was claimed later by the Germans that these three towns, according to the accepted definitions in international law, were fortified ports, and consequently open to attack by hostile forces. In reply the British claimed that there was nothing in any of the three which could bring them into that category. This controversy is still another which must remain undecided. There is, however, the fact that the information which the German Government had obtained about them, and which it made public, must necessarily have been less comprehensive than that supplied to the world at large by the British authorities. Guidebooks, as well as tourists who have visited the place, reported that an old castle stood in Scarborough which in past centuries had been a fort, but which at the outbreak of the war was nothing more than a show place. The only gun in place at the castle was an obsolete piece that had seen service in the Crimean War. Whitby, in times of peace, at least, had not even such "armament."

It was on the 16th of December, 1914, that this second raid took place. Over the North Sea there hung a light mist. The German admiralty did not afterward make public the names of the cruisers which participated in this expedition, but they are believed to have been the Derfflinger, Bluecher, Von der Tann, Seydlitz, and Graudenz. It was at eight o'clock in the morning that the residents of the three English towns first heard the booming of the German guns, and coast guards near by were able, with the aid of very strong glasses, to make out the hulls of the attacking cruisers some miles out to sea. It was not thought possible that the Germans could again elude the British ships on patrol in these waters, and the guards therefore thought that the firing came from ships flying the Union Jack and tried to signal to them. But they came to realize the truth when they received no answering signals.

As it was not known but that the Germans would make an attempt to land, the guards in the obsolete fort at Hartlepool took their positions and two small patrol boats in the harbor made ready to give what resistance they could. These, the Doon and the Hardy, drew the fire of the German guns, and, seeing it was impossible to withstand the German fire, they made off and escaped. This time the Germans were better informed about the conditions they dealt with, and evidently had no fear of mines, for they came to within two miles of the shore. The forts on shore were bombarded and private houses near by were hit by German shells, killing two women who lived in one of them. The forts tried to reply to the German guns, but those of the English battery were by no means modern, and firing them only served to further convince the Germans that the place was fortified; they inflicted no damage on the German ships.

The lighthouse was the next target chosen by the Germans, one of their shells going right through it, but leaving it standing. Within fifty minutes 1,500 German shells were fired into the town and harbor. While two of the three cruisers which were engaged in bombarding drew off further to sea and fired at Hartlepool, the third remained to finish the battery on shore, but in spite of the fact that it was subjected to long and heavy firing, it was not so terribly damaged. Many of the shells from the other two ships went over the towns entirely and buried themselves in the countryside that heretofore had been turned up only by the peaceful plow. Other shells did havoc in the business and residential sections of Hartlepool and West Hartlepool, bringing down buildings and killing civilians in them as well as on the streets.

At about the same hour the coast guards near Scarborough reported the approach of foreign ships off the coast, and then telephoned that the strangers were German cruisers and that they had begun to bombard the town. A German shell destroyed the shed from which the telephone message had come and the warnings from it ceased. It was seen by those on shore that the attack here was being made by four ships, two of them cruisers and two of them mine layers, only 800 yards out in the water. This time they were not handicapped by the fact that they had to stand out so far from shore, and it was a surprise to the natives to see ships of such draft come so close to land—a fact which convinced the British authorities that spies had been at work since the first raid, sending to the German admiralty either charts or detailed descriptions of the region.

The castle was badly damaged by their fire; the town itself came next, the Grand Hotel coming in for its share of destruction. They did little injury to a wireless station in the suburbs, but hit quite a number of residences, the gas and water works.

Half an hour afterward the two cruisers which had fired upon Scarborough appeared off Whitby and began to fire at the signal station there. In the ten minutes that the bombardment of Whitby lasted some 200 shells fell into the place. This time the fact that the German ships came close to the shore worked against them, for there are high cliffs close to the water at the spot and it was necessary for the German gunners to use a high angle, which did not give them much chance to be accurate. The German ships next turned seaward and made for their home ports.

