CHAPTER III

TREACHERY

Daybreak of Saturday, November 28, 1914, found us off Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of what was then German East Africa. It lies about twenty miles south of Zanzibar. We anchored some three miles outside the harbour, but our consorts—a cruiser, an armed auxiliary vessel, and the _Helmuth_—a tug previously captured from the Germans—went much closer in.

The outer anchorage at Dar-es-Salaam is a broad, open bay studded with coral reefs, and we lay not far from the small lighthouse situated at the extremity of a rocky point running out from the southern end of the bay. The distant shore was veiled in the mists of early morning, but with the aid of glasses we could make out the sweep of white pebbly beach and the waving tops of palms. Here and there houses peeped out among the trees, the most prominent being the Governor’s residence; and farther north, right on the sea-front, appeared the new European hospital—a large red-brick building. Two white flags were flying from a signal-station at the entrance to the inner harbour, but this harbour itself could not be seen from the ship.

In response to signal, the Governor came out in a small motor-boat and boarded the cruiser—the senior ship. There he was interviewed by the captain, who told him that it was our intention to send boats in to examine the ships in the port and to deal with them as we saw fit, with a view to preventing them from putting to sea. The reason for this was that those vessels were suspected of supplying food, etc., to the crew of the _Königsberg_—that Teutonic commerce raider which a short time before had been bottled up in the Rufigi River. He also stated that in the event of any hostility being shown to our men in the execution of their duty we should bombard the town.

I believe that the Governor agreed to these proposals, but said that he could not answer for the attitude of the military. He was then returned under safe conduct to the shore, and shortly afterwards a German military officer came out and stated that our boats would not be molested.

All these preliminary negotiations took some time, and it was not until about 11 a.m. that our picket-boat and the tug started on their mission. The former had the misfortune to collide with a floating dock which the Huns had sunk right in the narrow channel which formed the entrance to the harbour, and sustained such damage to her rudder as to be out of control, so she had to be towed back to the ship and the steam-pinnace was got out to take her place.

I was ordered to go in and board and examine the S.S. _Tabora_. This was a passenger-steamer of the Deutsch Ostafrika Line, and claimed by the Germans to be a hospital ship; she had not, however, been registered as such at the beginning of the war. It was intended, should her _bona fides_ seem doubtful, to disable her engines. In company with the torpedo lieutenant I embarked in the pinnace, and left the ship about midday.

The entrance to the inner harbour is very narrow, being at one point less than two hundred yards across, but the channel is quite deep and large vessels were able to enter at high tide. Now, however, the fairway was very much obstructed by the submerged floating dock. The cruiser’s steamboat was busy taking soundings as we went through, and we successfully negotiated the passage. The town of Dar-es-Salaam looked very pretty that morning. Its well-built two-storied stone houses, painted white, with tiled and slated roofs, are set among trees and flowering shrubs, and some of them have deep, shady balconies and verandahs which looked cool and inviting. Stretches of green turf ran down to the white, sandy beach; here and there were clumps of bushes and cloudy masses of purple Bougainvillier. But there was not a sign of any human being. The town looked absolutely deserted; and yet, as subsequent events will show, many hidden eyes must have been eagerly watching our approach.

The _Tabora_ was lying about the middle of the harbour; she had a red cross painted on her side, and was flying the hospital flag from her masthead. As we passed her I noticed several figures on the deck, among them being a woman in nurse’s garb. They were all staring hard at us, and probably bitterly reviling the “_verdammte Engländer_.” However, the moment had not arrived for me to board her, and so the pinnace passed by and went on up the creek, where we expected to find the other two steamers and the tug _Helmuth_, which had preceded us earlier in the morning. Sure enough, about a mile further up we found two ships of the D.O.A. Line, the _Koenig_ and the _Feldmarschal_. They were lying moored together across the creek with their bows almost touching the bank. As we came alongside the _Koenig_ our Commander hailed us from her deck and told the torpedo lieutenant to come aboard and take charge of the explosive work while he took the pinnace further up on a voyage of discovery. I thereupon transhipped to the _Helmuth_, which was under orders to tow out to our ships two boat-loads of prisoners, and the Commander issued instructions that I should be put aboard the _Tabora_ on the way. A number of German prisoners were sitting in one of the _Koenig’s_ lifeboats, each with a bundle of clothing on his knees or on the thwart beside him. These were engineers and stewards from the two ships; and in another boat were several native firemen.

