_Chapter X_
ADMIRAL PERRY'S FATE
The wireless apparatus on board Admiral Perry's flag-ship, the_Connecticut_, rattled and crackled and on the strip of white paperslowly ejected by the Morse machine appeared the words: "Magdalen Bay toCommander-in-chief of Squadron, May 7, 8h. 25. A cruiser and twotorpedo-boats sighted four miles N.W. with course set towards MagdalenBay; uncertain whether friend or foe. Captain Pancoast."
The man at the instrument tore off the duplicate of the strip and pastedit on the bulletin, touched the button of an electric bell and handedthe message to the signalman who answered the ring. The telephone bellrang directly afterwards and from the bridge came the order: "MagdalenBay to establish immediate connection by wireless with cruiser andtorpedoes; ascertain whether they belong to blue or yellow party."
The officer ticked off the message at great speed.
"This looks like bad weather," he said to himself, while waiting for theanswer. The increased rocking of the ship showed that the sea wasgetting rougher. A black pencil, which had been lying in the cornerbetween the wall and the edge of the table, suddenly came to life andbegan rolling aimlessly about. The officer picked it up and drew a mapof the location of Magdalen Bay as far as he could remember it. "Fourmiles," he murmured, "they ought to be able to identify the ships atthat distance with the aid of a glass."
Suddenly the instrument began to buzz and rattle and amidst a dischargeof little electric sparks the strip of white paper began to move outslowly from beneath the letter roller.
"Magdalen Bay to Commander-in-chief of Squadron, May 7, 8 h. 53: Approaching cruiser, probably yellow armored cruiser _New York_; does not answer call. Captain Pancoast."
The officer hadn't had time to get the message ready for the bridge,when the instrument again began to rattle madly:
"Take care of Kxj31mpTwB8d--951SR7--J," warned the strip in its mutelanguage; then nothing further; complete silence reigned. "What doesthis mean?" said the officer, "this can't be all."
He knocked on the coherer, then put in a new one: not a sign. He took athird, a fourth, he knocked and shook the instrument, but it remaineddumb. With his Morse-key he asked back:
"Magdalen Bay, repeat message!"
No answer.
Then he asked: "Did you understand question?"
No answer.
The signalman was standing beside him, and he handed him the messagewith the order to take it at once to the bridge; then he went to thetelephone and took off the receiver. "This is Sergeant Medlow. I've justreceived from Magdalen Bay the message now on the way to the bridge:'Take care of--' then the connection was cut off.... All right, sir."
Two minutes later an excited lieutenant rushed in crying: "What's thematter with the apparatus?"
"It won't work, sir; it stopped in the middle of a sentence."
"Take a new coherer!"
"I've tried four."
They both tapped the coherer, but nothing happened. All questionsremained unanswered, and they seemed to be telegraphing into space.
"Probably a breakdown," said the lieutenant naively.
"Yes, sir, probably a breakdown," repeated Medlow; and then he was aloneonce more.
* * * * *
The officer on duty on the bridge of the _Connecticut_ had informedCaptain Farlow, commander of the ship, of the latest messages fromMagdalen Bay, and when he now appeared on the bridge in company withAdmiral Perry, the officer held out the two bulletins. The admiralstudied them thoughtfully and murmured: "_New York_, it's true shebelongs to the yellow fleet, but what brings her to Magdalen Bay?Admiral Crane cannot possibly be so far to the southeast with hissquadron, for the latest news from our outposts led us to believe thathe intended to attack us from the west."
"But he may be going to surprise Magdalen Bay, Admiral," said CaptainFarlow.
"Perhaps," replied the Admiral, rather sharply, "but will you tell mewhat for? There are only two torpedo-boats at Magdalen Bay, and todestroy a wireless station from which there are no messages to be sentwould be a rather silly thing for an overzealous commander of the yellowfleet to do. And besides we have special orders from Washington to drawMagdalen Bay as little as possible into the maneuvers, so as to avoidall unpleasantness with Mexico and not to attract the attention offoreigners to the importance which the bay would assume in case of war."
A lieutenant stepped up to Captain Farlow and reported, saluting: "Allattempts to establish connection with Magdalen Bay have failed."
"Well, let it go," grumbled Admiral Perry, "Crane seems to have deprivedus of Magdalen Bay, but the commander of the _New York_ will reap a finereprimand from Washington for this."
