Von Müller now put the prow of the Emden to sea again, for he feared that both the Yarmouth and the French cruiser Dupleix had by then been summoned by wireless. Luck was with him. Half an hour after leaving the harbor he sighted a ship flying a red flag, which showed him at once that she was carrying a cargo of powder. He badly needed the ammunition, and he prepared to capture her. But this operation was interrupted by a mirage, which caused the small French destroyer Mosquet to appear like a huge battleship. When he discovered the truth, Von Müller closed with the Frenchman, who came to the rescue of the Glenturret, the powder ship. Destroyer and cruiser closed for a fight, the former trying to get close enough to make work with torpedoes possible, but the long range of the Emden's guns prevented this, and the Mosquet was badly damaged by having her engine room hit. Soon she was in a bad way, and Von Müller ordered his guns silenced, thinking the destroyer would now give up the fight. But the Frenchman was valiant and refused to do so; he let go with two torpedoes which did not find their mark, and was immediately subjected to a withering fire, which caused his ship to sink, bow first.
One of the destroyers which had been in the harbor now came out to take issue with the Emden, but it was the business of the latter to continue destroying merchant ships and not to run the risk of having her career ended by a warship, so she immediately put off for the Indian Ocean. A storm which then came up permitted her to make a better escape.
It was not until the 9th of November that the world at large heard more of her, and it proved to be the last day of her reign of terror. There was a British wireless and cable station on the Cocos (Keeling) Isles, southwest of Java, and Von Müller had determined to interrupt the communication maintained there connecting India, Australia, and South Africa. Forty men and three officers, with three machine guns, were detailed by him as a landing party to destroy instruments and cut the cables. But such a thing had been partially forestalled by the British authorities, who had set up false cable ends. These were destroyed by the deceived Germans. When the Emden had first made her appearance the news had been sent out by the wireless operator on shore, not knowing what ships would pick up his calls.
This time luck was against Von Müller, for it so happened that a convoy of troop ships from Australia was passing within one hundred miles. They were accompanied by the Australian cruisers Melbourne and Sydney. The latter was dispatched to go to the Cocos Islands, and by getting up a speed of 26 knots she reached them in less than three hours. Von Müller knew that escape by flight was impossible, for his ship had been weeks at sea; her boilers were crusted, her machinery badly in need of repair, and she had not too much coal. He therefore decided to give battle, and went straight for the Sydney at full speed. His object was to meet her on even terms, for her advantage was that her guns had much greater range than those of the Emden. If he could get close enough he might be able to use his torpedo tubes. But Captain Glossop of the Sydney saw through this maneuver and maintained good distance between the two ships. About the first shot from the Emden killed the man at the range finder on the fore bridge of the Sydney. Captain Glossop was standing within a few feet of him at the time.
The replies from the Australian ship were fatal. The foremost funnel of the Emden crumpled and fell; her fire almost ceased, and then she began to burn; the second funnel and the third fell also; there was nothing left but to beach her, which Von Müller did, just before noon. While she lay there helpless the Sydney shot more steel into her, leaving her quite helpless, and then went off to chase a merchant ship which had been sighted during the fighting and which, when caught, proved to be the British ship Buresk, now manned by Germans and doing duty as collier to the Emden. Returning to the latter, Captain Glossop saw that she still flew the German flag at her masthead. He signaled her, asking whether she would surrender, but receiving no reply after waiting five minutes he let her have a few more salvos. The German flag came down and the white flag went up in its place. The Jemchug had been avenged, and the terribly costly career of the Emden brought to an end. Von Müller was taken prisoner, and on account of his valor was permitted to keep his sword. But the landing party, which had cut the false cables, was still at large. The adventures of these three officers and forty men form a separate story, which will be narrated later.
CHAPTER XXXVI
BATTLE OFF THE FALKLANDS
The defeat of the British squadron back in the first week of November had sorely tried the patience of the British public, and the admiralty felt the necessity of retrieving faith in the navy. Von Spee was still master of the waters near the Horn, and till his ships had again been met the British could not boast of being rulers of the waves. Consequently Admiral Fisher detailed the two battle cruisers Invincible and Inflexible to go to the Falkland Islands. They left England November 11, 1914, and on the outward journey met with and took along the light cruisers Carnarvon, Kent, and Cornwall, the second-class cruiser Bristol, and the converted liner Macedonia. The Canopus and the Glasgow, now repaired, all joined the squadron, which was commanded by Admiral Sturdee. The vessels coaled at Stanley, Falkland Islands, and while so engaged on December 8 were warned by a civilian volunteer watcher on a near-by hill that two strange vessels had made their appearance in the distance. British naval officers identified them and other vessels which were coming into view as the ships of Von Spee's squadron, the one which had been victorious off Coronel.
During the interval that had elapsed since that engagement these German ships had not been idle. Von Spee knew that the Glasgow had gone to the Falklands and that there were important wireless stations there, but he put off going after those prizes and picked up others. The Nürnberg had cut communication between Banfield and Fanning Islands. Two British trading ships had fallen victims to the Dresden, and four more had met the same end at the hands of the Leipzig. For coal and other supplies Von Spee had been relying on the Chilean ports, but now came trouble between him and the port authorities, for England was accusing the South American nation of acting without regard to neutrality. It was for this reason that Von Spee turned southward to take the Falkland Islands. The world at large, and of course Von Spee, had no knowledge of the ships which had set out from Plymouth for the Falklands on the eleventh of the month, so he approached in full expectation of making not only a raid but for occupation. He knew that he would have to exchange shots with the Glasgow and perhaps some small ships, and he believed the islands weakly defended by forts, but there was nothing in that to defer his attack. The result—the lookout near Stanley had reported the oncoming warships Gneisenau and Scharnhorst, followed by the rest of the German squadron. German guns were trained on the wireless station, and great was the surprise of the unfortunate Von Spee and his officers when there was heard the booming of guns which they knew immediately must be mounted on warships larger than their own. Their scouting had been defective, and the presence of the Inflexible and Invincible had till then not been discovered. They then reasoned that these were the guns of the Canopus—a critical and fatal error.
The Canopus from behind the hills fired on the German ships in an endeavor to protect the wireless station. Beyond the range of her guns hovered the lighter German cruisers Dresden, Leipzig, and Nürnberg to await the outcoming of the Glasgow. Both the Gneisenau and Scharnhorst concentrated their fire on the Canopus, and when the Glasgow, accompanied by the Carnarvon, Cornwall, and Kent, made her appearance it did not change the battle formation of the Germans, for the Canopus was still the only large vessel they were aware of. Now the Leipzig came nearer in order to take up the fight with the lighter British ships. By nine in the morning the German ships were drawn out in single file, running parallel with the shore in a northeasterly direction. At the head of the line was the Gneisenau, followed by the Dresden, Scharnhorst, Nürnberg, and Leipzig, in that order. They thought that this would entice what