The scenes enacted in the three towns during the bombardment and afterwards were tragic. Considering the fact, however, that the persons under fire were civilians, many of them women and children, their coolness was remarkable. They did not know what should be done, for the thought of bombardment was the last thing that had come into the minds of the authorities when England went to war, and as a result no instructions for such an emergency had been issued by the authorities. Some thought it best to stay within doors, some thought it best to go into the streets. In Hartlepool a large crowd gathered in the railway station, some fully dressed, some only in night clothes.

Many of the women carried babies in their arms and were followed by older children who clung to their skirts. Policemen led this crowd out of the station and started them along a street which would bring them out into the country, but while they were passing the library they were showered by the stone work as it fell when hit by the German shells. One shell, striking the street itself, killed three of the six children who were fleeing along it in company with their mother. Many other persons met deaths as tragic either within their own homes or on the streets. St. Mary's Catholic Church as well as the Church 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 torpedo struck and damaged the engine room so much that no lights could be turned on. In the darkness they hurried to the deck, which was slanting from her list. In obedience to orders issued by the admiralty after the sinking of the Cressy and the ships with her, the rest of the fleet immediately sailed away from the scene, so that no more of them would be hit. Only a light cruiser stood by the sinking Formidable. A second torpedo struck her and this had the effect of letting water into her hold on the side which was slowly coming out of the water. She took a position with even keel after that, and this fact enabled most of her crew to get off safely before she sank.

Once more the Germans were to attempt a raid on the coast cities of England. The date of this third attempt was January 24, 1915. This time the British were a bit better prepared, for a squadron of battle cruisers, consisting of the Lion, Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable, put out from a port in the north of England at about the same time that the Germans left their base. All of these ships, with the exception of the last named, were quite fast, having speeds of from 25 to 28.5 knots; they were at the same time carrying heavy armament—13.5-inch guns in the main batteries. In company with them went four cruisers of what is known in England as the "town class"; these were the Nottingham, Birmingham, Lowestoft, and Southampton, together with the three light cruisers Arethusa, Aurora, and Undaunted, and a squadron of destroyers. The German fleet which was engaged in this raid consisted of the Seydlitz, Moltke, Derfflinger, and Bluecher, in company with a fleet of destroyers. The German ships were not quite as fast as the English ships, nor did they carry guns of such range or destructive power as their British opponents.

Early in the first hours of January 24, these two forces, unknown to each other were steaming head on, the Germans taking a course leading northwest and the English a course leading southeast. At twenty minutes past seven in the morning the Aurora first sighted the enemy and engaged him immediately with her two 6-inch guns, sending at the same time word of her discovery to Admiral Beatty. Admiral Hipper, the German commander, as soon as he knew the enemy had sighted him, turned about and started to steam in a southeasterly direction.

In view of the results of this battle, it is best to go into the matter of the tactics involved. Tactics may be of two kinds—spontaneous or premeditated. When two hostile fleets meet on the high sea far from the base of either, the object of each is the complete destruction of the other, and the tactics employed are spontaneous. Such an action was that off Coronel. But on a closed sea such as the North Sea spontaneous tactics can rarely be used, for the reason that naval bases are too near, and from these there may slyly come reenforcements to one or the other or to both of the fighting fleets, making the arrangement of traps an easy matter. This is particularly true of the North Sea, on which it is possible for a fleet to leave Cuxhaven early in the evening and to be at Scarborough early the following morning. In addition, sailing is restricted because an unusually large portion of its waters is too shallow to permit of the passage of large ships.

The Germans on this occasion had arranged a trap. They knew that after making two successful raids on the English coast the British would keep even a closer watch for them. When they sailed from their base, it was with the expectation of meeting a hostile force, as was undoubtedly their expectation on the first two raids. But they did not intend to fight matters out on high waters. What they wanted to do was to get the British involved in a good running engagement, steering a southeasterly course the while and luring the British ships within striking force of a waiting fleet of superdreadnoughts and perhaps land guns and mines. This explains why Admiral Hipper turned stern as soon as he got into touch with the enemy.

