The Navy Everywhere

CHAPTER I THE WHITE FLAG AT DAR-ES-SALAAM

The harbour of Dar-es-Salaam lies somewhere near the middle of the coast of what was once known as German East Africa—about a hundred miles north of the Rufigi River, where the Königsberg was found. When war broke out between England and Germany, the Governor of Dar-es-Salaam, probably acting upon instructions, had a floating dock towed to the entrance of the harbour, and there sunk, in order to block the channel. Whether or not it actually did block the channel was not decided at the time, but the intention of it was obvious, and the question that arose was, why did not the Germans take their ships out of the harbour first before they blocked, or attempted to block, the fairway? There were four or five ships inside, and any one of them could have been of great service as a tender to a German raider, such as the Königsberg, but yet they were all left inside when the obstruction was sunk at the harbour entrance. Of course it might be put down as one of Germany’s blunders, but, on the other hand, it might be possible for those ships to circumvent the obstruction, or again, the sunken dock might be refloated to allow them to pass out when required.

Dar-es-Salaam was ostensibly an undefended port at the beginning of the war, and when H.M.S. Astræa called there on 8th August 1914 she took it upon herself to treat the place as such. She destroyed the wireless installation as a necessary precaution, and then opened negotiations with the governor. In return for his immunity from hostile operations he made a pledge that the sunken dock should not be raised, that all vessels in the harbour should be regarded as British prizes, and that no attempt should be made to take any of them out to sea. In those days we regarded the pledge of a German as being at least of some value, though we may have been a little hazy as to how much value we ought to put on it.

A few weeks later the Pegasus, lying up for repairs in Zanzibar Harbour, was destroyed by the Königsberg, and it was ascertained for a fact that this German raider had been using Dar-es-Salaam Harbour. This completely changed the situation, for it showed that a ship could get in and out of the harbour in spite of the obstruction, and, this being the case, it was more than likely that our prizes there would make their escape sooner or later, and one or more of them would take coal and provisions to the raider. So on 21st October the Chatham called at Dar-es-Salaam to see what was going on.

There were two ships lying behind the thick belt of palm trees, their masts visible to the Chatham, who thought at first that they were the Königsberg and one of her consorts. So she took the range, and fired two or three shells, taking care not to hit the town. The Senior Naval Officer, however, soon discovered that he had been mistaken as to the identity of the ships, and, having insisted upon the removal of their wireless telegraphy aerials, he left them to their own devices, for he had more important work on hand. Nine days later he found the Königsberg herself, hiding up the Rufigi River.

Dar-es-Salaam was left alone for over a month, but the Senior Naval Officer was never satisfied that the obstruction really blocked the fairway, and he had even less faith in the pledge of the governor that the ships would not try to escape. On 28th November H.M.S. Fox and Goliath, with two

small vessels in company, anchored off Makatumbe Island, which lies a few miles out to sea from Dares-Salaam, and hoisted the international signal to the people ashore to send off a boat. It must be explained that the situation had changed completely, since those early war days, when the Astræa paid her visit there. The exploits of the Königsberg had clearly indicated that East Africa was not to be excluded from the war zone, whatever might be the pledges of the local governors; and then came our military disaster at Tanga, when we altogether underestimated the resistance likely to be offered by the enemy, with the result that we came off with 800 casualties—and some valuable experience. Moreover, the Navy had been busy in the Rufigi River, bottling up the Königsberg, so that when they arrived off Dar-es-Salaam they were there for business, and in no mood for anything else.

At the same time it must be remembered that Dar-es-Salaam purported to be an undefended harbour, and was entitled to be treated as such, until there was evidence of hostile intentions on the part of its inhabitants. So the Senior Naval Officer hoisted the signal for a boat and waited on events. After an hour or so a motor-boat came out of harbour, flying a flag of truce, and brought up alongside H.M.S. Fox. In it were the acting governor, the district commissioner, and the captain of the port, who all came aboard, and were conducted to the Senior Naval Officer’s cabin. Mr. King, formerly British Consul at Dar-es-Salaam, acted as interpreter.

The Senior Naval Officer reminded the German officials that the ships in Dar-es-Salaam Harbour were all British prizes, and informed them that he had come to inspect these ships, to take such steps as might be necessary to disable them, and to withdraw from the harbour or disable any small craft which might be used against the British forces. Now, one of the ships in the harbour was the s.s. Tabora, which had been painted as a hospital ship, and according to the Germans was being used as such. At Lindi we had found the s.s. Prasident painted in the same way, and had been told the same yarn—that she was being used as a hospital ship—but we had discovered by inspecting her that the yarn was all a tissue of lies, and that the ship was palpably a collier, which had recently been used for supplying the Königsberg. So we were naturally suspicious about the Tabora, and the Senior Naval Officer pointed out to the German officials that she had not complied with the international regulations, necessary to convert her into an accredited hospital ship. He added, however, that he had no wish to cause suffering to any sick persons, who might be aboard her, and that he would send a medical officer to inspect her. He would also send a demolition party to disable her engines, but nothing should be done in this direction if the medical officer was of opinion that it would be injurious to any of the patients on board. He further assured them that no damage should be done to the town or its inhabitants, so long as no opposition was offered to the working parties, whom he was going to send into the harbour, to do what was necessary for the disablement of the engines of the various ships.

The acting governor was obviously very uncomfortable and ill at ease. All he could say was that he would like to confer with the military authorities at Dar-es-Salaam. Military authorities in an undefended port seem to be rather out of place, but the Senior Naval Officer waived the point, and merely told him that he would be given a good half-hour or so after landing, before the British boats entered the harbour. The governor then asked rather a curious question. Would these boats carry on their operations under the white flag? The Senior Naval Officer, somewhat surprised at such a question, naturally answered in the negative, and at that the German officials took their departure and returned to the town.

A good deal more than the half-hour’s grace was allowed before a steam-cutter was sent in to sound and buoy the channel into the harbour. It was noticed that two white flags had been hoisted on the flag-staff over against the look-out tower at the entrance, and these floated conspicuously in the breeze, so that they could be seen from all directions. The occupants of the steam-cutter, as soon as they rounded the bend, noticed a lady driving in a carriage drawn by a pair of horses along a road close to the water’s edge. Everything looked so peaceful that one would have imagined that our dear German brothers in Dar-es-Salaam had never heard of the war.

When a channel had been buoyed, one of the tugs (the Helmuth), accompanied by the Goliath’s steam-pinnace, was ordered to proceed into the harbour with the demolition party. The other tug (the Duplex), owing to some engine-room defects, did not enter the harbour, but lay at anchor about two miles from it. The two ships, Fox and Goliath, were about five miles from the shore, and those on board them were taking only a languid interest in the proceedings, for the two white flags at the lookout tower were flaunted in their faces, and war seemed to them a very tame affair after all. It is very easy to be wise after any event, and to say that this or that precaution should have been taken, but it must be borne in mind that there were the two white flags, conspicuous to everyone, and the enemy was not a barbarous tribe from the African jungle, but purported to be a civilised European people.

So the Helmuth proceeded up the harbour to where two ships, called the König and Feldmarschall, were lying, and the demolition party boarded the König, and proceeded to destroy her engines by placing an explosive charge under the low-pressure cylinder, followed by another one inside it. The crew of the König appeared to consist mainly of Lascars, and the only officers on board were the chief engineer and the fourth officer. From these it was learned that all the rest of the officers...