these, taking it for an enemy in the dark

ness.

"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.

Now

"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. 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 sadIdles 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 to sailing boat under Elwesh, and 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 "has been to bring my men as Mücke, 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 BerThe ac linger Tageblatt of May 25.

count, 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 en

thusiasm 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 HaidarPasha, 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.

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.

66

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 parklike 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.

new

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 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.

772

T

HE 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 receive and ponder.

can

What the submarine and aircraft make manifest and convincing is this point, which argument alone has never been able to hammer into the mass of inattentive minds, that if the human intelligence is applied continuously to the mechanism of war it will steadily develop destructive powers, but that it will fail to develop any corresponding power of decision and settlement, because the development of the former is easy and obvious in comparison with the development

of the latter; it will therefore progressively make war more catastrophic and less definitive. It will not make war impossible in the ordinary meaning of the word, the bigger the gun and the viler the lethal implement the more possible does war become, but it will make war "impossible" in the slang use of five or six years ago, in the sense, that is, of its being utterly useless and mischievous, the sense in which Norman Angell employed it and so brought upon himself an avalanche of quite unfair derision. No nation ever embarked upon so fair a prospect of conquest and dominion as the victorious Germans when, after 1871, they decided to continue to give themselves to the development of overwhelming military power. And after exertions unparalleled in the whole history of mankind their net conquests are nothing; they have destroyed enormously and achieved no other single thing, and today they repeat on a colossal scale the adventures of Fort Chabrol and Sidney Street, and are no better than a nation of murderous outcasts besieged by an outraged world.

Now, among many delusions that this war has usefully dispelled is the delusion that there can be a sort of legality about war, that you can make war a little, but not make war altogether, that the civilized world can look forward to a sort of tame war in the future, a war crossed with peace, a lap-dog war that will bark but not bite. War is war; it is the cessation of law and argument, it is outrage, and Germany has demonstrated on the large scale what our British suffragettes learned on a small one, that with every failure to accomplish your end by violent means you are forced to further outrages. Violence has no reserves but further violence. Each failure of the violent is met by the desperate cry, the heroical scream: "We will not be beaten.