uet seemed to be hit by three shells
simultaneously and sank very rapidly. The German had got a second
victim.

It was here that the chivalrous bravery of the Emden's Captain, which
has been many times in evidence throughout her meteoric career, was
again shown. If the French boats were coming out, every moment was of
priceless value to him. Nevertheless, utterly disregarding this, he
stopped, lowered boats, and picked up the survivors from the Mosquet
before steaming on his way.

The English here now say of him, admiringly, "He played the game."

Meantime, boats of all descriptions had started toward the place where
the Russian cruiser had last been seen. The water was covered with
debris of all sorts, to which the survivors were clinging. They
presented a horrible sight when they were landed on Victoria Pier,
which the ambulance corps of the Sikh garrison turned into a temporary
hospital. Almost all of them had wounds of one sort or another. Many
were covered with them. Their blood-stained and, for the most part,
naked bodies were enough to send shivers through even the most
cold-blooded person. It was a sight I shall not forget for many a day.
Out of a crew of 334 men 142 were picked up wounded. Only 94 were
found practically untouched. Ninety-eight were "missing." It is not
yet known how many of the crew of the 78 of the Mosquet were rescued
by the Emden.

So much of the story I am able to write from personal observation and
investigation. Here, however, is an account of what occurred from an
officer who saw it all from closer range and more intimate conditions,
for he was on the French torpedo boat destroyer Pistolet. I tell his
story exactly as he told it to me:

"The Captain of the Pistolet had invited Capt. T. and myself to have a
game of bridge whist on board. His ship was lying alongside the
Government wharf, just inside the inner harbor. The game proved a most
interesting one and time flew by unnoticed. Finally, just before 1
A.M., it came to a close, but, owing to the fact that our going home
at that hour of the morning would mean a rikisha ride of over two
miles, the Captain stretched a point and invited us to remain on
board, which we did. Little did we know what our decision was to mean
to us.

"At 5:25 the next morning, just as day was breaking, I was awakened by
a deafening crash, followed by two others in rapid succession. Without
waiting for more, I pulled my ducks over my pajamas and hurried