With these words Admiral Perry left the bridge, steadying himself byholding on to the railing on both sides of the steps, as the sea wasbecoming rougher every minute.
The increasing northeast wind tore through the rigging, whistled in thewires, howled through all the openings, screamed its bad temper down thecompanionways, pulled savagely at the gun-covers and caused the longcopper-wires belonging to the wireless apparatus to snap like hugewhips. The bluish-gray waves broke with a hollow sound against the sidesof the six battleships of the _Connecticut_ class, which were runningabreast in a northwesterly direction through the dreary watery wastes ofthe Pacific at the rate of ten knots an hour.
There was a high sea on. A barometric depression that was quite unusualin these sunny latitudes at that particular time of year had broughtnasty weather in its train. During the night violent rain-storms hadflooded the decks. Now the wind freshened and swept low-hanging cloudsbefore it. The sharp white bow of the _Connecticut_ with the pressure of16,000 tons of steel behind it plowed its way through the water,throwing up a hissing foaming wave on each side. The wind lashed thewaves on the starboard-side so that they splashed over the forepart ofthe cruiser like a shower of rain, enveloping it in a gray mist. Thethick, black smoke pouring out of the three long funnels was blownobliquely down to the edge of the water and hung there like a thickcloud which shut off the western horizon and made the passage of thesquadron visible a long distance off. The small openings in thecasemates of the armored guns had been closed up long before, becausethe waves had begun to wash over them, and even the turrets on the upperdeck had received a few heavy showers which had flooded their interiors.It was indeed nasty weather.
Captain Farlow had taken up his stand on the upper conning-tower of the_Connecticut_ the better to examine the horizon with his glass, but athick curtain of rain rendered it almost invisible.
"Nothing to be seen of our cruisers," he said to the navigating officerof the squadron, "this is disgusting weather for maneuvers."
Then he gave the command to telephone across to the two leading cruisers_California_ and _Colorado_ and ask if, on account of the thick weather,they required the assistance of two small cruisers in order to besufficiently protected against the yellow fleet?
The commander of the _California_ answered in the affirmative and askedthat the three destroyers in the van, which had all they could do tomaintain their course in such a heavy sea, and were therefore of littleuse in their present position, be recalled and replaced by two cruisers.
The admiral recalled the three destroyers by a wireless signal andordered them to take up their position in the rear beside the otherthree destroyers and to assist in protecting the rear of the squadron.At the same time he strengthened his front line by sending the cruisers_Galveston_ and _Chattanooga_, which had formed the port and starboardflank, respectively, to the van. His advance, consisting now of the twolast-named cruisers and the two armored cruisers, proceeded in a flatwedge formation, while the cruiser _Denver_ to starboard and the_Cleveland_ to port, at a distance of three knots from the squadron,established the connection between the van and the rather dubiousrear-guard of destroyers, which could scarcely do much in such weather.
The _Galveston_ and _Chattanooga_, both pouring forth clouds of smoke,quickly assumed their positions
at the head of the line.
Captain Farlow paced restlessly up and down the bridge in his oilskins."I suppose this is the last remnant of the spring storms," he said tohis navigating officer, "but it's a good-sized one. If we didn't have afairly good formation the yellow fleet could play us a nasty trick bytaking us by surprise in such weather."
"A wireless message from the cruiser _California_," said a lieutenant,handing it to the captain, who read:
"_Chattanooga_ and _Galveston_ stationed on right and left flanks ofadvance guard; _Denver_ and _Cleveland_ establish connection betweenlatter and squadron. No sign of yellow fleet."
Just then an orderly appeared and requested Captain Farlow to report toAdmiral Perry.
The squadron continued on its way. The northeast wind increased, drivingblack scurrying clouds before it which swept across the foaming wavesand suddenly enveloped everything in glimmering darkness. The rainpoured down on the decks in sheets and everything was swimming in asplashing flood. What with the downpour of the rain and the splashing ofthe waves, it was often impossible for the lookouts to see a yard ahead.Added to all this was a disagreeable sticky, humid heat. It was surelymore comfortable below deck.
* * * * *
"What do you think of this Magdalen Bay affair?" asked the admiral ofthe captain as the latter entered the admiral's cabin; "it is worryingme considerably."
