For various reasons, which we have not room to discuss here, the Germans had made up their minds that in August, 1914, Great Britain would not fight, and that they would be able to carry out their programme against France, Russia, and Belgium, after which they would decide exactly their selected moment to attack us. At the outbreak of war their High Seas Fleet was apparently lying in different deep fiords on the Norwegian coast. What it was doing there, goodness only knows; but we may be sure it was not for anybody's good, except, possibly, Germany's.

Anyway, these ships were not in a position to carry out the programme laid down for war with England, and so scurried back to the security of their fortified bases. So, also, they were not quite ready for raiding our commerce. Still, they were able to put a good many cruisers, regular and auxiliary, on the ocean highways, and for a time gave us a good deal of trouble. In the Mediterranean they had the big battle-cruiser Goeben and the small cruiser Breslau, and on the morning of 4th August these two ships bombarded Bona and Philippeville on the Algerian coast. They did but little damage; in fact, it was merely a "runaway knock". The next morning they arrived at Messina, a neutral port, where they had either to remain indefinitely and be disarmed or leave within a prescribed period. The German officers decided to leave, and after a theatrical business of devoting themselves to death, and depositing their wills and private papers with the German Consul—taking good care to report this to the Berlin Press, which published glowing accounts of the "mad daring" of their devoted seamen—they got under way and steamed out, with colours flying and bands playing.

Soon after midnight—6th-7th August—the look-outs on board the Gloucester, a light cruiser carrying no heavier gun than a 6-inch, "spotted" them moving along under cover of the land. After steering a parallel course for some time she crossed their sterns to get between them and the land in order to see them better, and hung closely to them all night and morning. "We let the two ships go on under cover of the darkness," wrote one of the crew, "and they were moving without lights at about 23 knots, and then followed almost at full speed. The Goeben went on ahead, and the Breslau not far behind her. Just about two o'clock the Breslau slowed down.... As far as we could tell she fired two torpedoes ... and then discharged several salvoes from her 4-inch guns. We at once replied with our fore 6-inch gun, and, although it was dark, we found that with the second shell we cleared her quarter-deck.... Neither the torpedoes nor shells from the Breslau hit their mark.... Although they were slightly faster vessels, we kept our distance from them without losing anything all day, and in the afternoon sighted the Greek coast after having made the fastest run across that open bit of water that ever was made. The weather was fine, and there was not a sight of another war-ship except the Germans.... When they were off Cape Matapan, the most southerly point of the Greek mainland, the Breslau stopped again, as she had done in the night, and waited for us to come on. This time we did not wait for her to open fire, but discharged our fore 6-inch gun directly we got within range."[89]

"After the first shot," wrote another Gloucester, "our lads were quite happy, and they kept firing as quickly as possible. One chap near swallowed his 'chew of 'baccy' when the first shot fell short. The next one he spat on for luck, and it took half the Breslau's funnel away. He repeated the operation on the next shot, which cleared her quarter-deck and put her after-gun out of action. Then he began to smile."[90]

This interchange of compliments lasted nearly five-and-twenty minutes. The Breslau fired heavily, but, though her gunnery was good, she had nothing bigger than a 4-inch gun, and the Gloucester was so well handled by her captain—W. A. H. Kelly, M.V.O.—that every salvo arrived just after she had left the spot where it arrived. At last the big Goeben turned slowly round and approached the plucky little British cruiser and opened fire, but without effect. As a single shot from her heavy guns would have put the Gloucester out of action, and probably sunk her, she withdrew in accordance with her instructions. The Goeben and Breslau eventually arrived at Constantinople, where the farce of a sale to Turkey was carried out; but they left behind a good deal of the prestige of the German Navy and a new phrase for our bluejackets' vocabulary—the "Goeben glide"—that is, to "skedaddle rather than fight".

