Chapter 22

"On the 7th of January, between 9 and 10 o'clock in the evening, we sneaked through the Strait of Perim. That lay swarming full of Englishmen. We steered along the African coast, close past an English cable layer. That is my prettiest delight--how the Englishmen will be vexed when they learn that we have passed smoothly by Perim. On the next evening we saw on the coast a few lights upon the water. We thought that must be the pier of Hodeida. But when we measured the distance by night, 3,000 meters, I began to think that must be something else. At dawn I made out two masts and four smokestacks; that was an enemy ship, and, what is more, an armored French cruiser. I therefore ordered the Choising to put to sea, and to return at night.

"The next day and night the same; then we put out four boats--these we pulled to shore at sunrise under the eyes of the unsuspecting Frenchmen. The sea reeds were thick. A few Arabs came close to us; then there ensued a difficult negotiation with the Arabian Coast Guards. For we did not even know whether Hodeida was in English or French hands. We waved to them, laid aside our arms, and made signs to them. The Arabs, gathering together, begin to rub two fingers together; that means 'We are friends.' We thought that meant 'We are going to rub against you and are hostile.' I therefore said: 'Boom-boom!' and pointed to the warship. At all events, I set up my machine guns and made preparations for a skirmish. But, thank God! one of the Arabs understood the word 'Germans'; that was good.

"Soon a hundred Arabs came and helped us, and as we marched into Hodeida the Turkish soldiers, who had been called out against us, saluted us as allies and friends. To be sure, there was not a trace of a railway, but we were received very well, and they assured us we could get through by land. Therefore, I gave red-star signals at night, telling the Choising to sail away, since the enemy was near by. Inquiries and determination concerning a safe journey by land proceeded. I also heard that in the interior, about six days' journey away, there was healthy highland where our fever invalids could recuperate. I therefore determined to journey next to Sana. On the Kaiser's birthday we held a great parade in common with the Turkish troops--all this under the noses of the Frenchmen. On the same day we marched away from Hodeida to the highland."

A PATH OF TRIUMPH.

DAMASCUS, May 10.--The Arabian railway was today transformed into a German Via Triumphalis--military receptions, flowers, flags at the stations, and a feast in the great rug-carpeted tent. Then once more straight through the desert and in the midst of 1,000 curious glances stood these cheerful and serious men and youths, unembarrassed, friendly, plain; amid them always the tallest, Mücke, who conceals his impatience to get to Germany behind every courteous phrase. The German builder of the railway, the German Consul, the German bank director, and officials came riding to meet them. Finally they had garlanded the machine, decked with the Turkish and the Emden's flag. Thus the German train rode into this splendid green and white oasis, into the old city of Arabian fairy tales, Arabian weapons, Arabian powers, all of which are no more fantastic than the adventures which the fifty homecomers told on the journey.

The Wali was waiting and the commanding General; militia by hundreds stood in rows, presenting arms with white gloves; music played in march time they well knew; softly howling Dervishes with their high hats stood in orderly traditional rows and played their wild flute notes, and the long man and his blond, young officers, all in their fantastic Arab headdress, the aghal, came out first; they came with their guns in their right hands.

Now Mücke gave orders to the landing corps of S.M.S. Emden. They marched in rhythmic step. The Turkish company took the Germans into its midst, saw them marching in the dazzling sunlight, these blue-eyed youths of yesteryear, now dressed in khaki and fez, many of them yellow from the malaria from which they had recovered; and as, amid the applause of the Turkish soldiers, they marched into the seraglio I could understand the amazement of the crowd. I have seen men of spirit and men of determination and courage, but I have found few at the same time so modest, so uncorruptible by fame, as these German soldiers. Can there be a greater temptation to lead young officers astray than that of being gazed at with admiration as strange adventurers celebrated as heroes, received as Princes? But not a face changed its expression. If German heroes often lack the handsome intoxication, they are, therefore, shielded also against the seductions of fame. Grateful and well trained they quietly refused the words of praise; and surrounded by the roar of applause, they thought only of their bath for today and their return home for tomorrow.

In the great hall Mücke sat in the centre, between the wall and the Commander, then the officers, and around them the forty-four mates, superior mates, sailors, firemen. At one pillar stood the color bearer with his flag. They took dainty coffee cups into their big hands, and told one another that the Turks were very good to them. None of them wishes to extend the feasts that are everywhere being prepared for them. All want to return to Germany; and when I saw them march away, the German men beneath the Arabian sun, I saw fame and achievement like shadows floating over them. I was seized by pity for those who were at the goal, whose great hour was the way to the goal, and they knew it not. Behind the little comfort company there floated three figures--the three German soldiers whose bodies lie mouldering in the desert.

A FIGHT WITH BEDOUINS.