"In my opinion," was the answer, "it's a piece of crass stupidity onthe part of the commander of the _New York_. It is all nonsense to playsuch tricks with a country where we are not particularly welcome guestsat any time, in spite of all the diplomatic courtesies of Porfirio Diaz.The gentlemen over in Tokio have every movement of ours in the baywatched by their many spies, and their diplomatic protests are alwaysready."
"Certainly," said the admiral, "certainly, but our maneuvers aresupposed to reflect actual war, and--between ourselves--there's no doubtbut that we should treat Magdalen Bay in time of war just as though itwere American soil."
"In time of war, yes," answered the captain eagerly, "but it's foolishto show our hand in a maneuver, in time of peace. Even if we do act asthough Magdalen Bay belonged to us, whereas in reality we have only beenpermitted to use it as a coaling-station and had no right to erect awireless station as we did, it is nevertheless inexcusable to use thatparticular spot for maneuver operations. If it once becomes known inMexico, the diplomats there, who are always dying of ennui, will maketrouble at once, and as we don't suffer from a surplus of good friendsat any time, we ought to avoid every opportunity of giving them adiplomatic lever through maneuver blunders."
"Then the best plan," said the admiral in a thoughtful tone, "would beto report the circumstances to Washington at once, and suggest to themthat it would be advisable to represent the attack on Magdalen Bay asthe result of too much zeal on the part of a poorly posted commander andto apologize to Mexico for the mistake."
"That would certainly be the correct thing to do," answered Farlow,adding, "for when we do have our reckoning with the yellow...."
Here the telephone bell in the cabin rang madly and Captain Farlowjumped up to answer it; but in his excitement he had forgotten all aboutthe rolling of the ship, and consequently stumbled and slipped along thefloor to the telephone. The admiral could not help smiling, but at oncetransformed the smile into a frown when the door opened to admit anorderly, who was thus also a witness of Captain Farlow's sliding party.The latter picked himself up with a muttered oath and went to thetelephone.
"What," he shouted, "what's that, Higgins? You must be crazy, man!Admiral Crane's fleet, the yellow fleet? It's impossible, we've got ourscouts out on all sides!"
Then he turned halfway round to the admiral, saying: "The navigator isseeing ghosts, sir; he reports that Admiral Crane with the yellow fleethas been sighted to windward three knots off!" He hurried towards thedoor and there ran plumb against the orderly, whom he asked sharply:"What are you doing here?"
"The navigator, Lieutenant Higgins, reports that several ships have beensighted to starboard three miles ahead. Lieutenant Higgins thinks...."
"Lieutenant Higgins thinks, of course, that it is Admiral Crane's yellowfleet," snarled Farlow.
"Yes, sir," answered the orderly, "the yellow fleet," and stared inastonishment at the commander of the _Connecticut_, who, followed byAdmiral Perry, rushed up the stairs.
"Oh, my oilskins!..." With this exclamation the commander reached thetop of the staircase leading to the bridge deck, where a violent rush ofgreenish-gray water from a particularly enormous wave drenched him fromhead to foot.
"Now, then, Mr. Higgins," he called, wiping the water from his eyes andmustache, "where is the yellow fleet?"
The navigator was staring out to sea through his glass trying topenetrate the thick veil of rain. The storm howled and showers of foamburst over the decks of the _Connecticut_, the water washing overeverything with a dull roar.
Captain Farlow had no need to inquire further. That was Admiral Craneand his yellow fleet sure enough!
The silhouettes of six large battleships looking like phantom-shipsrising from the depths of the boiling ocean could be plainly seenthrough the rain and waves about six thousand yards to starboard of the_Connecticut_.
"Clear ships for action!" commanded the captain. The navigator andanother lieutenant hurried to the telephones and transmitted the order.The flag lieutenant of the squadron rushed to the telephone leading tothe wireless room, and ordered a message forwarded to all of the shipsof the squadron to proceed at full speed. For safety's sake the orderwas repeated by means of flag signals.
While from the bridge the officers were watching the gray phantoms ofthe strange armored fleet, it continued calmly on its course. Theleading ship threw up great masses of foam like huge explodingfountains, which covered the bow with showers of gray water.
