little torpedo boat Mosquet trying to get beyond the range of the
Emden's guns while the shells were throwing up water all around her.
The chase had kept on for twenty minutes, I should say, when we saw
the little craft sink by the bow. The Emden lowered boats to pick up
any possible survivors, but, from the short time they were down, I
imagine most of the crew were lost.

"I have tried to give you some little idea in the foregoing of the
frightful encounter I have witnessed. It seemed like a nightmare
afterward, although while it was actually going on you felt as if you
were looking at a sham battle. Even when the bullets started in to
rattle on the iron-covered sheds above our heads there was nothing
terrifying about it. After the effect of the first few shots had worn
off I felt as if I were watching a play. That quiet, staid Penang with
her shaded streets and sampan covered harbor should be the scene of a
naval engagement such as I witnessed today is almost unbelievable. Yet
the sordid aftereffects are before our eyes.

"Only the masterly manoeuvring of that gentleman of the German
fleet--the Captain of the Emden--prevented the city from being the
scene of a terrible carnage. His refusal to sink unarmed vessels while
the crews were on board, his refraining from bombarding the town, his
stopping to pick up the crew of the Mosquet, although every minute was
valuable to him, at once made him 'that gentleman, the Captain of the
Emden.' On all sides you heard 'I hope they sink the Emden, but it
will be a shame if any of her crew are lost.'

"While steaming away from Penang he met the tramp Glen. Instead of
capturing her, he sent her into Penang with the message: 'I tried not
to hit the town. If I did so, I am very sorry, indeed.' Well, he
'played the game,' and he has made me, for one, feel extremely
doubtful whether the much-talked-of German 'atrocities' are true,
except where the exigencies of war have made them unavoidable."

Here you have the story of an engagement which will go down in history
as a demonstration that, even under the conditions of modern naval
warfare, it is possible for two ships of almost equal armament to
fight by daylight at almost point-blank range without resulting in the
disabling of both. A sight similar to that witnessed yesterday would
be considered by most naval critics as impossible, or, rather,
suicidal.

The sad, or, rather, disgraceful, part of the story has yet to be
told. It