The "Ayesha," being the adventures of the landing squad of the "Emden"

by Hellmuth von Mücke

The Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb is a very narrow water-way. I hugged the African shore as closely as possible, to take advantage of the darker horizon there, and also because the shore afforded a dark background for the ship. But in spite of all this exercise of caution, we got so near to the revolving light at Perim that its intermittent ray fell upon us like a search-light, illuminating us for seconds at a time. Moreover, we could see two English warships lying just outside of Perim, and they were signaling to each other in Morse code. During that night’s most anxious half hour we muttered many a bitter imprecation upon our engine that at best could make no more than seven and a half miles. But fortune favored us; the Englishmen did not discover us. Perhaps none of the small patrol boats upon which I had reckoned were abroad, for there was a stiff breeze blowing, and the sea was running high. At the end of two trying hours we had got to where we could consider ourselves as safely “through.”

In the broader expanse of the Red Sea I kept well without the regular steamship course, and on the eighth of January, just after dark, we lay with the Choising close to Hodeida. The only book that we had from which to inform ourselves with regard to Arabian ways and customs was a “round the world” guide book that would have answered the purpose of directing a wedding journey very well. From it we learned that Hodeida is a large commercial city, and that the Hejaz railroad to Hodeida was in course of construction. As the book was some years old, and as one of my officers remembered that years ago he had met a French engineer who told him that he had been engaged in the construction of a railroad to Hodeida, we took it for granted that the railroad was completed by this time. Even should we be wrong in our supposition, we would still, in all likelihood, be able to get some news of the war, and, in case we should have to continue our journey on the Choising, we would at least be able to secure charts of the Red Sea.

As we approached Hodeida, or more accurately speaking, as we approached the locality where we expected to find Hodeida—because of our constant lack of marine charts we were never certain of just where we were—we suddenly beheld a long line of electric lights along the shore. Great was our joy at this first sign of a return to civilization. That Hodeida would be provided with electric lights had not entered into our most hopeful expectations.

“It appears to be a very respectable kind of place after all,” was the opinion expressed on the bridge. “There even are electric lights. Then surely the railroad will be running. I can see ourselves walking into the central railroad station of Hodeida to-morrow morning, and boarding the special express. In a fortnight we shall be on the North Sea again.”

We supposed the row of lights we saw to be on the Hodeida dock, for our “round the world” guide book had told us that Hodeida is a seaport. As we came closer to this dock, my joy gave way to apprehension, for, as I looked, the lights of the dock seemed suddenly and strangely to move closer together, an eccentricity which is not usual with lights on a dock. As we were quite sober, we decided that it must be the dock that was at fault. I therefore gave orders to stop the Choising, so that soundings might be taken, from which to learn how far we were from the shore. A depth of forty meters was reported. Now we were evidently only a few thousand meters off from the supposed dock, while, according to the soundings, there must be a distance of several nautical miles between us and the shore. As we realized this, the dock lost much of its attractiveness in our eyes. It must be something else. I gave orders: “Course, to the south!” and ran off a few nautical miles.

I then ordered the four long boats that had been kept in readiness ever since our approach to Perim, to be lowered, and my men got into them. The Captain of the Choising received written orders to take his ship farther out to sea, to spend the next two days in the vicinity of a given point outside of the usual steamship course, and on each of the succeeding nights to return to the place where my men and I had left the ship, and await us there. If we did not return, he was to proceed to Massowa. My reason for wishing the Choising to return during the next two nights, was our total lack of any definite knowledge as to who was in control in South Arabia. Our latest information in regard to the war was over three months old, and although it had told of battles between the Turks and the English, the outcome of these battles was unknown to us. It was therefore quite possible that Hodeida was now in the hands of the English. In that event, it was my intention to return to the Choising on one of the following nights, and to continue our journey aboard her. The days, I meant to spend somewhere in the desert, in hiding.

At the same time, I arranged for signals by rockets to be given the Choising in case I should learn of the proximity of hostile ships that might prove dangerous to her. There was one special signal that meant: “Enemy’s ships near. Proceed at once to Massowa.” I wanted to avoid exposing the ship unnecessarily to the danger of capture while returning for us.

Soon the Choising had vanished in the darkness of the night, and my little flotilla of long boats was being vigorously rowed toward the shore. The ship’s boats, like all boats that have been out of the water for some time, leaked badly, although days before we left the Choising they had been wet both inside and out, had been freshly painted, and kept half filled with water. Our chief effort for the time being was therefore directed toward bailing out the boats. As soon as the day dawned, all sails were set in the boats of our flotilla, and a goodly regatta in the direction of the shore developed.