In a few minutes things began to get lively within the steel body of the_Connecticut_. The sounds of shrill bugle-calls, of the loud ringing ofbells, of excited calls and a hurried running to and fro, came up frombelow.
In the midst of the water pouring over the deck appeared the sailors intheir white uniforms. They at once removed the gun-coverings, whilepeculiarly shrill commands resounded above the roar of the wind and thewaves.
Great quantities of thick, black smoke poured from the yellowish brownfunnels, to be immediately seized and broken up by the wind. The reservesignalmen for duty on the bridge as well as the fire-control detail tookup their positions.
One lieutenant climbed hastily up into the military top of the foremast.Two other officers and a few midshipmen followed him as far as theplatform above the conning-tower, where the instruments connected withthe fire-control were kept. Orderlies came and went with messages. Allthis was the work of a few minutes. Captain Farlow was inwardlydelighted that everything should have gone off so well before theadmiral. Now the other ships reported that they were clear for action.Just as the bright ensigns were being run to the mastheads, the sunbroke through the black clouds for a moment. The six monster shipscontinued on their way in the sunlight like sliding masses of whiteiron, with their long yellowish brown funnels emitting clouds of smokeand their rigid masts pointing upward into the angry sky. The sunshinemade the deck structures sparkle with thousands of glistening drops fora brief moment; then the sun disappeared and the majestic picture wasswallowed up once more by the gray clouds.
"Shall we go up to the conning-tower?" inquired the flag lieutenant ofthe admiral.
"Oh, no, we'll stay here," said the latter, carefully examining theyellow fleet through his glass. "Can you make out which ship the firstone is?" he asked.
"I think it's the _Iowa_," said the commander, who was standing nearhim. But the wind tore the words from his lips.
"What did you say?" screamed back the admiral.
"_Iowa_," repeated Farlow.
"No such thing, the _Iowa_ is much smaller and has only one mast. Theship over there also has an additional turret in the center
."
"No, it's not the _Iowa_," corroborated the captain, "but two funnels... what ship can it be...?"
"Those ships are painted gray, too, not white like ours. It's not theyellow fleet at all," interrupted the admiral, "it's, it's--my God, whatis it?"
He examined the ships again and saw numerous little flags running up themast of the leading ship, undoubtedly a signal, then the forward turretwith its two enormously long gun-barrels swung slowly over to starboard,the other turrets turned at the same time, and then a tongue of flameshot out of the mouths of both barrels in the forward turret; the windquickly dispersed the cloud of smoke, and three seconds later a shellburst with a fearful noise on the deck of the _Connecticut_ between thebase of the bridge and the first gun-turret, throwing the splintersright on the bridge and tearing off the head of the lieutenant who wasdoing duty at the signal apparatus. The second shell hit the armoredplate right above the openings for the two 12-inch guns in thefore-turret, leaving behind a great hole with jagged edges out of whichburst sheets of flame and clouds of smoke, which were blown away in longstrips by the wind. A heartrending scream from within followed thisexplosion of the cartridges lying in readiness beside the guns. Theforward turret had been put out of action.
For several seconds everyone on the bridge seemed dazed, while thoughtsraced through their heads with lightning-like rapidity.
Could it be chance...? Impossible, for in the same moment that the twoshots were fired by the leading ship, the whole fleet opened fire onAdmiral Perry's squadron with shells of all calibers. The admiralseized Farlow's arm and shook it to and fro in a blind rage.
"Those," he cried, "those ... why, man, those are the Japanese! That'sthe enemy and he has surprised us right in the midst of peace! Now Godgive me a clear head, and let us never forget that we are American men!"He scarcely heard the words of the flag lieutenant who called out tohim: "That's the Japanese _Satsuma_, Togo's _Satsuma_!"
The admiral reached the telephone-board in one bound and yelled down theartillery connection: "Hostile attack!... Japanese. We've beensurprised!"
And it was indeed high time, for scarcely had the admiral reached theconning-tower, stumbling over the dead body of a signalman on the way,when a hail-storm of bullets swept the bridge, killing all who were onit.
As there was no other officer near, Captain Farlow went to the signalinginstrument himself to send the admiral's orders to those below deck.