While we were still alongside the _Koenig_ there came a sudden crash from somewhere deep down in her internal economy—the engine-room, to be precise—and the glass from the skylights, shattered by the explosion, fell tinkling on the deck—Torps was getting to work. The _Helmuth_ now steamed down the creek towing the two boats with the prisoners and their guards, and when we got abreast the _Tabora_ we ran alongside and I boarded her. The tug at once pushed off again, the lieutenant saying that he would return and pick me up later, after he had taken the prisoners out to the ships.

Captain Gauhe in command of the _Tabora_ met me at the top of the gangway, and in fluent English asked me my business. I explained that I was a doctor, and had been instructed to examine his ship in order to make sure that she was—as she claimed to be—a hospital ship. He seemed surprised, but offered no objections, and turning round introduced me to Dr. Weiss, a thin man with projecting ears, and a small, weak chin. The doctor spoke no English, and as at that time my German was no better than that of the average man who has learned the grammar at school and neglected it ever since, we only bowed, and smiled distantly.

The captain then led the way below, explaining as he did so that they had practically no patients on board, as up to the present the shore hospital had been able to meet all demands for accommodation.

On the first-class deck the Sister was introduced to me, but as she too spoke no English, once more I only bowed. I noticed that in contrast to the captain, who was amiable and chatty, and the doctor, who seemed merely nervous, this woman regarded me with a very suspicious and hostile eye.

I looked into several cabins and found that some of the bunks had been removed and those that remained were made up with clean sheets and pillows, apparently all ready for the reception of patients. In response to my enquiry as to whether there _were_ any patients, I was taken into a small cabin where I found a man lying in bed, and I was informed that he had undergone an operation, but he looked remarkably fit and healthy. On turning down the bedclothes I found he had his trousers on! This looked very suspicious. And although further examination revealed a surgical dressing secured with bandages, I asked for these to be removed. Then I saw that he really had a healing operation wound; apparently he was convalescent, but on my arrival had been hurriedly put to bed, with the somewhat childish idea of giving a more convincing aspect to the _Tabora’s_ claim to be a genuine hospital ship. Just as the patient was being re-bandaged I was startled by the sinister rattle of a machine-gun. My examination went no further! With one accord we made a dash for the porthole, but could see nothing from there. Just for a second we looked at each other in consternation, then we made a simultaneous rush for the upper deck. Then we saw the _Helmuth_ with the two boats in tow, steaming through the narrow neck for the open bay as hard as she could lick. All around her the water was lashed by flying bullets, and from the bushes on the shore little spurts of smoke were drifting up into the still air. Not a soul was visible in the boats, presumably they were all crouching in the bottom, and there was no sound save the ominous rat-a-tat-tat of the machine-gun.

“_Mein Gott!_” cried the old captain, wringing his hands. “_Mein Gott! Mein Gott! Mein Gott!_ Dear! Dear! Dear!... Ah, why shoot? Fools! We can’t fight ships!”

But I was only dimly conscious of the commotion around me, for my gaze was riveted on the _Helmuth_. She was steadily forging ahead, and an occasional puff of smoke from her deck showed that the crew, crouching behind their sandbags, were answering the fire.

“God!” I whispered; “she’ll be on the beach in a minute!”

It looked as though she would never take the bend. I thought that the coxswain must be shot, and that no one had noticed it. Would she never turn? She seemed running straight for the beach at the foot of the signal staff.... At last ... she swung round ... cleared the bend ... and was lost to sight. As she disappeared the fire from the shore slackened, and after a few more desultory shots, ceased altogether.... Once more a hot, sleepy silence reigned....

I drew a long breath of relief.... It had all passed so quickly, that but for the babel that now broke forth on deck, it might have been a waking nightmare. I turned to the captain, who was terribly excited.

“Oh, Doctor,” he exclaimed, “what fools! Oh, why did they fire? Your ships will shoot now, will they not?”

I nodded grimly as I answered: “Yes, I expect so.”

In almost breathless suspense we waited—watching—listening. From the _Tabora_ we could not see our ships, or what was happening outside.

In a little while, from far out at sea, came a dull _boom_ ... and a moment later the first shell crashed into the palm-trees on the beach. Then they came fast and furious, smashing up the undergrowth, tearing down great palm-fronds, and throwing up fountains of sand. The cocoanut-trees were waving and tossing as in a gale, and above their tops hung clouds of dust and smoke. Presently we heard a yet louder explosion.... Something, probably a house, had been hit. The reddish-yellow lyddite fumes were quickly followed by a dense cloud of black smoke which rolled up over the trees, and the fierce crackle of burning wood was distinctly audible.