There was a distance of fourteen miles between the two fleets when the Lion got her heavy guns into action. The German line was off her port (left) bow. At the head of that line was the Moltke, and following her came the Seydlitz, Derfflinger, Bluecher, and the destroyers in the order given. At the head of the British line was the Lion, followed by the Tiger, Princess Royal, New Zealand, and Indomitable in the order named. The other cruisers and the destroyers of the British fleet brought up the rear. In the chase which followed the Germans were handicapped by the fact that the Bluecher was far too slow to be brought into action, which meant that either the other ships must leave her behind to certain destruction or that they must slow down to keep with her. They chose the latter course, while her stokers did their best to increase her speed. In the English fleet there was the same trouble with the Indomitable, but inasmuch as the British were the pursuers and had a preponderance in ships and in the range of their guns, this did not matter so much to them. But the stokers of the Indomitable worked as hard, if not harder, than those of the Bluecher.

By half past nine the two forces were seven miles apart and the battle was on. It is necessary here to give certain facts about gunnery on a large modern battleship. Firing at a range of seven miles means a test of mathematics rather than of the mere matter of pointing guns. At that distance the target—the ship to be hit—is barely visible on the sky line on the clearest and calmest sea. If a hole the size of the head of a pin be made in a piece of cardboard and the latter he held about a foot and a half from the eye, the distant ship will just about fill the hole.

The guns on the modern battleships are not "laid"; that is, they are not aimed as were the cannon of past days or the rifle of today. It is set toward its target by two factors. The first is known as "traverse," which means how far to the left or right it must be pointed in a horizontal plane. The second factor is "elevation"—how far up or down it must be pointed in a vertical plane. The latter factor determines how far it will throw its projectile, and up to a certain point the higher the gun is pointed the further will go the shell. A certain paradox seems to enter here. It is a fact that a distant ship presents a target more easily hit if its bow or stern is toward the gunner. If it presents a broadside there is the danger that the shells will go either beyond the ship or will fall short of it, for the greatest beam on a warship is not much more than 90 feet. If the bow or stern is toward the gunner he has a chance of landing a shell on any part of the 600 or more feet of the ship's length. The first firing in a battle at a distance is known as "straddling," by which is meant that a number of shots are sent simultaneously, some falling short, some falling beyond the target, and some hitting it.

The man who really "aims" the gun never sees what he is shooting at. At some point of vantage on his ship one of the officers observes the enemy and reports to the chief gunner the distance, the direction, and the effect of the first shots. The gunnery officer then makes certain calculations, taking into consideration the speed of his own ship and the speed of the enemy ship. He knows that at a given moment his target will be at a given point. He knows also just how fast his shells will travel and makes calculations that enable him to place a shell at that point at just the right second. In this battle the shells of the British ship took about twenty seconds to go from the mouths of the guns to the German hulls. And they made a curve at the highest point of which they reached a distance of more than two miles; and most wonderful of all was the fact that at the beginning of the firing a man standing on the deck of one of the German ships could not even see the ship which was firing the shells at her, though the weather was very clear.

By a quarter to ten o'clock the Lion had come up with and had passed the slow Bluecher, firing broadsides into her as she went by. The Tiger then passed the unfortunate German ship, also letting her have a heavy fire, and then the Princess Royal did likewise. Finally the New Zealand was able to engage her and later even the slow Indomitable got near enough to do so. By that time the Bluecher was afire and one of her gun turrets, with its crew and gun, had been swept off bodily by a British shell.

Meanwhile the Lion, Tiger, and Princess Royal kept straight ahead till they were able to "straddle" even the leading ship of the enemy's line. The Tiger and Lion poured shells into the Seydlitz, but were unable to do much damage to the Moltke. While they were thus engaged the Princess Royal singled out the Derfftinger for her target. The light British cruiser Aurora, Arethusa, and Undaunted were far ahead of the rest of the British fleet and were firing at the Moltke, but thick black smoke which poured from their funnels as their engines were speeded up got between the gunners of the Lion and their target, the Moltke, completely obscuring the latter. As a result the three light British cruisers were ordered to slow down and to take positions to the rear.

By eleven o'clock there were fires raging on both the Seydlitz and the Derfftinger, and Admiral Hipper decided to try to save his larger ships by sacrificing the destroyers that accompanied them. Consequently the German destroyers put their bows right toward the large British ships and charged, but the fire which they drew was too much for them and they gave up this maneuver.

