THE BATTLE OFF THE FALKLAND ISLANDS.
The disastrous battle off Coronel took place on 1st November. Ten days later, in silence and secrecy, the Invincible and the Inflexible, the first two battle cruisers built by Britain, left Plymouth, and steamed at full speed across the Atlantic to the West Indies. On board the Invincible was Vice-Admiral Sir Doveton Sturdee, who was to take command of the avenging squadron. On his voyage to the Falklands he picked up the three armoured cruisers the Carnarvon, the Kent, and the Cornwall; also the light cruiser Bristol, the Glasgow, now repaired, and the Macedonia, an armed liner. He was thus in command of a very formidable force. Each of his two battle cruisers carried eight 12-inch guns, so mounted that they could be fired on either broadside.
How to get into touch with the German squadron was the problem that Sturdee set himself to solve. It is said that he managed it by means of a remarkable piece of "bluff." While his ships were steaming south he sent off a wireless message ordering the Canopus to proceed to Stanley, where she would be perfectly safe under the new guns which had been sent out to strengthen the forts. This message was picked up by the Germans, as it was meant to be. They believed that it was a trick intended to mislead them as to the safety of the Canopus, and that all the talk about forts and new guns was simple nonsense. But one thing the message did tell them, and that was that the Canopus was proceeding to Stanley Harbour, where she would have only the remnants of Cradock's beaten squadron to support her. Von Spee thought she would be an easy prey. He therefore resolved to capture her, and while Sturdee's squadron, all unknown to him, was speeding towards the Falkland Islands, he headed for Cape Horn, and steered towards Stanley.
The British squadron arrived in Stanley Harbour on the morning of 7th December, and coaling at once began. Within the inner harbour lay the Canopus, Glasgow, and Bristol; in the outer gulf were the battle cruisers and the remaining vessels of the squadron. All were perfectly hidden from an enemy in the open sea.
At 7.30 on the morning of 8th December the look-out on Sapper's Hill reported as follows: "Eight ships sighted about twelve miles off, south-east, all making for Stanley." It was von Spee's squadron descending upon Stanley to smash up the unprotected Canopus and destroy the wireless station. The German admiral proposed, when that was done, to dash across the Atlantic to the coast of German South-West Africa, and prevent the landing of a force from Cape Town.
Speedily the great good news that von Spee was walking straight into the trap laid for him reached the British warships. Officers were roused from sleep, and the flag-lieutenant of the Invincible, so the story goes, dashed down to the Admiral's cabin clad only in pyjamas. Sturdee was shaving, and he received the information with the utmost calmness. "Well," he said drily, "you had better go and get dressed. We'll see about it later." I hope this story is true, because it recalls the famous incident when Drake was informed that the Spanish Armada was in sight.
Screened by the land, Sturdee waited for the Germans to draw nearer, so as to make victory doubly secure. At about a quarter to nine the Kent steamed down the harbour, and took up a position at the entrance. The advance ships of the enemy came boldly on, anticipating an easy victory against the feeble force which they imagined to be in the harbour. Then they turned broadside on, with the intention of destroying the wireless station. Directed by officers on the hills above the town, the Canopus from her moorings opened fire over the narrow neck of land, and five shots in quick succession fell around the German ships, which immediately hoisted their colours and wheeled round to close in with the other three vessels of their squadron. Soon the British admiral knew that the ships in the offing were the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, Leipzig, Nürnberg, and Dresden. He could hardly believe his good luck. He had come out to seek this very squadron, and it had come to find him instead.
A few minutes later the two leading cruisers of the enemy altered their course and made directly for the harbour mouth, where the Kent was ready to engage them. Meanwhile the British battle cruisers were rapidly raising steam by means of oil fuel, and while doing so were sending up dense clouds of smoke with which to shroud themselves. Nearer and nearer came the leading ships of von Spee's squadron, and soon their commanders and crews had the surprise of their lives. They could now see the masts and funnels of the battle cruisers, and they knew for the first time that the British were waiting for them in great strength. Van Spee was well aware that he could not cope with such a force. The British ships were faster, and their guns were heavier and of longer range. He had played into the enemy's hands, and only a miracle could save him. Immediately the ships of his vanguard changed direction and hurried back to their consorts.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the sea was calm—one of those rare days which come to the foggy, wind-swept islands like angels' visits, few and far between. Leaving the Canopus in harbour, Admiral Sturdee about ten o'clock ordered the chase to begin, and the Glasgow, followed by the Kent, Invincible, Cornwall, Inflexible, and Carnarvon, steamed out to sea. The colliers and supply ships of the German squadron at once retreated to the south, and the Bristol and Macedonia followed them up. The remainder of van Spee's ships turned tail, and at top speed hurried away eastward. Their only hope lay in flight.
The great gray warships tore through the sunlit seas, the white foam streaming from their bows as they furrowed the waves. The Invincible and the Inflexible soon drew ahead, but had to slacken off to enable the slower cruisers to keep up with them. At about eleven o'clock the position of the ships was as shown in the diagram on the next page.