I turned to the captain. “What is it?” I asked.

“The Governor’s house,” he replied. And in spite of the imminent danger I felt a thrill of exultation that the vile treachery had been so speedily avenged.

For a few seconds the firing seemed to die down; then it broke out afresh. The gunners had now turned their attention to the harbour entrance and we could mark the effect of every shell. Shot after shot dropped round the base of the flagstaff, from which the mocking white flags were still flying. I thought the ships were trying to bring it down; it still stood, however.

Now and again a shell would fall just short of the beach, and exploding, send columns of water and spray high into the air. I saw one shot hit a corner of the signal-house. There followed a cloud of dust; a few bricks seemed to topple slowly over, revealing a jagged hole as though some giant had taken a huge bite.

It was a curious experience. I had frequently watched a battle-practice from the deck of a ship, but this was the first time that I had seen a bombardment from the target end. It was interesting—but exceedingly uncomfortable, especially as shots soon came flying round the _Tabora_, several plumping into the water almost alongside. Others came over our heads, and as we instinctively and futilely ducked, went sailing away with a long, wailing scream to bury themselves in the undergrowth on the far shore.

The poor old captain was beside himself with anxiety. He herded everyone to the far end of the steamer and stood guard over them like a sheep-dog. The natives crouched under their blankets, howling in dismal chorus each time that a shell went screaming overhead. In the intervals they peeped out fearfully at me as though I was the evil genius that had brought this storm upon them.

Said the captain to me: “Shall I put everyone in the boats and send them ashore?”

“No,” I answered; “I think it is just as safe—probably safer—on board.”

“But they are firing at the ship!” he exclaimed.

“No, I think not.”

“They know you are on board? They won’t fire at us?”

“Yes, they probably know I am here. I don’t think they are trying to hit the ship. It is best to stay where we are.”

Presently the firing ceased. I had no watch, but I reckoned that the bombardment lasted about fifteen minutes. The _Tabora_ received no direct hit, but a large fragment of 12-inch shell landed in her forecastle.

For a little while we waited on deck, listening and watching, but the afternoon stillness was broken only by the crackling of wood from the Governor’s house, which was still burning merrily. At length we came to the conclusion that, for the time being at any rate, the bombardment was over, and the captain led the way into the first saloon and offered me a whisky-and-soda, which I most gratefully accepted. I was now introduced to the engineer, an enormously fat man; there were no less than three distinct rolls of fat—I counted them—between the band of his cap and the collar of his tunic, and he could just squeeze into a large armchair! This officer also spoke good English, but he did not waste much time in talking! He put away three long whiskies-and-sodas in quick succession, drinking them off as if they were bocks.

After two whiskies and a cigar, I felt much better, and began to ponder on what I should do next. I knew the pinnace was still up the creek, and wondered if she had been captured—which seemed possible, as although it was some time since the cessation of the bombardment, she had not yet put in an appearance.

It was about an hour later when, to my intense relief, I at last saw something coming down the stream, and with the aid of glasses made out that it was indeed the pinnace, although at first I could not be certain, as she had a large lighter lashed on each side of her. Having satisfied myself that she was still flying the White Ensign, I asked the captain to let me have a boat to put me aboard her.

“You will send my boat back?” he queried.

“Certainly,” I answered.

With that he ordered his rowing-skiff to be made ready and manned by four natives of the _Tabora’s_ crew. Then, after condoling with him on the nervous strain to which he had been subjected, and congratulating him on the lucky escape of his ship, I bade him good-bye and stepped light-heartedly into the waiting boat.

As I lighted my pipe I hugged the idea that my troubles were over, and a very nasty episode at an end. I knew, of course, that we were likely to be fired at as we went out, but I thought that I should be snug aboard the pinnace, and further that I should be able to tell the Commander where the enemy’s guns were.

As we pushed off and started rowing up-stream, I stood up in the stern and waved to the oncoming pinnace. She had the ebb with her and was coming down at a fair pace. The Commander was standing by the coxswain—he had just answered my hail—and I was turning my boat round so that he could run alongside and pick me up, when suddenly there was a hail of bullets all round us. The natives gave one wild howl, dropped their oars, and grovelled in the bottom of the boat. I kicked the nearest, threatened the others, and managed to get them back into their seats and to grab the oars as they floated by.

Meanwhile we were subjected to an erratic fire from the shore, but the Germans speedily got our range and the bullets began to whistle by unpleasantly close to my head. One of the crew—hit in the chest—slipped off the thwart with a groan, and once more the others took cover in the bottom of the skiff.