About five German cruisers were known to be in the Atlantic, and a considerable force of both our own and the French cruisers set to work to "round them up". The KÖnig Wilhelm der Grosse, a big armed mercantile cruiser of 14,000 tons and ten 4-inch guns, was "bagged" by the Highflyer off the Oro River on the West African coast on 26th August. She had sunk three of our merchantmen, and was holding up a couple more when the Highflyer hove in sight. The German, a much faster vessel, was made fast to a captured collier, from which she was coaling, which enabled the Highflyer, which dated from 1900, to get within range with her heavier guns. "If all British ships shoot as straight as the Highflyer," said the captain of KÖnig Wilhelm der Grosse, "I shall be sorry for our poor fellows in the North Sea." Nearly a month later the Carmania, a big armed liner, sank the Cap Trafalgar, a similar vessel—which was disguised as a "Castle" liner with grey hull and red funnels—off the Island of Trinidad to the eastward of Rio de Janeiro.

"We sighted the German", wrote an officer on board the Carmania, "about 10 a.m. on 14th September, in the South Atlantic. She was coaling from a collier, and two others were standing off. On sighting us the Cap Trafalgar hurried off, smothering the colliers, and soon after the latter steered to the eastward and the Cap Trafalgar to the southwards. We steamed after her at top speed, and when about 4 miles off, she turned and steered towards us. We were cleared for action, and had been standing by our guns for some time, all strangely fascinated by the movements of our enemy. When about 3½ miles off we fired our challenge shot across her bows, and immediately after this she displayed her colours at the masthead, and fired her first shot from her starboard after-guns. This shot came right close over our heads, dropping in the water. Then the firing from both ships became fast and furious. Projectiles and splinters from bursting shells showered around us. The engagement began at 12.10 midday and lasted hot until about 1.10 p.m., when she showed signs of having been badly hit, and was taking a heavy list to starboard, and was on fire fore and aft. We were also on fire on our fore-bridge. Our bridge-telegraphs and steering-gear were completely wrecked, and the captain's cabin, the chart-house, and a number of officers' quarters were gutted. We were also badly holed by her fire. When we found we had crippled our enemy, and that she was sinking, we ceased firing, although her colours were still flying. She gradually listed over till her funnels nearly touched the water. Then she settled down forward till her second funnel almost disappeared. At last she rolled over, showing her keel and propellers, stood up on end, and gradually assumed a perpendicular position and dived out of sight.

"We could make out some boats with survivors, and one of the colliers rendered assistance. We had to clear away, because low down on the horizon the signalman saw smoke and what appeared to be the Dresden. We steered away south, and then doubled on our course. By that time darkness was setting in, and we thus escaped her clutches."

An auxiliary cruiser, of course, would not stand much chance in a duel with a man-of-war cruiser, as was shown by that between the Highflyer and the KÖnig Wilhelm der Grosse, a much newer, larger, and faster ship. Rather later in the year the Navarra, another German auxiliary cruiser of the Hamburg-Amerika line, was sunk also in South Atlantic waters by the British auxiliary cruiser Orama, an Orient liner. The Germans do not appear to have put up much of a fight, and the British gunnery proved much superior, but details are wanting.[91]

If space permitted, a good deal more might be written about the cruiser operations in the Atlantic, but we have now to turn our attention to the Indian Ocean. The first incident to be noticed is an adverse one to the British. The Pegasus, a small cruiser dating from 1899, after having in conjunction with the Astrea destroyed the German wireless station at Dar-es-Salem, and sunk the gunboat MÖwe and a floating-dock, was caught while overhauling her machinery in the harbour of Zanzibar by the German light cruiser KÖnigsberg, a much newer vessel.

The KÖnigsberg approached at full speed at five o'clock on Sunday morning, 20th September, and, having sunk the British patrol boat by three shots, opened fire on the Pegasus from 5 miles distance, closing to 7000 yards. The Pegasus, being at anchor, presented an easy target, and the German fire was so well directed that in a quarter of an hour the only guns she could bring to bear were put out of action.