The _Connecticut_, which had been without a helmsman for a momentbecause the man at the helm had been killed by a bursting shell that hadliterally forced his body between the spokes of the wheel, was swayingabout like a drunken person owing to the heavy blows of the enemy'sshells. Now she recovered her course and the commander issued his ordersfrom the bridge in a calm and decisive voice.
We have seen what a paralyzing effect the opening of fire from theJapanese ships had had on the commander and officers of the_Connecticut_ on the bridge, and the reader can imagine the effect itmust have had on the crew--they were dumfounded with terror. Thecrashing of the heavy steel projectiles above deck, the explosion in theforeward gun-turret, and several shots which had passed through theunarmored starboard side of the forepart of the ship in rapidsuccession--they were explosive shells which created fearful havoc andfilled all the rooms with the poisonous gases of the Shimose-powder--allthis, added to the continual ring of the alarm-signals, had completelyrobbed the crew below deck of their senses and of all deliberation.
At first it was thought to be an accident, and without waiting fororders from above, the fire-extinguishing apparatus was got ready. Butthe bells continued to ring on all sides, and the crashing blows thatshook the ship continually became worse and worse. On top of this camethe perfectly incomprehensible news that, unprepared as they were, theywere confronted by the enemy, by a Japanese fleet.
All this happened with lightning-like rapidity--so quickly, indeed, thatit was more than human nerves could grasp and at the same time remaincalm and collected. The reverberations of the bursting shells and thedull rumbling crashes against the armored sides of the casemates andturrets produced an infernal noise which completely drowned the humanvoice. Frightful horror was depicted on all faces. It took some time torally from the oppressive, heartrending sensation caused by theknowledge that a peaceful maneuver voyage had suddenly been transformedinto the bloody seriousness of war. It is easy enough to turn a machinefrom right to left in a few seconds with the aid of a lever, but not soa human being.
The men, to be sure, heard the commands and after a few moments'reflection, grasped the terrible truth, but their limbs failed them. Ithad all come about too quickly, and it was simply impossible to getcontrol of the situation and translate commands into deeds as quickly asthe hostile shots demolished things above deck. Many of the crew stoodaround as though they were rooted to the spot, staring straight in frontof them. Some laughed or cried, others did absolutely senseless things,such as turning the valves of the hot-air pipes or carrying uselessthings from one place to another, until the energetic efforts of theofficers brought them to their senses.
Someone called for the keys of the ammunition chambers, and then began asearch for the ordnance officer in the passages filled with thepoisonous fumes of the Shimose-powder. But it was all in vain, for helay on the front bridge torn into an unrecognizable mass by the enemy'sshells.
At last a young lieutenant with the blood pouring down his cheek inbright red streaks, rushed into the captain's cabin, broke open thecloset beside the desk with a bayonet and seized the keys of theammunition rooms. Now down the stairs and through the narrow openings inthe bulkheads, where the thud of the hostile projectiles sounds more andmore hollow, and here, at last, is the door of the shell-chambercontaining the shells for the 8-inch guns in the forward starboardturret.
Inside the bells rang and rattled, calling in vain for ammunition; butthe guns of the _Connecticut_ still remained silent.
The petty officer, hurrying on before his three men, now stood at thetelephone.
"Armor-piercing shells, quickly!" came the urgent order from above. Andwhen the electric lever refused to work, the two sailors raised theshell weighing over two hundredweight in their brawny arms and shoved itinto the frame of the lift, which began to move automatically.
"Thank God," said the lieutenant in command of the turret, as the firstshell appeared at the mouth of the dark tube. Into the breech with itand the two cartridges after it. When the lieutenant had taken hisposition at the telescope sight in order to determine the direction anddistance for firing, orders came down from the commander to fire at theenemy's leading ship, the _Satsuma_. The distance was only 2800 yards,so near had the enemy come. And at this ridiculously short distance,contrary to all the rules of naval warfare, the Americans opened fire.
"2800 yards, to the right beneath the first gun-turret of the_Satsuma_," called the lieutenant to the two gunners. They took theelevation and then waited for the ship that was rolling to port toregain the level after being lifted up by the waves. Detached cloudshurried across the field of the telescope, but suddenly the sun appearedlike a bright spot above the horizon and dark brown smoke becamevisible. The foremast of the _Satsuma_ with its multicoloredsignal-flags appeared in the field of vision.... A final quickcorrection for elevation ... a slight pressure of the electric trigger.Fire! The gray silhouette of the _Satsuma_, across which quivered theflash from the gun, rose quickly in the round field; then came foaming,plunging waves, and columns of water that rose up as the shells struckthe water.
