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 KÖnigsberg, 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 KÖnigsberg, 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 KÖnigsberg, 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 KÖnigsberg. Through the ability of her commander, Captain Karl von MÜller, 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller, 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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 MÜller 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.