The British destroyer Meteor, which had been maintaining a perilous position between the battleships, then attempted to torpedo the Bluecher, which had fallen far to the rearward to be abandoned by the rest of the German fleet. Badly damaged as the Bluecher was, the crew of one of her guns managed to get in some final shots, one of them nearly ending the career of the British destroyer. The Arethusa had also come up and prepared to launch a torpedo. Cruiser and destroyer torpedoed her at about the same moment, and later, while within 200 yards of the sinking German ship the Arethusa sent another torpedo at her. She now began to list, although not greatly damaged, on her port side till her keel showed. Her crew showed remarkable bravery.

The men lined up as though at a review and began to sing the German national airs, intending to go to their deaths in that formation. But an officer on the Arethusa shouted to them through a megaphone to jump while they could to save their lives. This had a psychological effect, and as the starboard side of her hull slowly came up her men were seen scrambling on it from behind her taff rail and creeping down toward her keel. Some of them almost walked into the water while she was in that position. Her guns were pointing toward the sky, one of them slowly revolving. Finally, when she was completely upside down she went under. Many of her crew were picked up by British small boats, and her captain, who was one of them, was taken to England, where he died later from the results of this experience and was buried with full naval honors.

The German destroyers had meanwhile come between their own cruisers and those of the enemy and emitted volumes of heavy smoke, which they hoped would form an effective screen between the former and the gunners on the latter. Admiral Hipper then ordered all of his ships to turn northward, in the hope of getting away behind this screen, but the British admiral anticipated this maneuver and changed the course of his ships so that he again had the German ships in view after both fleets had driven through the smoke.

The Lion of the British fleet was chosen as the target for the German ships, and by keeping a concentrated fire upon her were able to do considerable damage. One shell penetrated the bow of the Lion as it was partly lifted out of the water on account of the great speed she was making; this shot hit her water tank and made it impossible for her to use her port engine from that time on. She slowed down. When she fell out of the line it was necessary for Admiral Beatty to leave her, and he transferred his flag to the destroyer Attack. But all of this took time and it was quite long before he was able to rejoin his leading ships. By twenty minutes past twelve he had got aboard the Princess Royal.

Rear Admiral Moore automatically took up command of the British fleet while his senior officer was making these changes. It is not known what Admiral Moore's orders had been, but it is known that he suddenly ordered all ships to cease firing and allowed the German warships to proceed without further engaging them. By the time that Admiral Beatty was again on a battle cruiser the action was virtually over. The Indomitable passed a cable to the crippled Lion and towed the latter home, the rest of the British fleet keeping to the rearward to be ready for possible resumption of fighting.

Much criticism was made by the British press and by laymen on account of the sudden termination of the fight, and there was great complaint in England because the career of all the raiding German ships had not been brought to an end. But when the engagement ended the opposing fleets were within seventy miles of Helgoland, and the German admiralty had ready a fleet of dreadnoughts and another of battle cruisers to engage the British ships when they got within striking distance. By ending the fight when he did the British commander chose not to be led into this trap. Nor was there dissatisfaction in England alone. In Germany the complaint was that the ruse had not worked, and not long afterward Admiral von Ingenohl was replaced as commander of the High Sea Fleet by Admiral von Pohl. None of the blame for the failure was laid at the door of the officer who had actually been engaged in the fighting—Admiral Hipper—which showed that his senior officers had considered the engagement as part of a larger action.

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CHAPTER XL

RESULTS OF SIX MONTHS' NAVAL OPERATIONS

The first six months of naval operations in the Great War came to a close without battle between the main fleets of the navies of the warring nations. The British navy had kept open communication with the Continent, allowing the Expeditionary Force, as well as later military contingents, to get to the trenches in Flanders and France. It had, in addition, made possible the transportation of troops from Canada and Australia. The ports of France were open for commerce with America, which permitted the importation of arms and munitions, and the same privilege had been won for the ports in the British Isles.

