Count Luckner, the Sea Devil

by Lowell Thomas; Graf von Felix Luckner

All manner of ingenious devices were invented in fitting out the Moewe for her career as a raider. She was altered so that she could disguise herself and change disguises while steaming at full speed just like a quick-change actor. One day she would be a three or two funnelled steamer, the next she would look like a slow tramp with one funnel. The line of her deck could be changed in a few minutes also. She also had fake superstructures that could be raised or lowered at will. She could even be made longer or shorter in a few moments by means of a fake section that slipped out from her stern. One day she would be a tramp, the next, with fake bulls'-eyes, a liner. These startling metamorphoses were a great success and enabled her to dodge many an Allied cruiser.

Of course, the British soon got on to the Moewe's quick-change habits, and were not to be fooled by them. On one of her adventures, the Moewe was trapped off the eastern coast of South America. The British cruisers Glasgow and Amethyst were warned by wireless that the Moewe was steering south from Fernando Noronha to take coal. So they rushed out from Rio de Janeiro to trap her. Presently, the Glasgow spotted the Moewe on the horizon. The German ship had on one of her innumerable disguises, and the captain of the Glasgow could not recognize her. He was wary, however, and on to the Moewe's tricks, so he wirelessed her to stand by to be searched. The Moewe turned and ran south. The Glasgow could make twenty-five knots and easily outrace her. The Moewe was well armed with guns and torpedoes and would fight, but she would be no match for an armoured ship. The men aboard the Moewe seemed as good as at the bottom of the sea. The Glasgow knew that the fleeing ship must be the long-sought-for raider, and prepared to sink her.

The two ships steamed with straining boilers, and the Glasgow was fast creeping up on the Moewe. When almost within range, the hunted raider ran into one of those sudden rain squalls that sweep over the ocean. Like the Biblical cloud, it hid her from the pursuing cruiser. Of course, the Glasgow followed her into the squall. But as the Moewe ran through the swirling storm, she passed another steamer, this one steaming north. The cruiser saw emerging from the squall this new ship. She had three masts. The Moewe had had but two. The captain of the Glasgow thought only of the Moewe's ability to disguise herself. He presumed that the Moewe had taken advantage of the squall to run up a third mast and then double back on her trail in the hope that the Englishman would not recognize her and that she might pass safely and even have an opportunity to torpedo the Glasgow. The cruiser instantly opened fire, and blew the poor, inoffensive cargo steamer out of the water. It was only when they examined the wreckage that they discovered that they had made a mistake and sunk a British freighter! Meanwhile, the Moewe had escaped once more.

Nor was that the only ship the British sank by mistake. They shelled two harmless sailing vessels to pieces, mistaking them for our Seeadler. It all came about because of one of those familiar war rumours, a rumour to the effect that we were already somewhere off the Australian coast. An Australian cruiser encountered a Scandinavian three-master, and they seemed to think she was behaving queerly. Word had been passed around that the Seeadler carried torpedoes. So the cruiser thought she had better not run any chance of being blown up. She opened fire at long range. Only ten men aboard the Scandinavian ship were saved. Later on, the armoured cruiser Kent[[1]] sank another sailing vessel under similar circumstances in the Pacific.

[[1]] See Note B, [Appendix].

Sailors since Magellan, by Joe, have talked about the storms around Cape Horn. Sea stories usually have something about the tough times rounding the Cape. I had seen those storms myself when I had sailed in the forecastle, and as a naval officer I had many a time told tales to my brother officers of gales and tempests I had witnessed in an old windjammer rounding Horn. But our trip this voyage was to be the most unusual of all. If the storms held us back, the cruisers would be almost certain to catch us. We had sailed south in fine time, and if we made a quick passage round that boisterous tip of South America, we might slip into the wide Pacific and continue our raids.

Well, we ran into the dirtiest weather off the Horn, gales and hurricanes. Why, there were days when even with our motor running we could make no headway at all. It took us three weeks to beat our way through the gales and around the point. By that time, the cruisers lay there in wait for us, not just one or two, but a whole half dozen of them.

Ordinarily, a sailing ship tries to hug Cape Horn as closely as it can, keeping quite near land. If you veer too far to the south, you run into icebergs. Navigating among icebergs with the wind whistling through your rigging is enough to give any skipper the chills. So the storms had held us up, and now our best chance probably would be to steer as wide a course to the south as possible, whether safe or not. The mountains of ice were there, and a hurricane was blowing. But we considered the ice the lesser of two evils. The British watch to the far south was bound to be less vigilant than up nearer the Cape. We must try to sail around them. So, ho for the Antarctic!

On our way through the blockade, we had steered into the Arctic. Now here we were heading into the Antarctic.

To make it pleasant, by Joe, the weather, which had been quite decent to us on the way south, changed in order to give us a regular Cape Horn welcome. It turned into a veritable hurricane. Nevertheless, we were determined to carry as much sail as possible. Risky, but we had to take chances in the hope of getting through. As the tempest increased, not even the Seeadler dared carry more than a rag or two of lower sail. With this we tried to hold our way. Through the mist we saw a great wall. It came moving toward us. A vast wall of white, an iceberg. The wind was driving this white spectre through the water, and we had to veer off in order to avoid collision.