Damascus, May 11.

Concerning his further experiences, Lieut. Capt. von Mücke told this story:

"Two months after our arrival at Hodeida we again put to sea. The time spent in the highlands of Sana passed in lengthy inquiries and discussions that finally resulted in our foregoing the journey by land through Arabia, for religious reasons. But the time was not altogether lost. The men who were sick with malaria had, for the most part, recuperated in the highland air.

"The Turkish Government placed at our disposal two 'sambuks' (sailing ships) of about twenty-five tons, fifteen meters long and four meters wide. But, in fear of English spies, we sailed from Jebaua, ten miles north of Hodeida. That was on March 14. At first we sailed at a considerable distance apart, so that we would not both go to pot if an English gunboat caught us. Therefore, we always had to sail in coastal water. That is full of coral reefs, however."

"The Commander," Lieutenant Gerdts said, "had charge of the first sambuk; I of the second, which was the larger of the two, for we had four sick men aboard. At first everything went nicely for three days. For the most part I could see the sails of the first ship ahead of men. On the third day I received orders to draw nearer and to remain in the vicinity of the first boat, because its pilot was sailing less skillfully than mine. Suddenly, in the twilight, I felt a shock, then another, and still another. The water poured in rapidly. I had run upon the reef of a small island, where the smaller sambuk was able barely to pass because it had a foot less draught than mine. Soon my ship was quite full, listed over, and all of us--twenty-eight men--had to sit on the uptilted edge of the boat. The little island lies at Jesirat Marka, 200 miles north of Jebaua. To be sure, an Arab boat lay near by, but they did not know us. Nobody could help us. If the Commander had not changed the order a few hours before and asked us to sail up closer, we would probably have drowned on this coral reef--certainly would have died of thirst. Moreover, the waters thereabouts are full of sharks, and the evening was so squally that our stranded boat was raised and banged with every wave. We could scarcely move, and the other boat was nowhere in sight. And now it grew dark. At this stage I began to build a raft of spars and old pieces of wood, that might at all events keep us afloat.

"But soon the first boat came into sight again. The commander turned about and sent over his little canoe; in this and in our own canoe, in which two men could sit at each trip, we first transferred the sick. Now the Arabs began to help us. But just then the tropical helmet of our doctor suddenly appeared above the water in which he was standing up to his ears. Thereupon the Arabs withdrew; we were Christians, and they did not know that we were friends. Now the other sambuk was so near that we could have swam to it in half an hour, but the seas were too high. At each trip a good swimmer trailed along, hanging to the painter of the canoe. When it became altogether dark we could not see the boat any more, for over there they were prevented by the wind from keeping any light burning. My men asked 'In what direction shall we swim?' I answered: 'Swim in the direction of this or that star; that must be about the direction of the boat.' Finally a torch flared up over there--one of the torches that were still left from the Emden. But we had suffered considerably through submersion. One sailor cried out: 'Oh, pshaw! it's all up with us now; that's a searchlight.' The man who held out best was Lieutenant Schmidt, who later lost his life. About 10 o'clock we were all safe aboard, but one of our typhus patients, Seaman Keil, wore himself out completely by the exertion; he died a week later. On the next morning we went over again to the wreck in order to seek the weapons that had fallen into the water. You see, the Arabs dive so well; they fetched up a considerable lot--both machine guns, all but ten of the rifles, though these were, to be sure, all full of water. Later they frequently failed to go off when they were used in firing.

"Now we numbered, together with the Arabs, seventy men on the little boat, until evening. Then we anchored before Konfida, and met Sami Bey, who is still with us. He had shown himself useful even before in the service of the Turkish Government, and has done good service as guide in the last two months. He is an active man, thoroughly familiar with the country. He procured for us a larger boat, of fifty-four tons, and he himself, with his wife, sailed alongside on the little sambuk. We sailed from the 20th to the 24th unmolested to Lith. There Sami Bey announced that three English ships were cruising about in order to intercept us. I therefore advised traveling a bit overland. I disliked leaving the sea a second time, but it had to be done."

"Lith is, to be sure, nothing but this," said Mücke, with a sweeping gesture toward the desert through which we were traveling, "and therefore it was very difficult to get up a caravan at once. We remained aboard ship so long. We marched away on the 28th. We had only a vague suspicion that the English might have agents here also. We could travel only at night, and when we slept or camped around a spring, there was only a tent for the sick men. Two days' march from Jeddah, the Turkish Government, as soon as it is received news about us, sent us sixteen good camels.

