10
In the shadow of the ancient Polynesians, the Germans made their way across the Pacific: Eniwetok, Fanning Island, Samoa, Bora Bora, Tahiti.
They took coal where they could, feeding the ships’ bunkers at anchor beneath the blazing sun. At night, they lived in the pitch black of their cruisers—a single lantern could reveal them to a passing boat. Without activity or diversion, they were left only to thoughts of those who pursued them.
The ships of the British and French navies far outnumbered theirs; and the Allies had endless secure harbors for provisioning. With Japan now in the war, the odds against them became impossible.
At the Admiralty in Berlin, hope for von Spee’s survival was waning. Kaiser Wilhelm, his sympathy ignited for this lonely commander, tried to send words of encouragement: “God be with you in the impending stern struggle.” But von Spee, beyond range of the radio transmitter at Tsingtao, never received the message. He was operating in solitude, without the means to contact his country, his supply ships, or the other German warships in his squadron.
He needed to find a rendezvous point, a spot in the Pacific where he could try to bring the squadron together. He would have to break radio silence for this, risk the interception of the message in the hope of uniting his forces. But it was necessary.
The only question was where. Studying the map, searching for a safe harbor, he soon found the perfect place, a place he had once read about, where Captain Cook had voyaged, where strange giant statues lined the shore. A place that was the farthest one could get from the rest of the world: Easter Island.
—Fleet of Misfortune: Graf von Spee and the Impossible Journey Home