Have just learnt from Chilean Admiral that German Admiral states that on Sunday at sunset, in thick and wicked weather, his ships met Good Hope, Glasgow, Monmouth, and Otranto. Action was joined, and Monmouth turned over and sank after about an hour’s fighting.
Good Hope, Glasgow and Otranto drew off into darkness.
Good Hope was on fire, an explosion was heard, and she is believed to have sunk.
Gneisenau, Scharnhorst and Nürnberg were among the German ships engaged.
The story of what had happened, so far as it ever can be known, is now familiar; it is fully set out in the official history, and need only be summarised here. Arrived on the Chilean coast, having refuelled at a lonely island, and hearing that the British light cruiser Glasgow was at Coronel, Admiral von Spee determined to make an attempt to cut her off, and with this intention steamed southward on November 1 with his whole squadron. By good fortune the Glasgow left harbour before it was too late. Almost at the same moment, Admiral Cradock began his sweep northward, hoping to catch the Leipzig, whose wireless had been heard repeatedly by the Glasgow. He was rejoined by the Glasgow at half-past two, and the whole squadron proceeded northward abreast about fifteen miles apart. At about half-past four the smoke of several vessels was seen to the northward, and in another quarter of an hour the Glasgow was able to identify the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and a German light cruiser. The Canopus was nearly 300 miles away. Was there still time to refuse action? Undoubtedly there was. The Good Hope and Monmouth had normal speeds of 23 knots and 22·4 respectively and could certainly steam 21 knots in company that day. The Glasgow could steam over 25. The Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had nominal speeds of 23·2 and 23·5; but they had been long in southern seas and out of dock. On the knowledge he possessed at that moment Admiral Cradock would have been liberal in allowing them 22 knots. Rough weather would reduce speeds equally on both sides. Had he turned at once and by standing out to sea offered a stern chase to the enemy, he could only be overhauled one knot each hour. When the enemy was sighted by the Glasgow at 4.45, the nearest armoured ships were about 20 miles apart. There were scarcely two hours to sundown and less than three to darkness.
But the Otranto was a possible complication. She could only steam 18 knots, and against the head sea during the action she did in fact only steam 15 knots. As this weak, slow ship had been for some unexplained reason sent on ahead with the Glasgow, she was at the moment of sighting the enemy only 17 miles distant. Assuming that Admiral von Spee could steam 22 knots, less 3 for the head sea, i.e. 19, he would overhaul the Otranto 4 knots an hour. On this he might have brought her under long-range fire as darkness closed in. To that extent she reduced the speed of the British squadron and diminished their chances of safety. This may have weighed with Admiral Cradock.
We now know, of course, that in spite of being cumbered with the Otranto he could, as it happened, easily and certainly have declined action had he attempted to do so. At the moment of being sighted, Admiral von Spee had only steam for 14 knots, and had to light two more boilers to realise his full speed. Further his ships were dispersed. To concentrate and gain speed took an hour and a half off the brief daylight during which the British ships would actually have been increasing their distance. Moreover, in the chase and battle of the Falklands the greatest speed ever developed by the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau did not exceed 20 knots in favourable weather. There is therefore no doubt he could have got away untouched.
But nothing was farther from the mind of Admiral Cradock. He instantly decided to attack. As soon as the Glasgow had sighted the enemy, she had turned back towards the flagship, preceded by the Monmouth and the Otranto all returning at full speed. But Admiral Cradock at 5.10 ordered the squadron to concentrate, not on his flagship the Good Hope, the farthest ship from the enemy, but on the Glasgow, which though retreating rapidly was still the nearest. At 6.18 he signalled to the distant Canopus: ‘I am now going to attack enemy.’ The decision to fight sealed his fate, and more than that the fate of the squadron.
To quote the log of the Glasgow, ‘The British Squadron turned to port four points together towards the enemy with a view to closing them and forcing them to action before sunset, which if successful would have put them at a great disadvantage owing to the British squadron being between the enemy and the sun.’ The German Admiral easily evaded this manœuvre by turning away towards the land and keeping at a range of at least 18,000 yards. Both squadrons were now steaming southward on slightly converging courses—the British to seaward with the setting sun behind them, and the Germans nearer the land. And now began the saddest naval action in the war. Of the officers and men in both the squadrons that faced each other in these stormy seas so far from home, nine out of ten were doomed to perish. The British were to die that night: the Germans a month later. At 7 o’clock the sun sank beneath the horizon, and the German Admiral, no longer dazzled by its rays, opened fire. The British ships were silhouetted against the afterglow, while the Germans were hardly visible against the dark background of the Chilean coast. A complete reversal of advantage had taken place. The sea was high, and the main deck 6–inch guns both of the Monmouth and of the Good Hope must have been much affected by the dashing spray. The German batteries, all mounted in modern fashion on the upper deck, suffered no corresponding disadvantage from the rough weather. The unequal contest lasted less than an hour. One of the earliest German salvos probably disabled the Good Hope’s forward 9·2–inch gun, which was not fired throughout the action. Both she and the Monmouth were soon on fire. Darkness came on and the sea increased in violence till the Good Hope, after a great explosion, became only a glowing speck which was presently extinguished; and the Monmouth, absolutely helpless but refusing to surrender, was destroyed by the Nürnberg, and foundered, like her consort, with her flag still flying. The Otranto, an unarmoured merchantman, quite incapable of taking part in the action, rightly held her distance and disappeared into the gloom. Only the little Glasgow, which miraculously escaped fatal damage among the heavy salvos, continued the action until she was left alone in darkness on the stormy seas. There were no survivors from the two British ships: all perished, from Admiral to seaman. The Germans had no loss of life.
Quoth the Glasgow in her subsequent report:—