The carnage and destruction wrought in the Gneisenau by our three ships were terrible, and it was astonishing what a deal of hammering she was still able to bear. That her casualties at this time were very heavy was beyond doubt, as shell were to be seen tearing up her decks as they burst, while the upper works became a veritable shambles. It was not till 5.15 that the doomed ship, being badly hit between the third and fourth funnels, showed real signs of being in extremis. She was still firing, however, and even scored an effective hit—the last one she was to get—about this period.
At 5.30 she was obviously dead beat and turned towards our squadron with a heavy list to starboard, afire fore and aft, and steam issuing in dense clouds from all directions. Admiral Sturdee now ordered "Cease fire," but before the signal could be hoisted Gneisenau opened fire again, and continued to keep it up with her one remaining undamaged gun. This was returned until it was silenced, when our ships closed in on her. The ensign flying at her foremast head was hauled down at 5.40, but the one at her peak was left flying. Five minutes later she again fired, but only one solitary round, after which she maintained silence. The signal was made to cease firing immediately afterwards, when it was evident that her gallant struggle was at an end.
She now heeled over quite slowly, giving her men plenty of time to get up on deck. At 6 P.M. our ships were perhaps 4,000 yards off, and the Germans could be seen gathering together on her "forecastle quarter deck." Remaining on her beam ends for a few seconds, during which the men were seen clambering about on her side, she quite gently subsided and disappeared without any explosion, although a film of steamy haze hovered over the spot where she sank. The bow remained poised for a second or two, after which she foundered at 6.2 in latitude 52° 40′ S., longitude 56° 20′ W., having withstood the combined fire of our ships for an hour and forty-five minutes.
The sea was no longer quite calm, and a misty, drizzling rain was falling. Closing in hastily, every effort was made to save life, and boats were got out and lowered. This is no easy job after an action, as the boats are turned inboard, resting on their crutches, and are kept partially filled with water in case a shell might strike them and cause a fire. This water must first be drained out, then the weight of the boat is hoisted on to the slips to enable it to be swung outboard, which is not easy if the ship has been hit near the water-line, causing a list. Finally, several of the boats are certain to be riddled with shell splinters.
A midshipman, describing the scene that followed, writes, "We cast overboard every rope's end we can and try our hands at casting to some poor wretch feebly struggling within a few yards of the ship's side. Missed him! Another shot. He's further off now! Ah! the rope isn't long enough. No good; try someone else. He's sunk now!"
The men, however, had not yet heard of the rough weather during the Coronel action, and still thought that the Germans might have saved our poor fellows there. Lines were thrown over with shouts of, "Here, Sausage, put this round your belly," and the like. Taking into consideration that it was estimated some 600 men had been killed or wounded, and that the temperature of the water was 40°, it was fortunate that as many as 170 officers and men were rescued. The gallant Admiral Count von Spee, whose conduct bears out the best traditions of naval history, and his two sons, all lost their lives in the course of the day.
A curious feature of this action was the terrific damage done by 12-inch lyddite shell. One of the Gneisenau's turrets was severed from its trunk and blown bodily overboard. Nearly every projectile that hit caused a fire, which was often promptly extinguished by the splash of the next one falling short. Indeed, it was stated by the prisoners that the guns' crews in the German ships were frequently working their guns up to their knees in water, and towards the latter part of the engagements were unable to fire on account of the volume of water thrown up by short shots.
The Invincible had been hit about twenty-two times, but the fighting efficiency of the ship was not affected. Eighteen of these were direct hits, two being below the water-line on the port side, one of which flooded a bunker and gave her a list to port. There were no casualties, however, amongst her complement of 950. The Inflexible was only hit directly twice; she had one man killed and three slightly wounded. Her main derrick was cut in two, so that she was unable to use her steam boats. The few casualties speak more eloquently than any words of the tactics adopted by Admiral Sturdee in putting to the greatest possible use the heavier armament at his disposal.
The Invincible had some interesting damage. One 8.2-inch shell burst and completely wrecked her wardroom, making a gigantic hole in her side. Two others hit the stalk of her after conning tower and burst, but did no damage to the inmates, who only complained of the fumes being sweet and sickly, leaving an unpleasant taste which, however, soon wore off. Another interesting case was the extraordinary damage done by a spent projectile falling at an angle of fifty degrees. Passing close under her forebridge, it cut the muzzle of one of her 4-inch guns clean off, after which it passed through the steel deck, through a ventilating trunk, through the deck below, and finished up in the Admiral's storeroom—side by side with the cheese, which put the finishing touch to its career. Another shell caused a nasty hole on the water-line, seven feet by three, which was found to be beyond the capabilities of the ship's staff to repair temporarily. The bunker had to be left flooded, all the surrounding bulkheads being carefully shored up and strengthened until she returned to England. In "A Naval Digression"[8] "G. F." says: "On a part of the main deck one might have imagined for a second that a philanthropist had been at work, for there, strewn about, were a thousand odd golden sovereigns; a shell had come through the upper deck, and, visiting the Fleet-Paymaster's cabin, had 'upset' the money chest. It had then gone through the bulkhead into the chaplain's cabin next door, and finally passed out through the ship's side, taking with it a large part of the reverend gentleman's wardrobe, and reducing to rags and tatters most of what it had the decency to leave behind."
The Commander of the Gneisenau was picked up by the Inflexible, and gave some interesting details. Describing the time when the Canopus fired at the Gneisenau and Nürnberg on their first approach to Port Stanley, he told us that he said to his Captain, "Captain, we must either fight or go faster," adding that in his opinion the day would have ended very differently had they come up boldly off the mouth of the harbour and bombarded our ships at anchor before they were able to get out. There can be no doubt that the issue would have been the same, but the Germans might have been able to inflict some serious damage, especially to those ships lying nearest the mouth of the harbour, who would have masked the battle-cruisers' fire. However, his Captain elected to run, so they went "faster."