The loud reverberation of the shot--the first one fired on the Americanside--acted as a nerve-tonic all round, and all felt as though they hadbeen relieved from an intolerable burden.
While the right gun was being reloaded and the stinking gases escapingfrom the gun filled the narrow chamber with their fumes, the lieutenantlooked for traces of the effect of the shot. The wind whistled throughthe peep-hole and made his eyes smart. The shot did not seem to havetouched the _Satsuma_ at all. The foa
m seen in the bow was that producedby the ship's motion.
"Two hundred and fifty yards over," came through the telephone, and onthe glass-plate of the distance-register, faintly illuminated by anelectric lamp, appeared the number 2550.
"2550 yards!" repeated the lieutenant to the captain of the left gun,giving the angle of direction himself. The _Connecticut_ again heavedover to port, and the thunder of cannon rolled over the waves of thePacific.
"The shell burst at a thousand yards!" called the lieutenant. "Whatmiserable fuses!"
"Bad shot," came down reproachfully through the telephone, "usepercussion fuses."
"I am, but they're no good, they won't work," roared back thelieutenant. Then he went down into the turret and examined the new shellon the lift before it was pushed into the breech.
"All right," he said aloud, but added under his breath, suppressing anoath: "We mustn't let the men notice there's anything wrong, for theworld!"
Another shot rang out, and again the shell burst a few hundred yardsfrom the _Connecticut_, sending the water flying in every direction.
Again came the reproachful voice from above: "Bad shot, take percussionfuses!"
"That's what these are supposed to be," replied the lieutenant in aterrible state of excitement; "the shells are absolutely useless."
"Fire at the forepart of the _Satsuma_ with shrapnel," rang out thecommand from the wall.
"Shrapnels from below!" ordered the lieutenant, and "shrapnels frombelow" was repeated by the man at the lift into the 'phone leading tothe ammunition chamber.
But the lift continued to bring up the blue armor-piercing shells; fivetimes more and then it stopped.
During a momentary pause in the firing on both sides, the buzzing andwhirring of the electric apparatus of the lift could be distinctlyheard. Then the lift appeared once more, this time with a red explosiveshell.
"Aim at the forepart of the _Satsuma_, 1950 yards!"
The _Connecticut_ rolled over heavily to starboard, the water splashedover the railing, rushing like a torrent between the turrets; then theship heeled over to the other side. The shot rang out.
"At last," cried the lieutenant proudly, pointing through the peep-hole.High up in the side of the _Satsuma_, close to the little 12-cm.quick-firing gun, a piece was seen to be missing when the smoke from thebursting shell had disappeared.
"Good shot," came from above; "go on firing with shrapnel!"
The distance-register silently showed the number 1850. Then came adeafening roar from below and the sharp ring of tearing iron. A hostileshell had passed obliquely below the turret into the forepart of the_Connecticut_, and clouds of thick black smoke completely obscured theview through the peep-hole.
"Four degrees higher!" commanded the lieutenant.
"Not yet correct," he grumbled; "three degrees higher still!" He waitedfor the _Connecticut_ to roll to port.
"What's the matter?"
"Use higher elevation in turrets. The _Connecticut_ has a leak and islisting to starboard," said the telephone. "Three degrees higher!"ordered the lieutenant.
A shot from the left barrel.
"Splendid," cried the lieutenant; "that was a fine shot! But lower,lower, we're merely shooting their upper plates to bits," and the gunwent on steadily firing.
The turrets on the starboard side were hit again and again, the hostileshells bursting perpetually against their armored sides. As if struck byelectric discharges the gunners were continually thrown back from therumbling walls, and they were almost deaf from the fearful din, so thatall commands had to be yelled out at the top of the lungs.
The raging storm and the rough sea prevented the Americans from using apart of their guns. While the explosive shells from the enemy's heavyintermediate battery were able to demolish everything on deck and topass through the unarmored portions of the sides, working fearful havocin the interior and among the crew, the light American secondary batterywas compelled to keep silence.
