Let me tell you of a pleasing little incident that happened when the Sydney, with prisoners on board, returned to the transports which she and the Melbourne were convoying. Captain Glossop had given orders that there was to be no cheering, as he had German wounded on board, and some of them might be dying. The Sydney steamed past forty transports, whose decks and rigging were crowded with patriotic men; but not a cheer was raised, though all were deeply stirred by the good news. Two German officers asked Captain Glossop the reason of the silence. When he explained, they were much affected. One of them shook him by the hand and said, "You have been kind, but this crowns all. We cannot speak to thank you for it."
The news was received with great delight by our soldiers in Artois and West Flanders. At one place where the opposing trenches were close together the men cheered, and passed on the information with appropriate comments to the enemy, who replied with a vindictive volley. At Lloyd's[143] the old Lutine bell[144] was rung, and when, amidst tense silence, the crier announced that the Emden's career of destruction had ended, underwriters,[145] brokers, and clerks burst forth into excited cheering, which was repeated again and again. During the past two months the insurance companies had been heavily hit; freight for the East had been difficult to obtain, Indian tea had gone up twopence per pound, the jute trade had been paralysed, and tin and rubber had largely increased in price. All this was now over, and shipping in Eastern waters resumed its normal course.
Almost equally good news arrived the same day. The Königsberg, after her attack on the Pegasus in Zanzibar harbour, had gone into hiding somewhere along the German East African coast. A diligent search was made for her by H.M.S. Chatham, and on 30th October she was discovered in shoal water about six miles up a river opposite Mafia island. The Chatham, owing to her greater draught, could not ascend the river; but she sank colliers in the only navigable channel, so that the German cruiser could not come out. She lay amidst dense palm groves, and was aground, except at high tide. Part of her crew had been landed and entrenched on the banks of the river. Both the entrenchments and the Königsberg were shelled, but owing to the thick foliage shrouding the ship it was not possible to estimate what damage had been done.
From the end of October 1914 until the beginning of July 1915 the Königsberg lay in this position. She was most difficult to attack, as only shallow-draught ships could get sufficiently close to engage her. In May 1915 the Admiralty decided to send to German East Africa two of the monitors—the Severn and the Mersey—which had done so much to foil the coast dash towards Calais. Aircraft accompanied the vessels, and discovered the exact whereabouts of the Königsberg. On 4th July the monitors entered the river and opened fire. The Königsberg replied, and fired salvos of five guns with great accuracy, twice hitting the Mersey, and causing some casualties.
The aeroplanes found great difficulty in "spotting" the effects of the monitors' fire, because of the dense jungle. For six hours the monitors continued firing, and the Königsberg was hit five times, though her masts were still standing. Then a salvo struck her, and she burst into flames. For a time she continued to fire with one gun, but during the last part of the engagement she made no reply, either because her ammunition had run out or because her guns were disabled. On 11th July another attack was made, and the Königsberg was battered into shapeless ruin.
During November 19 a British squadron approached the harbour of Dar-es-Salaam,[146] in which three German vessels had taken refuge. The entrance had been blocked by a floating dock, and only vessels of light draught could pass the obstruction. On November 28 a British flotilla supported by a cruiser entered the harbour, and after a parley the governor of the town hoisted the white flag. Commander Henry Peel Ritchie, R.N., who was in charge of the operations, now boarded the German ships, but soon discovered that the surrender of the town was a trick to destroy him and his men. A heavy fire was opened on the boats from trenches on shore, and Commander Peel Ritchie had the greatest difficulty in getting them safely out of harbour. He himself was one of the first to be hit, but he continued at his post until his eighth wound, received twenty-five minutes later, rendered him unconscious. The cockswain of his pinnace, though hit twice, gallantly stuck to the wheel until the boat was out of gunfire. For his splendid courage, and for the inspiring example which he set to his men, Commander Ritchie was awarded the Victoria Cross. The cockswain, Leading Seaman Thomas Arthur Gallagher, received the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal.