Now the entire British fleet concentrated its fire upon the Gneisenau. In spite of the loss of the flagship and their admiral, the Germans would not give up; in fact, they seemed determined to rejoin their companions in the world beyond a watery grave. The fire from both German cruisers became fiercer. Shells played a merry tattoo on the armored sides of the Canopus, upon which the two German cruisers were concentrating their fire, but the shells rattled harmlessly off the well-protected sides, and the Canopus was not damaged. Gradually now the British squadron closed in on the Gneisenau and Leipzig, spreading out in a half circle as they advanced. Both German ships had been vitally wounded, but they continued to fight back gamely. Shell after shell burst on their decks, pierced them below the waterline, or carried away their fighting tops or superstructure. Battered almost to pieces, and their decks strewn with dead and dying, they nevertheless fought on. There would be no surrender. This fact was apparent to the British, and they directed their fire so as to end the battle as quickly as possible. The Gneisenau staggered, and seemed about to go under. She recovered her equilibrium in an instant, however, and renewed the battle with even greater vigor than before. Now the two German cruisers, crippled and battered as they were, steamed as rapidly they could right toward the British fleet, making a final effort to inflict a serious blow upon the British before themselves going to the bottom. Closer and closer they came, their guns hurling shells at all the British vessels without favor. A shell struck squarely upon the bridge of the Canopus, killing an officer; and the splintering wood that flew about accounted for two more, making the British death list now eight. And still the German cruisers came on; and then the Gneisenau wavered, halted and staggered back. A shell had pierced through to her boilers. There was an explosion, followed by a great hissing sound. Without steam the Gneisenau could steam neither forward nor backward. Stationary, rising and falling on the swell of the waves, she continued to pour in her fire, even as the Leipzig continued on alone. A British shell struck the Leipzig's steering gear, rendering it useless, and the German cruiser staggered about at the mercy of the sea. Still the gunners continued to hurl shells at the British whenever the guns could be brought to bear. But this was not often, for the fact that she could not be steered properly rendered the work of the British much easier. Admiral Sturdee, greatly impressed with the bravery of the Germans, decided to give them one more chance for life. He ordered a cessation of firing and called upon the two cruisers to surrender. The merciful offer was met with a cry of defiance, and a shell burst over the admiral's flagship, dropping half a score of men, two of whom never arose.