During the action he had to go round the ship with the fire-master, putting out any fires that were discovered. Whilst going his rounds during the engagement he found a stoker near one of the drinking tanks on the mess deck, who said he had come up to get a drink of water. The Hun Commander told him that he had no business to leave his post, and, drawing his revolver, shot him dead where he stood.

A curious yarn is connected with Admiral Stoddart, who was in the Carnarvon. He had a distant cousin in the German Navy whom he had never met and about whose career he had frequently been asked in years gone by. This cousin of his was one of those saved by the Carnarvon, and when he got aboard he said, "I believe I have a cousin in one of the British ships. His name is Stoddart." To find he was the Admiral on board that very ship must have indeed given him what the sailor terms "a fair knock out." He stated that practically every man on the upper deck of the Gneisenau was either killed or wounded, and that it was a feat of the greatest difficulty to climb across the deck, so great was the havoc wrought in all directions.

Another officer, who was stationed in one of the 8.2-inch turrets, had a remarkable experience. The turret was hit by a 12-inch shell, and he emerged the sole survivor. He then went on to a casemate, which was also knocked out and most of the crew killed. Trying a third gun, he was perhaps even more fortunate, as it was also hit by a 12-inch shell, and the same thing happened, but shortly after the ship sank and he was saved! This hero was a fat, young lieutenant, who apparently drowned his sorrows the evening before he quitted the Carnarvon. Before retiring to bed he stood up in the mess, drink in hand, bowed blandly to everyone and said, with a broad smile on his fat face, "Gentlemen, I thank you very much—you have been very kind to me, and I wish you all in Hell!"

The wisdom of Admiral Sturdee's orders to the Carnarvon to keep out of range of the Germans was brought home by an officer survivor of the Gneisenau, who said that they knew they were done and had orders "to concentrate on the little ship and sink her if she came within range!"

Upwards of 600 men had been killed or wounded when the Gneisenau's ammunition was finally expended. The German captain "fell-in" the remainder and told them to provide themselves with hammocks or any woodwork they could find, in order to support themselves in the water.

A certain number of the German sailors that were rescued from the icy ocean succumbed to exposure and shock, though the proportion was very small. They were given a naval funeral with full military honours and were buried at sea the day after the battle. When the funeral service was about to take place on the quarter-deck of one of our warships, the German prisoners were told to come aft to attend it. On rounding the superstructure, however, the leading men suddenly halted dead, brought up aghast with fright at the sight of the guard of armed marines falling in across the deck, who were about to pay the last tributes of military honours to the dead. When ordered on, these terrified Huns point blank refused to move, being convinced that the Marine Guard was there in order to shoot them!

[CHAPTER XII]
THE END OF THE "LEIPZIG"

"War raged in heaven that day ...