The Germans soon found the range, their fire proving very accurate, which was to be expected in view of the reputation of the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau for good shooting—the former had won the gold medal for the best average. These armoured cruisers concentrated their fire entirely on our two leading ships, doing considerable execution. In addition, they had a great stroke of luck, for in the first ten minutes of the engagement a shell struck the fore turret of the Good Hope, putting that 9.2-inch out of action. The Monmouth was apparently hit several times in rapid succession, for she was forced to haul out of the line to the westward, and her forecastle was seen to be burning furiously, but she continued to return the enemy's fire valiantly. This manœuvre caused her to drop astern, and compelled the Glasgow, who now followed on after the Good Hope, to ease speed to avoid getting into the zone of fire intended for the Monmouth.
It was now growing dark, but this did not deter both squadrons from continuing to blaze away as hard as they could; in fact, the fight was at its height; the German projectiles were falling all round and about our ships, causing several fires which lit them up with a ghostly hue. The heavy artillery of the enemy was doing great damage, and it was evident that both the Good Hope and Monmouth were in a bad way; the former sheered over unsteadily towards the Germans, returning their fire spasmodically, whilst the latter had a slight list and from her erratic movements gave the impression that her steering arrangements had been damaged. The results of our shooting could not be distinguished with accuracy, though von Spee mentions that the Scharnhorst found a 6-inch shell in one of her storerooms, which had penetrated the side and caused a deal of havoc below but did not burst, and also that one funnel was hit. The Gneisenau had two men wounded, and sustained slight damage.
At 7.50 P.M. a sight of the most appalling splendour arrested everyone, as if spellbound, in his tussle with death. An enormous sheet of flame suddenly burst from the Good Hope, lighting up the whole heavens for miles around. This was accompanied by the noise of a terrific explosion, which hurled up wreckage and sparks at least a couple of hundred feet in the air from her after funnels. A lucky shot had penetrated one of her magazines. "It reminded me of Vesuvius in eruption," said a seaman in describing this spectacle. It was now pitch dark, making it impossible for the opposing vessels to distinguish one another. The Good Hope was never heard to fire her guns again, and could not have long survived such a terrible explosion, though no one saw her founder.
The moon had risen about 6.30 P.M. and was now well up, but it was too overcast to see much. According to von Spee the squadrons had closed in to about 5,400 yards, which caused him to sheer off, fearing torpedo attack. It seems certain that although firing was continued it could not have been effective, for three minutes after the Good Hope blew up the Germans ceased fire altogether. Shortly afterwards von Spee ordered the Leipzig, Dresden, and Nürnberg—the last-named having joined the squadron during the action—to make a torpedo attack.
The Monmouth ceased firing just before the explosion on board the Good Hope, and was then steering roughly N.W. It was clear she was on her last legs, as her list had increased and she was down by the bows. She now suddenly altered course to the N.E. in the direction of the oncoming enemy. Captain Luce was senior naval officer, being senior to Captain Brandt, of the Monmouth. He saw the Germans approaching and signalled the Monmouth at 8.30, "Enemy following us," but received no reply. Clearly there was no alternative left him but to save his ship, if he was not to make a needless sacrifice of his men, as it was obvious that he could be of no further assistance to his doomed consort. In addition, it was essential that the Canopus should be warned in time to avert a further calamity, a task not so simple as it sounds, for the Germans were jamming our wireless messages. It is said that when last seen the gallant Monmouth turned and made straight for the enemy in a heroic attempt to ram one of their ships. Von Spee reports that the Nürnberg sank the Monmouth at 9.28 P.M. by bombardment at point-blank range; this accounts for the seventy-five flashes of gunfire as well as the play of the beams of a search-light, which were observed by the Glasgow after leaving the scene of action. It must have been brutal work.
Thus perished Admiral Cradock together with 1,600 gallant officers and men. In fairness to the Germans it should be stated that our own officers considered it too rough for boats to be lowered with any safety.
The Glasgow had been subjected to the combined fire of the Leipzig and Dresden, whose gunnery was fortunately not very effective owing to the long range maintained between the two squadrons before the light failed. That she had withstood this combined onslaught for fifty-two minutes (von Spee's report) was remarkable, but that she had suffered no material damage was little short of a miracle. Her casualties amounted to four men slightly wounded. She was hit five times, on or near the water line, but not in vital places. The protection afforded by the coal in her bunkers saved her on three occasions, as otherwise in the nasty sea running at the time she would have found herself in a very precarious position. Of the remaining two hits, one penetrated the deck but did not explode, while the other wrecked the captain's pantry and cabin. There was one large hole, which luckily did not prevent her eluding her pursuers at high speed by steering out to the W.N.W., and thence in a wide circle to the southward to the Magellan Straits, finally arriving at Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands.
At the outset of the engagement the Good Hope made a signal down the line to the Otranto, the only words received being, "Leaving Otranto." The latter, therefore, hauled out to endeavour to get this signal direct from the flagship, but as the Good Hope had been badly hit, nothing further was received. As projectiles were falling all round her, and it was realised that the Otranto, being a large ship, would be used by the enemy as a rangefinder to enable him to calculate the distance of the Glasgow, she hauled out still farther to upset the accuracy of his gun-fire. The enemy proceeded to carry this method of ranging into effect; the first salvo passed over the Otranto's bridge, the second missed the bows by 50 yards, the third fell 150 yards astern, while others which followed fell, some over, some short. By this time she had worked out of the line about 1,200 yards, so turned to the same course, as far as could be judged, as the remainder of the squadron. She was now out of range. The Otranto ran the gauntlet of the enemy's most successfully, since she emerged from this storm of shell quite unscathed, but it must have been touch and go. Moreover—and hardest of all—she had to submit to this treatment without being in a position to retaliate. After the flagship blew up, nothing was seen of the Monmouth; subsequently the Glasgow was reported crossing her stern. Seeing that she could be of no assistance, the Otranto dodged her opponents by straining full speed to the westward for 200 miles, and thence to the southward. Rounding Cape Horn, she passed between the Falklands and the mainland and arrived at Montevideo. Both she and the Glasgow must have accounted themselves most fortunate in escaping safely from this unequal contest.
The Canopus, which had been steaming northward with two colliers, intercepted a wireless message from the Glasgow to the Good Hope reporting the enemy in sight. She immediately increased to her full speed, dispatching the colliers to Juan Fernandez, and proceeded on her course northward in the hope that she would arrive in time to engage the enemy. About 9 P.M. she received a signal from the Glasgow that it was feared the Good Hope and Monmouth had been sunk, and that the squadron was scattered. Seeing the hopelessness of continuing on her course, the Canopus turned round, picked up her colliers, and made for the Magellan Straits via Smyth's Channel, the successful navigation of which reflects great credit, since she was probably the first battleship ever to make use of it. By this means she succeeded in reaching Port Stanley without molestation, although the German ships were constantly in close proximity.