A rapid glance at the pinnace showed me that she was still about fifty yards off; the Commander was firing his revolver at the beach. I crouched down and waited in the hope that she would come alongside between me and the shore, so that I could scramble aboard.... The native who had been hit was already past help; even as I tried to crawl to his assistance he gave a convulsive quiver and died.

The bullets were fairly humming overhead; now and then a deeper note in the menacing chorus suggested the passage of some larger projectile—probably something in the nature of a shot from a one-pounder. With straining ears I listened to the beat of the steamboat’s engines, but as the minutes passed, instead of drawing nearer it seemed to me that the sound was getting fainter. Now there were fewer shots flying over my boat ... the fire was drawing off.... Very cautiously I raised my head to see what was happening.... Good heavens!... The pinnace was almost past the _Tabora_.... I swore! Then, as she was now out of range, the marksmen on the beach turned their attention to me again. Once more the bullets came whizzing past my head.... There was nothing for it but to get down. I lay on my back in the bottom of the boat and cursed.

After a few more shots the firing ceased.... Then I realised that my pipe had burnt out; quite unconsciously I had continued to smoke throughout those frenzied moments!

I heard the pinnace run the gauntlet of the guns at the entrance to the harbour—and then the firing died down again.

Wondering if those beggars on the beach were still watching my boat, I held my topee above the gunwale.... Sure enough, there came an immediate answering volley, and a bullet crashed through the gunwale just above my head. The shooting was improving.... I made up my mind that I was certain to be hit, and fell to wondering what it would feel like.... Would it sting and smart, or simply numb?

They now kept up an irregular fire, evidently taking pot-shots at me.... Probably betting on the results. I felt wild! There I was, lying on my back in an open boat being fired at, and with no chance of replying, for, as a medical man, I was absolutely unarmed.

With a sudden inspiration I seized the tiller-ropes and moved the rudder from side to side, hoping to impart a little way to the boat. I could not judge of the result and did not care in what direction I went, my one idea being to get out of my present predicament. At length I saw the masts of the _Tabora_ coming into view over the gunwale. Slowly they grew taller and taller. The ebb-tide was carrying the boat down, and with any luck we should drift alongside. As we neared her the fire from the shore ceased, and in another minute we were able to sit up and paddle to the gangway.

Every soul on board was leaning over the rail, looking down on us and chattering excitedly. As I gained the deck the captain grasped my hand.

“Oh, Doctor,” he exclaimed, “are you hit? Have you been wounded? I had no idea they would fire at you. Oh, you _do_ believe me, _don’t_ you?” And he kept on repeating over and over again: “I would _never_ have allowed you to go if I had known they would shoot at you.”

He was most genuinely distressed, and I am sure he spoke in all sincerity.

“Did the steamboat get out all right?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered; “it was marvellous to see how steadily she held her course. I saw one man with blood running down his arm, and others lying on the deck firing. Ah! ... the fire was terrific! It is wonderful if anyone came through alive.”

Just after I got on board the ships opened fire again, and we were subjected to another bombardment even more trying than the first, but mercifully shorter.

It was now getting late in the day.

“The night fell swiftly; this sudden land Can never lend us a twilight strand T’wixt the daylight shore and the ocean night, But takes—as it gives—at once the light.”

After the mad turmoil of the afternoon the silence was uncanny. I felt absolutely finished; the reaction after all the excitement was worse than the actual strain at the time. I found my hand shaking when I lifted a glass to my lips, and I could not stop it though I realised how absurd it was. I felt so dead tired, mentally and physically, I could not even bother to wonder what would become of me, or how I could rejoin my ship.

The captain invited me to dine with him in his cabin, and provided a very nice little meal; but I was too tired to be properly appreciative.

While we were still at table some of the native crew came in and spoke excitedly to my host. When they had gone he told me that they had said that nothing would induce them to take me in a boat again. I said that I could quite understand their feelings, and did not blame them. After all, it was not their quarrel!

“But,” asked the captain, “how will you get back to your ship? Will they send a boat for you to-night?”

“I don’t think they will send any more boats now,” I answered, “but I hope they will send in the morning.”

“Then you had better sleep on board to-night,” he said. “I can let you have a cabin. Will you promise to stay in it?”

I promised.

The steward brought me a new toothbrush and a tin of “Three Castles” cigarettes. I had no sleeping-suit, so I turned in in my shirt. But in spite of my exhaustion, perhaps because of it, it was not until early morning that I fell asleep.