Von Spee now saw that he was being slowly but surely overtaken, and that he could not escape by flight. He therefore detached his three light cruisers, the Leipzig, Nürnberg, and Dresden, which made off towards the south, followed by the Kent, Cornwall, and Glasgow, while the two British battle cruisers and the Carnarvon steadily gained on the Gneisenau and the Scharnhorst. They were soon within striking distance; 15,000 or 16,000 yards of sea separated them from the enemy. Admiral Sturdee however, was in no hurry to engage, and ordered his men to dinner. He even gave them time for a comfortable smoke after their meal. Just after a quarter to one he made this signal: "Open fire and engage the enemy."
The men flew to their stations, and with the utmost eagerness obeyed the short, sharp orders. The ranges were signalled, the big guns were aimed, and suddenly the air quivered with the thunder of their discharge. There was a gleam of fire at their muzzles, followed by dense clouds of smoke, as the shells screamed over the sea. The morning promise of a fine day had gone. The sky became overcast, and the air was thick with a drizzle of rain.
Battle off the Falkland Islands, December 8, 1914.
We will first follow the fortunes of the British battle cruisers now engaged in a fierce duel with the Gneisenau and the Scharnhorst. About two o'clock it was discovered that the British vessels were diverging from the enemy, who, seeing this, turned to starboard, in the hope of getting away. At once the British ships turned starboard too, and this brought them again within effective range. The smoke was now impeding the firing, so Admiral Sturdee worked up to top speed, and got on the other side of the enemy, from which position the Scharnhorst was pounded mercilessly. You can picture the scene for yourselves: the roar of the guns, the scream of the shells, the loud crashes as shots went home, the wash of the waves, the whistle of the rising breeze, the grinding of the hydraulic machinery as the turrets swung round, the throb of the engines—all uniting in a chorus of deafening and incessant noise.
The Scharnhorst was soon in the throes of her last agony. Clouds of smoke rose from her, and spurts of bright flame. Shot after shot struck her, and though she returned the fire, the British vessels were too far away for her shells to do much damage. Her 8.2-inch guns could not cope with the 12-inch monsters of the battle cruisers. At three o'clock Admiral Sturdee, seeing that the end of the Scharnhorst was near, sent out this signal to his ships: "God save the King." By 3.30 the masts and funnels of the enemy had been shot away, and at five minutes past four she listed to port and turned bottom upwards. In a cloud of steam and smoke she disappeared amidst the swirling waters, her propellers still going and her flag still flying. Seven hundred and sixty brave men and their gallant admiral had gone to their doom.
Fire was now concentrated on the Gneisenau, and soon she was done for. At half-past five, when her upper works were a total wreck, when one of her turrets had been blown overboard and flames were raging, she ceased firing. Several times her flag had been shot away, but every time it had been replaced. The three British vessels now closed in on her; her engines were smashed to fragments, but with one gun she still fought on. Soon after six o'clock she began to settle down, and Admiral Sturdee signalled to his consorts, "Cease fire." Six hundred of her crew had been killed, and the survivors were now lined up on deck waiting for the end. Then she suddenly heeled over, her stern rose high in the air, and a few moments later she too disappeared. The sea was dotted with men battling for life amidst the waves.
An officer on board the Invincible thus describes the errand of mercy on which the British were soon engaged:—
"Now came the awful part. The Inflexible, Carnarvon, and ourselves hurried up to where she had disappeared, shown by slightly discoloured water, and on coming up close saw a good amount of wreckage with men clinging to it. Never shall I forget it: they were mostly calling out, and it sounded like a wail to us. We all lowered boats as quickly as possible, and picked up as many as possible; but heaps must have sunk, as the water was 40 degrees and they were all numb. It was awful being on the ship, because when all the boats were away they kept floating past, some swimming, some unconscious, just beneath the water. We lowered people down on bow-lines, and hauled them up the ship's side; some of them were quite dead when they came in. Altogether this ship saved about 115, of which fourteen were dead."
Meanwhile what had happened to the Dresden, Nürnberg, and Leipzig, which were being chased by the Glasgow, Kent, and Cornwall? The battle between these light cruisers was more equal than the fight which I have just described. All day the struggle continued. The Kent, which was chasing the Nürnberg, got far out of sight of land, and lost touch with her consorts. It was feared that she had been lost, especially as no reply was received to the numberless calls sent out to her. Late in the afternoon of the next day she returned safely to Stanley with her wireless shot away, and showing every mark of fierce combat. Her silk ensign and Jack, presented by the ladies of the county of Kent, had been torn to ribbons.
The Nürnberg could steam a knot faster than the Kent, but the British stokers and engineers worked like heroes. They piled her furnaces high with fuel, and strained her engines to the utmost. When the engineers reported that coal was running short, the captain replied, "Very well, then; have a go at the boats." Accordingly the boats were broken up, the wood was smeared with oil and passed into the furnaces. Shortly afterwards the wooden ladders, doors, and almost everything that would burn followed the boats. She managed to work up to 25 knots—a knot and a half more than her registered speed—and slowly but surely came within range of the enemy.
