The Cadets' Escape: 126 Days Against the Ocean and War

Enhanced image of the Tinto barque

During my research on the Herzogin Cecilie, there was one incident that, when pieced together, seems more like something out of a novel than a true story. But it happened. And it’s documented.

The Turning Point

The German cadets, who had been held aboard the Herzogin Cecilie in Chile since the start of the WW1, had now been away from their homeland for nearly two years. From afar, they followed the war through the local press. They knew of the German victory at the Battle of Coronel. They also learned of the fate of the SMS Dresden at Juan Fernández.

The war was unfolding very close to them. But they could not participate. They lived in a kind of limbo: witnesses to the events, but with no clear future in sight.

And then they made a decision that would change everything: to wait no longer.

The Plot

The plan began far from the sea. A group of 16 young cadets—aged 16 to 20—set out on a land escape, traveling secretly by train from Coquimbo to Osorno, evading checkpoints and arousing no suspicion. British surveillance of the German ships detained in Chile was constant and intense.

It was not an impromptu escape. It was a carefully planned operation. It had the silent support of members of the German colony in Chile, who facilitated coordination, cover-ups, and logistics.

It would be a high-risk escape operation at every stage.

The objective was clear: to reach the far south and reunite with other German sailors who had also managed to escape:

• 4 from the SMS Dresden, who had escaped from Quiriquina Island

• 4 from the steamship Göttingen, from Valparaíso

• In total, there would be 24 men

They had also secured something essential: a ship to escape on.

The Ship

In Calbuco, they found what they needed: an old two-masted vessel, dilapidated but still seaworthy—the Tinto. It wasn’t an ideal ship. It wasn’t fast, nor was it in top condition. But it floated, and it was anchored at the entrance to the Gulf of Ancud, a direct route for sailing deep into southern Chile.

And at that moment, that was all that mattered.

The Departure

In the midst of World War I, the seas were under close surveillance. British control over shipping routes and movements was strict. The departure operation was, in itself, extraordinary. Members of the German colony staged a coastal voyage to northern Chile aboard the Tinto. But as night fell, the ship turned south. At the same time, the real crew on the run boarded a small Chilean artisanal fishing boat—invisible to British surveillance.

Days later, they managed to meet on a small island, Mechuque. There, in silence, the handover took place: men, water, provisions… and control of the ship.

At the helm was a captain just 29 years old: Carl Richardz.

Nautical chart of the Las Guaitecas Archipelago, start of the voyage

The Journey

The Tinto ventured into the labyrinth of channels in the Chilean Patagonia. A territory of islands, fjords, and routes invisible on the nautical charts of the time. They sailed at night and hid during the day. They avoided all contact. Local fishermen—many of them indigenous—showed them safe passages, routes that did not exist on any nautical chart.

During those first weeks, they repaired the ship, adjusted its rigging, and transformed its appearance. The Tinto ceased to exist. Now it was a Norwegian whaler. New name: Eva. Under that identity, they crossed the Beagle Channel, rounded Cape Horn, and reached the Islands of the States.

From there, they headed into the Atlantic. More than once they were intercepted. More than once they were inspected. And more than once, they managed to deceive the British.

What they achieved was epic:

• 126 days of sailing

• 10,700 nautical miles (19,816 km)

• 24 men on board

• Avoiding patrolled routes

• Facing extreme weather and storms in the Southern Ocean

• With limited resources

• Constant surveillance during wartime

And, despite it all: zero human casualties. Without firing a single shot. After more than four months at sea, they reached their destination: Trondheim, Norway. They had sailed across the globe, in the midst of war and while being pursued, on a journey that was much more than an escape: it was an extraordinary display of discipline, seafaring skill, leadership, and determination, and one of the boldest—and least known—episodes of World War I.

This tale is part of a larger story that I pieced together using documents, records, and, in part, by personally navigating some of these channels in southern Chile.

A story where reality far surpasses fiction.

👉 Discover the full story in my book: https://www.carlosmarsh.com/en/ebooks