“At 7:40 (so I am told, as, though I tried I lost all count of time) a shell hit the fore 6-inch of the Mersey and a column of flame shot up. Four were killed and four wounded. Part of the shield was blown away. Only one man remained standing, and after swaying about he fell dead. One had his head completely blown off. Another was lying with his arm torn out at the shoulder, and his body covered with yellow flames from a lyddite charge which caught. The R. N. R. Lieutenant in charge was knocked senseless and covered with blood, but had only a scratch on the wrist to show for it. The gun-layer had an extraordinary escape, and only lost three fingers. Two men escaped as they had just gone forward to weigh the anchor. A burning charge fell into the shell room below, but was fortunately got out. Another shell burst in the motor-boat alongside the Mersey and sank it. One burst in the water about a foot from the side, and we thought she was holed. The Mersey captain then wisely moved and went down river, taking up a position of 1,000 yards down, by the right bank (looking at the Koenigsberg). She started in again with her after gun, the other being disabled. For an hour and twenty minutes we went on, and the Koenigsberg’s salvoes came steadily and regularly back, as close as ever. It seemed as if it could not go on much longer. We registered four hits, and the salvoes were reduced from four to three, and later to two, and then to one gun. Whether we had reduced them to silence or whether the Koenigsberg’s crew left them and saved ammunition it is impossible to say.

“The aeroplane spotting had been fair, but now someone else started in and made the signals unintelligible. Then we got spotting corrections from two sources—both differing widely. Finally, the aeroplane made “W. O.” (going home). We weighed and took up station again by the Mersey. She moved to get out of our way, and when another aeroplane came we started it again. The replies from the Koenigsberg were not so frequent, and nothing like so accurate. It was as if they could not spot the fall of shot. The aeroplane soon disappeared, and as we could see the mast of the Koenigsberg (I could only see one personally) and a column of smoke which varied in thickness from time to time, we tried to spot for ourselves. It was useless as, though we saw the burst (or thought we did) in line with the masts, we did not know whether they were over or short. Finally, we moved up the river nearer, still keeping on the right side, and set to work again.

“There were two cruisers—Weymouth and Pyramus, I think—at the mouth. The Weymouth did a good deal of firing at Pemba Hill and a native village close to us, where there might be spotters.

“When we reached W/T corrections now they were of no use. Most were ‘did not observe fall of shot,’ or 600 short. We went up 1,000, but still received the same signal—whether from the aeroplane or the Koenigsberg, I don’t know. It was most confusing. We crept up the scale to maximum elevation. Finally, we moved up the river again, but put our nose on the mud. We were soon off, and moved over to the other side and continued firing, spotting as well as we could (but getting nothing definite) till four o’clock, when we packed up and prepared to come out. We swept the banks again on both sides, but only at the entrance was there opposition. We made such a noise ourselves that we drowned the report of any shots fired at us. Two field-guns made good practice at us from the right bank (looking at the Koenigsberg). One came very close indeed to the top—so much so that we all turned to look at each other, thinking it must have touched somewhere. One burst about five yards over us. Another burst fifteen yards from the Mersey, and a second hit her sounding boom. We could see the white smoke of the discharge and fired lyddite, but the object was invisible.

“It was getting dusk as we got outside at full speed. The secure was sounded at about 4:45. We had been at general quarters for thirteen hours, and eleven of them had been under fire. Outside the other ships were waiting for us near Komo Island, and we went straight alongside the Trent. Each ship cheered us as we passed. The Mersey put her wounded on the Trent, and then pushed off to bury the dead.

“Tuesday, July 6, was the day of the first attempt, and one of the worst I ever had or am likely to have. We were at our stations from 3:45 A.M. till 4:45 P.M., and eleven hours of that were under fire. The engine-room people were not relieved the whole time, and they were down there the whole time in a temperature of 132°-135°! It was hot up in the top—but child’s play to the engine room.”

SUCCESS

On July 11 the second attack was made, but made in a very different manner from the first. Once more let us allow the same writer to complete the story:

“We went to General Quarters at 10:40 A.M. and were inside the entrance by 11:40. How well we seemed to know the place! I knew exactly where the beastly field guns at the mouth would open fire and exactly when they would cease—as we pushed in, and so if their shots went over us they would land on the opposite bank among their own troops. Very soon came the soft whistle of the shell, then again and again—but we were nearing the entrance and they turned on the Mersey. They hit her twice, wounding two men and knocking down the after 6-inch gun crew—none was hurt, however. I spotted a boat straight ahead making across the river for dear life—they may only have been natives, but we fired the 6-inch at them till they leapt ashore and disappeared.

“Up the river we went. I knew each creek, and almost each tree, and as before we blazed into them just before we passed.