"Suddenly, on the night of April 1, things became uneasy. I was riding at the head of the column. All our shooting implements were cleared for action, because there was danger of an attack by Bedouins, whom the English here had bribed. When it began to grow a bit light, I already thought: 'We're through for today'; for we were tired--had been riding eighteen hours. Suddenly I saw a line flash up before me, and shots whizzed over our heads. Down from the camels! Form a fighting line! You know how quickly it becomes daylight here. The whole space around the desert hillock was occupied. Now, up with your bayonets! Rush 'em!... They fled, but returned again, this time from all sides. Several of the gendarmes that had been given us as an escort are wounded; the machine gun operator, Rademacher, falls, killed by a shot through his heart; another is wounded; Lieutenant Schmidt, in the rear guard, is mortally wounded--he has received a bullet in his chest and abdomen.

"Suddenly they waved white cloths. The Sheik, to whom a part of our camels belonged, went over to them to negotiate, then Sami Bey and his wife. In the interim we quickly built a sort of wagon barricade, a circular camp of camel saddles, rice and coffee sacks, all of which we filled with sand. We had no shovels, and had to dig with our bayonets, plates, and hands. The whole barricade had a diameter of about fifty meters. Behind it we dug trenches, which we deepened even during the skirmish. The camels inside had to lie down, and thus served very well as cover for the rear of the trenches. Then an inner wall was constructed, behind which we carried the sick men. In the very centre we buried two jars of water, to guard us against thirst. In addition we had ten petroleum cans full of water; all told, a supply for four days. Late in the evening Sami's wife came back from the futile negotiations, alone. She had unveiled for the first and only time on this day of the skirmish, had distributed cartridges, and had conducted herself faultlessly.

"Soon we were able to ascertain the number of the enemy. There were about 300 men; we numbered fifty, with twenty-nine guns. In the night, Lieutenant Schmidt died. We had to dig his grave with our hands and with our bayonets, and to eliminate every trace above it, in order to protect the body. Rademacher had been buried immediately after the skirmish, both of them silently, with all honors.

"The wounded had a hard time of it. We had lost our medicine chest in the wreck; we had only little packages of bandages for skirmishes; but no probing instrument, no scissors were at hand. On the next day our men came up with thick tongues, feverish, and crying 'Water! water!' But each one received only a little cupful three times a day. If our water supply was exhausted, we would have to sally from our camp and fight our way through. Then we should have gone to pot under superior numbers. The Arab gendarmes simply cut the throats of those camels that had been wounded by shots, and then drank the yellow water that was contained in the stomachs. Those fellows can stand anything. At night we always dragged out the dead camels that had served as cover, and had been shot. The hyenas came, hunting for dead camels. I shot one of these, taking it for an enemy in the darkness.

"That continued about three days. On the third day there were new negotiations. Now the Bedouins demanded arms no longer, but only money. This time the negotiations took place across the camp wall. When I declined, the Bedouin said: 'Beaucoup de combat,' (lots of fight.) I replied:

"'Please go to it!'

"We had only a little ammunition left, and very little water. Now it really looked as if we would soon be dispatched. The mood of the men was pretty dismal. Suddenly, at about 10 o'clock in the morning, there bobbed up in the north two riders on camels, waving white cloths. Soon afterward there appeared, coming from the same direction, far back, a long row of camel troops, about a hundred; they draw rapidly near by, ride singing toward us, in a picturesque train. They were the messengers and troops of the Emir of Mecca.

"Sami Bey's wife, it developed, had, in the course of the first negotiations, dispatched an Arab boy to Jeddah. From that place the Governor had telegraphed to the Emir. The latter at once sent camel troops, with his two sons and his personal surgeon; the elder, Abdullah, conducted the negotiations; the surgeon acted as interpreter, in French. Now things proceeded in one-two-three order, and the whole Bedouin band speedily disappeared. From what I learned later, I know definitely that they had been corrupted with bribes by the English. They knew when and where we would pass and they had made all preparations. Now our first act was a rush for water; then we cleared up our camp, but had to harness our camels ourselves, for the camel drivers had fled at the very beginning of the skirmish. More than thirty camels were dead. The saddles did not fit, and my men know how to rig up schooners, but not camels. Much baggage remained lying in the sand for lack of pack animals.

"Then, under the safe protection of Turkish troops, we got to Jeddah. There the authorities and the populace received us very well. From there we proceeded in nineteen days, without mischance, by sailing boat to Elwesh, and under abundant guard with Suleiman Pasha in a five-day caravan journey toward this place, to El Ula, and now we are seated at last in the train and are riding toward Germany--into the war at last!"

"Was not the war you had enough?" I asked.

"Not a bit of it," replied the youngest Lieutenant; "the Emden simply captured ships each time; only a single time, at Penang, was it engaged in battle, and I wasn't present on that occasion. War? No, that is just to begin for us now."

"My task since November," said Mücke, "has been to bring my men as quickly as possible to Germany against the enemy. Now, at last, I can do so."