After an interval the German re-opened fire for another fifteen minutes, after which she stood out to sea. The British crew, caught under such disadvantageous circumstances, showed true heroism, though, as may be supposed, they suffered very severely. The ensign was twice shot away, but afterwards held up proudly by hand by two men of the detachment of Royal Marines, who stationed themselves in the most conspicuous place they could find. One was killed by a shell and his place was at once taken by another comrade. The Pegasus was holed badly on the water-line, her fires had to be put out, and she was run aground in shallow water but subsequently driven by wind and tide into deeper water, where she sank.

It was at about this time that the German light cruiser Emden began to gain notoriety. She had belonged to the German squadron in China, but had slipped away south, and now began to sink one after another of our merchantmen in the Indian Ocean. This was in contravention of international law, but as, generally speaking, her commander, Captain MÜller, saved their crews, and showed both dash and humanity, the British public were more or less inclined to look with a lenient eye on his semi-piratical proceedings. He fired a few shots at Madras and destroyed an oil-tank, and at Singapore torpedoed the Jemtchug, a Russian gunboat, and the Mousquet, a French destroyer. The Emden was enabled to approach unsuspected on account of having rigged up an extra funnel and hoisted Japanese colours. However, her day was yet to come.

By this time British, Russian, Japanese, and French cruisers in the East were on the qui vive, as well as those belonging to the newly-formed fleet of the Australian Commonwealth, and it is to one of the Australian cruisers, the Sydney, that the honour of ridding the seas of the "wanted" Emden belongs. On 9th November the raiding German arrived at the Cocos Keeling Islands, an isolated group in the Indian Ocean, and, landing a party of men, set about destroying the British wireless station. Luckily the operators were suspicious of the strange craft, and managed to get off a message which reached the cruisers Melbourne and Sydney in a somewhat broken condition. "Strange warship—off entrance" it ran. This was about seven in the morning, when they were 50 miles to the eastward of the islands, and in charge of a convoy. The Melbourne, as senior officer, ordered the Sydney off at full speed to investigate. Before half-past nine the tops of the Emden's funnels were made out close to the feathery palm tops denoting the position of the Cocos. She was 10 or 14 miles distant, but she "spotted" the Sydney, and very soon opened fire at a tremendous range.

"Shortly after, we started in on her," wrote one of the Sydney's officers.[92] "The Australian opened fire from her port guns. Before long a shot from the Emden knocked out nearly the whole gun's crew of No. 2 gun on the starboard side."

"There was a lot of 'Whee-oo, whee-oo, whee-oo'," continued the officer above quoted, "and the 'But-but-but' of the shell striking the water beyond, and, as the range was pretty big, this was quite possible, as the angle of descent would be pretty steep. Coming aft, I heard a shot graze the top of No. 1 Starboard. A petty-officer now came up limping from aft, and said that he had just carried an officer below (he was not dangerously hit) and that the after-control position had been knocked right out, and everyone wounded (they were marvellously lucky). I told him if he was really able to carry on to go aft to No. 2 Starboard and see there was no fire, and, if there was, that any charges about were to be thrown overboard at once. He was very game and limped away aft. He got aft to find a very bad cordite fire just starting. He, with others, got this put out. I later noticed some smoke rising aft, and ran aft to find it was but the remnant of what they had put out, but found two men, one with a pretty badly wounded foot, sitting on the gun-platform, and a petty-officer lying on the deck a little farther aft with a nasty wound in his back. I found one of the men was unwounded but badly shaken. However, he pulled himself together when I spoke to him, and told him I wanted him to do what he could for the wounded. I then ran back to my group.[93]

"All the time we were going at 25 and sometimes as much as 26 knots. We had the speed of the Emden and fought as suited ourselves.... Best of all was to see the gun-crews fighting their guns quite unconcerned. When we were last in Sydney, we took on board three boys from the training-ship Tingira who had volunteered. The captain said: 'I don't really want them, but as they are keen, I'll take them'. Now the action was only a week or two afterwards, but the two out of the three who were directly under my notice were perfectly splendid. One little slip of a boy did not turn a hair, and worked splendidly. The other boy, a very sturdy youngster, carried projectiles from the hoist to his gun throughout the action without so much as thinking of cover. I do think that for two boys absolutely new to their work they were splendid.... Coming aft the port side from the forecastle gun, I was met by a lot of men cheering and waving their caps. I said: 'What's happened?' 'She's gone, sir, she's gone!' I ran to the ship's side and no sign of a ship could I see. If one could have seen a dark cloud of smoke it would have been different. But I could see no sign of anything. So I called out: 'All hands turn out the life-boats; there will be men in the water'. They were just starting to do this when someone called out: 'She's still firing, sir,' and everyone ran back to the guns.