The northern ports of the Central Powers were closed to commerce with all but the Scandinavian countries, and the oversea German possessions, where they were accessible to naval attack, had been taken from her. The German and Austrian flags had been swept from the seven seas, with the exception of those on three or four German cruisers that now and then showed themselves capable of sinking a merchantman.

In the four engagements of importance which had been fought by the end of January, 1915, the British had been the victors in three—the battles of the Bight of Helgoland, the Falkland Islands, and the third German raid of January 24, 1915—the Germans had been victors in one—the fight off Coronel.

British and other allied ships were unable to inflict damage on the coast defenses of Germany, but the latter in two successful raids had been able to bombard British coast towns, offsetting in a way the loss of over-sea dominions.



Great Britain, after six months of naval warfare had lost three battleships, the Bulwark, Formidable, and Audacious;[*] the five armored cruisers Aboukir, Cressy, Hogue, Monmouth, and Good Hope; the second-class cruisers Hawke and Hermes; the two third-class cruisers Amphion and Pegasus; the protected scout Pathfinder and the converted liner Oceanic; losses in destroyers and other small vessels were negligible.

[Footnote *: The British admiralty did not clear up the mystery of her disaster.]

Germany had lost no first-class battleships, but in third-class cruisers her loss was great, those that went down being the eleven ships Ariadne, Augsburg, Emden, Graudenz, Hela, Koeln, Koenigsberg, Leipzig, Nuernberg, Magdeburg, Mainz, and the Dresden; she lost, also, the four armored cruisers Bluecher, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and Yorck; the old cruiser Geier (interned); the three converted liners Spreewald, Cap Trafalgar, and Kaiser Wilhelm; and the mine layer Koenigin Luise.

The German policy of attrition had not taken off as many ships as had been lost by Germany herself, and, as England's ships so far outnumbered her own, it may well be said that the "whittling" policy was not successful. She made up for this by having still at large the cruiser Karlsruhe which damaged a great amount of commerce, and by the exploits of her submarines, far outshining those of the Allies.

Russia had lost the armored cruiser Pallada, and the Jemchug, a third-class cruiser, and the losses of the French and Austrian navies were not worth accounting. With regard to interned vessels both sides had losses. While the Germans were unable to use the great modern merchantmen which lay in American and other ports, and had to do without them either as converted cruisers or transports, the Allies were forced to detail warships to keep guard at the entrance of the various ports where these interned German liners might at any moment take to the high seas.

In naval warfare the number of ships lost is no determining factor in figuring the actual victory—the important thing being the existence or nonexistence of the grand fleets of the combatants after the fighting is finished. Viewed from such an angle, the fact that the Allies had left no German ships at large other than those in the North Sea, cannot entitle them to victory at the end of the first six months of war. So long as a German fleet remained intact and interned in neutral ports, naval victory for the Allies had not come, though naval supremacy was indicated.

The fact was apparent, moreover, that while the Central Powers were being deprived of all their trade on the seas, the world's commerce endangered only by submarines was remaining wide open to the Allies.



PART III—THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT

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CHAPTER XLI

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE THEATRE OF WARFARE

World war—the prophecy of the ages—now threatened the foundations of civilization. Whether or not the modern era was to fall under the sword, as did the democracy of Greece and the mighty Roman Empire, was again to be decided on battle grounds that for seventy centuries have devoured the generations. The mountain passes were once more to reverberate with the battle cry—the roar of guns, the clank of artillery, the tramp of soldiery. The rivers were to run crimson with the blood of men; cities were to fall before the invaders; ruin and death were to consume nations. It was as though Xerxes, and Darius, and Alexander the Great, and Hannibal, and all the warriors of old were to return to earth to lead again gigantic armies over the ancient battle fields.

While the war was gaining momentum on the western battle grounds of Europe, gigantic armies were gathering in the East—there to wage mighty campaigns that were to hold in the balance the destiny of the great Russian Empire; the empire of Austria, the Balkan kingdoms-Serbia, Montenegro, Rumania, Bulgaria. The Turks were again to enter upon a war of invasion. Greece once more was to tremble under the sword. Even Egypt and Persia and Jerusalem itself, the battle grounds of the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Trojans, the bloody fields of paganism and early Christianity, were all to be awakened by the modern trumpets of war.