"And what do you desire for yourself?" I asked.

"For myself," he laughed, and the blue eyes sparkled, "a command in the North Sea."

CAPTAIN MUECKE'S REPORT.

_The impressive scene when the intrepid survivors of the Emden crew ended their long and perilous wanderings over the sea and through the desert, and reported once more to their superior naval officer for duty, is described in a dispatch from Constantinople, published in the Berlinger Tageblatt of May 25. The account, written by Dr. Emil Ludwig, the special correspondent whom the paper had sent to meet the Emden men as they emerged from the desert, and filed under date of May 24, reads:_

Now the Emden men have at last reached Europe. The many feasts which the German colonies and the Turkish authorities insisted on preparing for the heroes on their way through Asia Minor, in Adana, Tarsus, Bosanti, Konia, and Eskishehir, have improved the condition of the crew, half of whom are still suffering from malaria or its consequences. The officers, to be sure, pressed forward. When the train today drew near to Constantinople, the cordiality and enthusiasm waxed to a veritable Whitsuntide fraternizing with the Turks.

The Chief Mayors delivered addresses at every station, or children recited poems amid the Turkish sounds of which only the words "Allaman" (Germans) and "Emden" were intelligible to us. One little child was specially courageous, and recited in German. The flags were wreathed with laurel, and prettily dressed little children brought up to the crew great baskets full of cherries and the first strawberries; but the eyes of the sailors hung more fondly upon beer and tobacco, which they received in large quantities. Even at those stations where the train whizzed past without stopping, Oriental applause floated up to us, and everywhere stood honorary reception committees.

When we at last drew near Haidar-Pasha, the final station of the railroad on the Asiatic side, the railway station seemed to be transformed into a festive hall. Lieut. Capt. von Mücke ordered his men, who had only now transformed themselves again into blue lads, since navy uniforms had been sent to them on the way, to step up, and he led them up to a group of navy officers who, with Admiral Souchon at their head, remained quietly standing.

Then this young "triumphator," who even a moment ago stood amid cheers and a shower of acacia blossoms, bowing and shaking hands on the platform, the man who for fourteen days has been the one man wherever stopped, now steps up in military order to the little Admiral and lowers his sword:

"Beg to report most obediently, Herr Admiral, landing corps of the Emden, 44 men, 4 officers, 1 surgeon."

Admiral Souchon received the announcement just as a daily report. Only then did he press the Lieutenant Captain's hand, bid him welcome, and marched along the front of the company.

No sooner had the column with the Emden flag appeared at the entrance of the station than there burst from 10,000 throats a rousing "Hurrah!" On a torpedo boat that had been waiting for them the crew crossed the Bosporus, in which all ships had decked themselves with flags, and landed on the wide park-like point of the seraglio. There, surrounded by new countless crowds, were the Ministers Enver Pasha and Talaat Bey, the German Ambassador, Freiherr von Wangenheim, and Marshal von der Golz Pasha, the combined navy corps of officers, General Bronsart von Schellendorf, all waiting their arrival.

Amid the strains of the German national anthem, played by the Turkish military band, Lieut. Capt. von Mücke, together with the War Minister, Enver Pasha, paced along the long German and Turkish fronts. Then he led forth his forty-four men and marched, amid new ovations, all through Stamboul, across the great bridge to Galata, to the deck of the steamship General, at the head of his little band, now grown epic, amid the cheers of Byzantium, on which he and his officers had never set foot before--always in the clear blue and sunlight of this war-heavy Whitsuntide day.

But nothing stirred me more deeply on the whole journey than that cold official report of the man who was being celebrated, before his Admiral, and I saw in that lowered swordpoint the symbol of the old and incorruptible Prussian spirit.

Civilization at the Breaking Point

By H.G. Wells.

The submarine and aircraft have put a new proposition before the world. It is a proposition that will be stated here as plainly and simply as possible. These two inventions present mankind with a choice of two alternatives, or, to vary the phrase, they mark quite definitely that we are at the parting of two ways; either mankind must succeed within quite a brief period of years now in establishing a world State, a world Government of some sort able to prevent war, or civilization as we know it must break up into a system of warring communities, perpetually on the warpath, perpetually insecure and engaged in undying national vendettas. These consequences have been latent in all the development of scientific warfare that has been going on during the last century; they are inherent in the characteristics of the aircraft and of the submarine for any one to see.

They are so manifestly inherent that even before this war speculative minds had pointed out the direction to which these inventions pointed, but now, after more than three-quarters of a year of war, it is possible to approach this question, no longer as something as yet fantastically outside the experience of mankind, but as something supported by countless witnesses, something which the dullest, least imaginative minds can receive and ponder.