For the next three days Denbigh and O'Hara were "off colour". The mystery of Stirling's disappearance affected them deeply; but on the fourth day they cheered up considerably, for the Pelikan had intercepted a wireless message from a British cruiser. The message was in code, but one word occurred that shed a different light upon the mystery. The word was "Stirling". Von Riesser lost no time in informing the two British officers, and although the latter were unable to decipher the message it was evident that Stirling had been picked up by one of our patrols.
Shortly after daybreak on the fifth day of Stirling's absence, the Pelikan overhauled a large collier, outward bound from Penarth to Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands, with a valuable cargo of steam coal.
It was evident that the skipper of the collier had received no warning that a German raider was at large, for he allowed the Pelikan to get within three cables' length without exciting any suspicion.
When the latter peremptorily ordered the collier to heave-to and surrender, however, the stalwart old merchant captain showed the stuff he was made of, for without complying, he suddenly ported helm and bore down upon the liner, which had now hoisted German colours.
It was a forlorn hope, for the Pelikan could steam twice as fast as the collier and was much quicker on her helm.
"By Jove! that fellow has some pluck," exclaimed O'Hara admiringly, for, anticipating no resistance on the part of the would-be prize, Kapitan von Riesser had not ordered the British officers below. "But he's asking for trouble."
"Yes, poor chap, he's put himself out of court," agreed Denbigh.
Manoeuvring so that the Pelikan's guns could be brought to bear upon the collier without danger of carrying away her masts, von Riesser gave the order to fire. Two shells did the mischief. Both burst amidships, sweeping away the bridge and chart-house, and with them the rash and gallant skipper and three of the crew.
Further resistance being out of the question the collier struck her flag. Splendidly handled the Pelikan ranged up alongside, and without delay the work of transferring the cargo commenced. Although the sturdy Britons who formed the collier's crew refused to lift as much as a little finger to help there were plenty of hands available from the Pelikan. The steam winches were manned, skips and whips brought into play, and sacks and sacks of badly wanted fuel were toppled down the liner's chutes.
"Stand by there, you men!" shouted Kapitan von Riesser, observing that the crew of the collier were provisioning and swinging out their boats. "I haven't said I was going to sink your ship. Come and bear a hand and we'll let you go."