"What had happened was, a cloud of yellow or very light-coloured smoke had obscured her from view, so that looking in her direction one's impression was that she had totally disappeared. Later we turned again and engaged her on the other broadside. By now her three funnels and her foremast had been shot away, and she was on fire aft. We turned again, and after giving her a salvo or two with the starboard guns, saw her run ashore on North Keeling Island. So at 11.20 a.m. we ceased firing, the action having lasted one hour forty minutes. Our hits were not very serious. We were 'hulled' in about three places. The shell that exploded in the boys' mess-deck, apart from ruining the poor little beggars' clothes, provided a magnificent stock of trophies. For two or three days they kept finding fresh pieces. The only important damage was the after control-platform, which is one mass of gaping holes and tangled iron, and the foremost range-finder shot away. Other hits, though 'interesting', don't signify." As for the Emden, she was a perfect shambles. Her voice-pipes had been shot away early in the action, and, with the exception of the forecastle, everything was wrecked on the upper deck. The German party on shore seized a schooner, the Ayesha, and contrived to escape to sea.

Thus ended the adventurous career of the Emden, by far the most successful of the German commerce-raiders. In seven weeks she had destroyed something like 70,000 tons of British shipping, so that the news of her suppression was most welcome in Great Britain. But no one who has not been in Australia will be able to realize the delight and exultation the news of the Sydney's exploit brought to the people of that island continent. That one of their own ships, out of the many that were looking out for the Emden, should so effectively have disposed of her was the most magnificent and acceptable news that could be imagined, and it is hoped that her guns will be salved and placed as trophies in the big Australian cities.

Almost simultaneously another sea-wasp, the KÖnigsberg, the same vessel which had so mauled the Pegasus, besides doing other mischief among our merchant-shipping, was "cornered" by the cruiser Chatham in the Rufigi River on the East Coast of Africa. Harried this way and that by our cruisers, she at last took refuge so far up the river that she was out of range from the Chatham's guns. At the same time she landed a party of her men on an island at the mouth of the river with Maxims and quick-firing guns. Here they entrenched themselves. The British at once sent secretly to Zanzibar and procured a steamer—the Newbridge—loaded with 1500 tons of coal, which, upon arrival, they deliberately anchored across the river channel, in spite of the fire directed upon them by the German detachment on the island. When all was ready, her crew took to their boats, blew three holes in her bottom, and sank her, effectually "bottling up" the KÖnigsberg. Several casualties were incurred during this operation. The German cruiser after this contrived to conceal her exact position for some time, by fastening the tops of palm-trees to her masts, but an aeroplane, being brought down the coast in the Kinfauns Castle, flew over her and indicated her position by means of smoke bombs, enabling her to be fired at, at long range, by the 12-inch guns of the battleship Goliath, which had now arrived on the scene.

Powerful as were the battleship's guns, they were unable to effect her destruction. It was not until several months had elapsed that the British Navy was able to finish off the German cruiser. The work was eventually carried out by the little monitors Severn and Mersey, which had made their debut on the Belgian coast. While the Weymouth and Pioneer engaged the guns on the island and others which had been mounted on the river bank, the two monitors steamed up the river and engaged the KÖnigsberg. The battle lasted for a long time, as the raider was so ensconced in jungle that the airmen who were "spotting" for the British found the greatest difficulty in seeing where their shot fell. Most of the time the German got six guns to bear on the monitors, and generally fired salvoes. After six hours her masts were still standing, but shortly afterwards she was set on fire by a salvo from the monitors. Her effective guns were reduced to one, and before long she ceased fire altogether.