Before we enter upon these campaigns in the East it is well to survey the countries to be invaded, to review the battle lines and travel in these pages over the fighting ground.

The eastern theatre in the first six months of the war, from August 4, 1914, to February 1, 1915, includes the scenes of the fighting in the historic Balkans and in the Caucasus. But the eastern front proper is really that region where the Teutonic allies and the Russians opposed each other, forming a fighting line almost a thousand miles long. It stretches from rugged old Riga on the shores of the Baltic Sea in the far north, down through Poland to the Carpathian Mountains, touching the warm, sunlit hills on the Rumanian frontier. When the total losses of the Great War are finally counted it will probably be found that here the heaviest fighting has occurred.

This is the longest battle line in the world's history. Partly on account of its great length, and partly because of the nature of the country, we see the two gigantic forces in this region locked together in their deadly struggle, swaying back and forth, first one giving way, then the other. This was especially the case in the northern section, along the German-Russian frontier.



As we view the armies marshaling along this upper section, along the Baltic shore, southward, including part of East Prussia as well as Baltic Russia, we look upon the ancient abode of the Lithuanians, supposed to be the first of the Slavic tribes to appear in Europe. Hardly any part of Europe has a more forbidding aspect than this region. There the armies must pass over a flat, undulating country, almost as low in level as the Baltic, and therefore occupied in large part by marshes and lagoons through which they must struggle. In all parts the soil is unproductive. At one time it was a universal forest: thick, dark, and dank. A century ago, however, Catherine the Great distributed large areas of this comparatively worthless land among her favorites and courtiers. In this way a certain percentage was reclaimed, and with the incoming of the sunlight more favorable conditions for human life were established. Yet even now it is very thinly settled.

Through this region the armies must cross big rivers: the Oder, Dvina, Warthe, Vistula, Pregel, and Niemen, northward and northeastward. Just above or eastward of that point, where the German-Russian frontier touches the shore, the Baltic curls into a dent, 100 miles deep, forming the Gulf of Riga. Near the southern extremity of this gulf, eight miles from the mouth of the Dvina, is the city of Riga, ranking second only to Petrograd in commercial importance as a seaport, and with a population of about 300,000.

As the armies move across the frontier they come to a vast domain projecting into this marsh country, like a great, broad tongue licking the shore of the Baltic; this wide strip of German territory is East Prussia—a country to be beleaguered. Not far below the tip of this tongue, about five miles from the mouth of the Pregel River in the Frische Haff, and about twenty-five miles from the seacoast, is situated another embattled stronghold—the city of Koenigsberg which, since 1843, has been a fortress of the first rank. These two cities in the following pages will be the immediate objectives of the enemy forces operating on this section of the eastern front.

It will be obvious why the lines of battle were less permanently fixed here than in the more solid and mountainous sections of northern France. Railroads and fairly well-laid highways do indeed traverse these swamps in various parts, especially in German territory, but trenches could not be dug in yielding mire. In yet another feature were the military operations hampered by the nature of the terrain here; the use of heavy artillery.

We have seen that one of the chief causes of success attending German attacks in the other theatres of the war has been their use of heavy guns. But in the fighting before Riga, we shall see when the Germans seemed on the point of taking that city their heavy artillery was so handicapped that it was rendered practically useless. Being restricted by the marshes to an attack over a comparatively narrow front, they were compelled to leave their heavy guns behind on firmer soil. The guns which they could take with them were matched by the Russians; the fighting was, therefore, almost entirely limited to infantry engagements, in which the Russians were not inferior to the Germans. Thus, we shall find the German advance on Riga was stopped before it could attain its object.