An attempt had been made, to be sure, to bring the 7-inch guns intoaction, but it proved of no avail. The gunners stood ready at theirposts to discharge the shells at the enemy, but it was utterlyimpossible, for no sooner had they taken aim, than they lost it again asthe hostile ships disappeared in the foaming glassy-green waves thatbroke against their sides. The water penetrated with the force of astream from a nozzle through the cracks in the plates and poured intothe casemates till the men were standing up to their knees in water. Atlast the only thing that could be done was to open the doors behind theguns in order to let the water out; but this arrangement had thedisadvantage of allowing a good deal of the water which had run out toreturn in full force and pile up in one corner the next time the shiprolled over, and on account of this perpetual battle with the wavesoutside and the rolling water inside, it was impossible for the men toaim properly or to achieve any results with their shots. It wastherefore deemed best to stop the firing here, and to have the gunnersrelieve the men at the turret-guns, who had suffered greatly from theenemy's fire. The men in charge of the completely demolished small gunson the upper deck had already been assigned to similar duty.
We therefore had to depend entirely on our 12-inch and 8-inch guns inthe turrets, while the enemy was able to bring into action all hisbroadside guns on the starboard side, which was only little affected bythe storm. And this superiority had been used to such advantage in thefirst eleven minutes of the battle, before the surprised Americans couldreply, that the decks of the latter's ships, especially of the admiral'sflag-ship, were a mass of wreckage even before the first American shothad been fired. The decks were strewn with broken bridges, planks,stanchions and torn rigging, and into the midst of this chaos now fellthe tall funnels and pieces of the steel masts. In most instances thewater continually pouring over the decks put out the fires; but the_Vermont_ was nevertheless burning aft and the angry flames could beseen bursting out of the gaping holes made by the shells.
Admiral Perry, in company with the commander and staff-officers, watchedthe progress of the battle from the conning-tower. The officers on dutyat the odometers calmly furnished the distance between their ship andthe enemy to the turrets and casemates, and the lieutenant in command ofthe fire-control on the platform above the conning-tower coolly andlaconically reported the results of the shots, at the same time givingthe necessary corrections, which were at once transmitted to the variousturrets by telephone. The rolling of the ships in the heavy seas madeoccasional pauses in the firing absolutely necessary.
The report that a series of shells belonging to the 8-inch guns in thefront turret had unreliable fuses led to considerable swearing in theconning-tower, but while the officers were still cursing the commissionfor accepting such useless stuff, a still greater cause for anxietybecame apparent.
Even before the Americans had begun their fire, the Japanese shells hadmade a few enormous holes in the unprotected starboard side of the_Connecticut_, behind the stem and just above the armored belt, andthrough these the water poured in and flooded all the inner chambers. Asthe armored gratings above the hatchways leading below had also beendestroyed or had not yet been closed, several compartments in theforepart of the ship filled with water. The streams of water continuallypouring in through the huge holes rendered it impossible to enter therooms beneath the armored deck or to close the hatchways. The pumpsavailed nothing, but fortunately the adjacent bulkheads proved to bewatertight. Nevertheless the _Connecticut_ buried her nose deep into thesea and thereby offered ever-increasing resistance to the oncomingwaves. Captain Farlow therefore ordered some of the watertightcompartments aft to be filled with water in order to restore the ship'sbalance. Similar conditions were reported from other ships.
But scarcely had this damage been thus fairly well adjusted, when a newmisfortune was reported. Two Japanese projectiles had struck the shipsimultaneously just below her narrow armor-belt as she heaved over toport, the shells entering the unprotected side just in front of theengine-rooms, and as the adjacent bulkheads could
not offer sufficientresistance to the pressure of the inpouring water, they were forced in,and as a result the _Connecticut_ heeled over badly to starboard, makingit necessary to fill some of the port compartments with water, since theguns could not otherwise obtain the required elevation. This caused theship to sink deeper and deeper, until the armor-belt was entirely belowthe standard waterline and the water which had rushed in through themany holes had already reached the passageways above the armored deck.The splashing about in these rushing floods, the continual bursting ofthe enemy's shells, the groans and moans of the wounded, and the vainattempts to get out the collision-mats on the starboardside--precautions that savored of preservation measures while at thesame time causing a great loss of life--all this began to impair thecrew's powers of resistance.
