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.