In studying the fighting in this part of the eastern front, it will be seen why the Germans were more successful below Riga, and why the Russians were compelled to evacuate Vilna. Here is a broad rise, something like the back of a half-submerged submarine, which seems to cross the country, where the land becomes more solid. The armies must move, instead of through marshes, along innumerable small lakes, most of the lakes being long and narrow and running north and south, with a fairly thick growth of timber among them, mostly pine and spruce and fir. In character this section is rather similar to parts of Minnesota. There are two cities to be conquered in this drier region, Dvinsk, and, further south, Vilna, once the chief city or capital of the Lithuanians. We shall see the Russians thrust back from Koenigsberg, and the heavy fighting shifted over to this section; yet even here, where the huge guns of the Germans could find footing, the terrain was not suited to trench warfare, and every arrival of reenforcements on either side would swing the lines back or forth.

In studying the military movements in a country of this character, special attention must be paid to the railway lines. Railways, and more especially those running parallel to the fronts, are absolutely necessary to success. In looking, therefore, for a key to the object of any particular movement, the first step must be a close study of this railroad situation.

We find from Riga to the fortress of Rovno there is a continuous line of railroad, running generally north and south and passing through Dvinsk, Vilna, Lida, Rovno, and thence down through Poland to Lemberg. Every effort of the Russian armies in the succeeding chapters will be made to keep to the westward of and parallel to this line, and for a very good reason.

Feeding into this great north and south artery are the branch lines from Petrograd to Dvinsk; from Moscow to the junction at Baranovitschi; from Kiev to Sarny. Aside from these three important branch lines, there are a few other single-track offshoots, but from a military point of view they are of no importance.

This line was the main objective (short of capturing Riga itself) of the German operations. This line proves especially vital to the Russians, for nowhere east of it is there another such line which could be used for the same purpose.

If, in the campaigns to be described, this railroad falls into Russian hands, it gives every facility for strengthening or reenforcing any part of the Russian front where German pressure becomes excessive. It is, in addition, a solution to the difficult problem of transportation of supplies. To use a military term, it gives the Russian army a mobility not possessed by the enemy because of a lack of similar facilities.

But should this railroad be taken by the Germans, the advantage would immediately be reversed. And if once the Russian lines were driven back beyond the railroad, a division of their forces would be forced upon them; their armies would be obliged to group themselves beside the three east and west branches already mentioned, for only by these three systems could their forces be supplied, lateral communications being absolutely lacking. And this is the key to the fighting, not only in the northern section of the front, but all along the line, down to Galicia. Naturally, only the Russian railroads need be considered, for in the first months of the war the Germans are the invaders in the northern half of the eastern front, except for a few short periods in the beginning. Compared to the German railway lines near the frontier, the Russian lines are very few.

There are two distinct railway lines running from Germany into East Prussia, with innumerable branches leading to all points of the Russian frontier, laid especially for military purposes. It was along these that we shall witness the German forces rushed from Belgium to drive back the first Russian advance. But, of course, the moment the Germans enter Russian territory they have no advantage over the Russians, since even their wonderful efficiency does not enable them to build railroads as fast as an army can advance. Hence, we observe their efforts to gain possession of the Russian railroads.

We come now to the central part of the eastern front. Here, just below East Prussia, Russian Poland projects into German territory in a great salient, about 200 miles wide and 250 long, resembling a huge bite in shape.

This land is a monotonous, wind-swept plain, slightly undulating, its higher parts not even 500 feet above sea level. To the northward and eastward it descends gradually into the still lower lands of East Prussia and White Russia, but in the south it lifts into the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.

Gigantic armies are to move over this plateau, timbered in parts with oak, beech, and lime, and in some sections deeply cut by small rivers and streams forming fissures, some narrow and craggy, others broad and sloping with marshy bottoms. Toward the south the soldiers must cross narrow ravines in all directions, often covered with wild, thick undergrowth. The chief river is the Vistula, which enters by the southern boundary and flows first north, then northwest, skirting the plateau region at a height of 700 feet, finally making its exit near Thorn, thence on to the Baltic through East Prussia. Its valley divides the hilly tracts into two parts: Lublin heights in the east and the Sedomierz heights to the westward. Picture in your mind the great armies approaching these ridges, the most notable of which is the Holy Cross Mountains, rising peaks almost 2,000 feet above sea level.

