flagstaff [Transcriber: original 'fliagstaff'] and fluttered out in the
southeast trade wind above the tall palms of Upolo.

There was a sharp order from the officer commanding the expedition, and
the troops came to the royal salute. The national anthem--never more
fervently sung--and three rousing cheers for King George followed.

Then came the reading of the proclamation by Col. Logan, the troops
formed up again, and, to the music of the, band of the Fifth Regiment,
marched back to quarters.

*How the Cressy Sank*

*By Edgar Rowan of The London Daily Chronicle.*

MUIDEN, Holland, Sept. 23.--(Dispatch to The London Daily
Chronicle.)--When the history of this war comes to be written we shall
put no black borders, as men without pride or hope, around the story of
the loss of the cruisers Aboukir, Cressy, and Hogue. We shall write it
in letters of gold, for the plain, unvarnished tale of those last
moments, when the cruisers went down, helpless before a hidden foe,
ranks among the countless deeds of quiet, unseen, unconscious heroism
that make up the navy's splendid pages.

It is easy to learn all that happened, for the officers want chiefly to
tell how splendidly brave the men were, and the men pay a like tribute
to the officers. The following appears to be a main outline of the
disaster:

The three cruisers had for some time been patrolling the North Sea. Soon
after 6 o'clock Tuesday morning--there is disagreement as to the exact
time--the Aboukir suddenly felt a shock on the port side. A dull
explosion was heard and a column of water was thrown up mast high. The
explosion wrecked the stokehole just forward of amidship and, judging by
the speed with which the cruiser sank, tore the bottom open.

Almost immediately the doomed cruiser began to settle. Except for the
watch on deck, most of her crew, were asleep, wearied by constant vigil
in bad weather, but in perfect order officers and men rushed to
quarters. Quickfirers were manned in the hope of a dying shot at a
submarine, but there was not a glimpse of one. Of the few boats carried
when cleared for action, two were smashed in recent gales and another
was wrecked by the explosion.

The Aboukir's sister cruisers, each more than a mile away, saw and heard
the explosion. They thought the Aboukir had been struck by a mine. They
closed in and lowered boats. This sealed their own fate, for while they
were standing by to rescue survivors, first the Hogue and