The fighting forces in the northeast, where the plain slopes gradually into the Suwalki Province, must pass over a country dotted with lakes and lagoons, which farther on take on the character of marshes, stagnant ponds, peat bogs, with small streams flowing lazily from one to the other. Here and there are patches of stunted pine forests, with occasional stretches of fertile, cultivated soil. Throughout this section many rivers flow along broad, level valleys, separating into various branches which form many islands and, during the rainy seasons, flood the surrounding country.

Farther west the armies pass through broad valleys or basins, once the beds of great lakes, whose rich, alluvial soil give forth abundant crops of cereals. Here, too, flows the Niemen, 500 miles in length, watering a basin 40,000 square miles in area and separating Poland from Lithuania. It advances northward in a great, winding pathway, between limestone hills covered with loam or amid forests, its banks rising to high eminences in places, past ruined castles built in the Middle Ages. In the yellowish soil along its banks grow rich crops of oats, buckwheat, corn, and some rye. Naturally such a section would be thickly populated, not only on account of the fertile soil, but because the Niemen, like the Vistula, is one of the country's means of communication and transportation. As many as 90,000 men earn their livelihoods in navigating the steamers and freight barges passing up and down this great waterway. At Yurburg the Niemen enters East Prussia on its way to the Baltic.

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CHAPTER XLII

THE STRATEGIC VALUE OF RUSSIAN POLAND

It is in the southern part of Russian Poland, among the foothills of the Carpathians, that the armies come into possession of its mineral resources, a fact which will have some influence on the German military movements in this region. Up in the Kielce hills copper has been mined for 400 years, though the value of these mines has decreased on account of the much greater quantity found in America. A hundred years ago the Kielce mines produced nearly 4,000 tons of copper a year. Brown iron ore is also found here in deposits 40 per cent pure, while there are also veins of zinc sometimes 50 feet thick, yielding ore of 25 per cent purity. Sulphur, one of the ingredients for the manufacture of explosives, is found at Czarkowa in the district of Pinczow. In the southwest, in Bedzin and Olkuz, there are coal deposits about 200 square miles in area. In the southern districts wheat is also grown in some abundance.

The military value of this country is further enhanced by political conditions. Like the greater part of Galicia to the southward, it is peopled by the Poles, who form one of the important branches of the great Slavic family. At one time Poland was a kingdom whose territory and possessions spread from the Carpathians up to the Baltic and far into the center of Russia, ruling its subject peoples with quite as much rigor as the Poles have themselves been ruled by Russia and Germany.

Poland is a seat of conquest in the Great War. For not much over a hundred years ago what remained of this old kingdom was divided among the three great powers: Prussia, Austria, and Russia. Austria, on the whole, has been much the best master. Germany tried in various ways to Germanize her subjects in German Poland, thereby rousing their bitter hatred. Russia was no less autocratic in attempting to extinguish the spirit of nationality among the Poles under her rule. But, naturally, the fact remains that between the Poles and the Russians there are still ties of blood. In moving westward, by this route Russia would be moving among a race who, in spite of all they had suffered at the hands of the Czar, still would naturally prefer Slav to Teuton.

We shall soon stand with the invading armies in the center of Russian Poland, and enter the great city of Warsaw. This conquered citadel with more than 400,000 inhabitants, is situated on the Vistula. It was, next to Paris, the most brilliant city of Europe in the early part of last century. But under Russian influence it became a provincial town in spirit, if not in size. It once had the character of prodigal splendor; within late years it became a forlorn, neglected city, not the least effort being made by the Russian authorities to modernize its appearance and improvement. From a sanitary point of view it became one of the least progressive cities of Europe. And yet, as the armies march into the capital, there are still signs of the city's past glory: over thirty palaces rear their lofty turrets above the tile roofs of the houses, among them the palace of the long-dead Polish kings.

However, from a military point of view, Warsaw maintained great importance in the Great War. It is at this time one of the strongest citadels of Europe, and around it lies the group of fortresses called the Polish Triangle. The southern apex is Ivangorod on the Vistula; the eastern, Brest-Litovsk; the northern being Warsaw itself. To the northwest lies the advanced fort of Novo Georgievsk. This triangle is a fortified region with three fronts: two toward Germany and one toward Austria, and the various forts are fully connected by means of railroads.