As the reports from below grew more and more discouraging, CaptainFarlow sent Lieutenant Meade down to examine into the state of thechambers above the armored deck. The latter asked his comrade, Curtis,to take his place at the telephone, but receiving no answer, he lookedaround, and saw poor Curtis with his face torn off by a piece of shellstill bending over his telephone between two dead signalmen....Lieutenant Meade turned away with a shiver, and, calling a midshipman totake his place, he left the conning-tower, which was being struckcontinually by hissing splinters from bursting shells.
Everywhere below the same picture presented itself--rushing watersplashing high up against the walls in all the passages, through whichambulance transports were making their way with difficulty. In a cornernot far from the staircase leading to the hospital lay a youngmidshipman, Malion by name, pressing both hands against a gaping woundin his abdomen, out of which the viscera protruded, and crying to someone to put him out of his misery with a bullet. What an end to a brightyoung life! Anything but think! One could only press on, for individuallives and human suffering were of small moment here compared with theportentous question whether the steel sides of the ship and the engineswould hold out.
"Shoot me; deliver me from my torture!" rang out the cry of thelieutenant's dying friend behind him; and there before him, rightagainst the wall, lay the sailor Ralling, that fine chap from Marylandwho was one of the men who had won the gig-race at Newport News; now hestared vacantly into space, his mouth covered with blood and foam. "Shotin the lung!" thought Meade, hurrying on and trying, oh so hard, not tothink!
"It went up in a slanting direction and then, ... itsteered straight for the enemy's balloon...."]
The black water gurgled and splashed around his feet as he rushed on,dashing with a hollow sound against one side of the passage when theship heeled over, only to be tossed back in a moment with equal force.
What was that?--Lieutenant Meade had reached the officers' mess--was itmusic or were his ears playing him a trick? Meade opened the door andthought at first he must be dreaming. There sat his friend and comrade,Lieutenant Besser, at the piano, hammering wildly on the keys. That sameJohnny Besser who, on account of his theological predilections went bythe nickname of "The Reverend," and who could argue until long aftermidnight over the most profound Biblical problems, that same JohnnyBesser, who was perpetually on the water-wagon. There he sat, bangingaway as hard as he could on the piano! Meade rushed at him angrily andseizing him by the arm cried: "Johnny, what are you doing here? Are youcrazy?"
Johnny took no notice of him whatever, but went on playing and began ina strange uncanny voice to sing the old mariner's song:
"Tom Brown's mother she likes whisky in her tea, As we go rolling home. Glory, Glory Hallelujah."
Horror seized Meade, and he tried to pull Johnny away from the piano,but the resistance offered by the poor fellow who had become mentallyderanged from sheer terror was too great, and he had to give up thestruggle.
From the outside came the din of battle. Meade threw the door of themess shut behind him, shivering with horror. Once more he heard thestrains of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah," and then he hurried upstairs. Hekept the condition in which he had found Johnny to himself.
When Lieutenant Meade got back to the conning-tower to make his report,the two fleets had passed each other in a parallel course. The enemy'sshells had swept the decks of the _Connecticut_ with the force of ahurricane. The gunners from the port side had already been called on tofill up the gaps in the turrets on the starboard side. By this time deadbodies were removed only where they were in the way, and even thewounded were left to lie where they had fallen.
When large pieces of wood from the burning boats began to be thrown ondeck by the bursting shells, a fresh danger was created, and the attemptwas made to toss them overboard with the aid of the cranes. But thissucceeded only on the port side. The starboard crane was smashed to bitsby a Japanese explosive shell just as it was raising a launch, the sameshot carrying off the third funnel just behind it. When Togo's last shiphad left the _Connecticut_ behind, only one funnel full of gaping holesand half of the mainmast were left standing on the deck of the admiral'sflag-ship, which presented a wild chaos of bent and broken ironwork.Through the ruins of the deck structures rose the flames and thick smokefrom the boilers.
The Japanese ships seemed to be invulnerable in their vital parts. It istrue that the _Satsuma_ had lost a funnel, and that both masts of the_Kashima_ were broken off, but except for a few holes above thearmor-belt and one or two guns that had been put out of action and thebarrels of which pointed helplessly into the air, the enemy showedlittle sign of damage. Those first eleven minutes, during which theenemy had had things all to himself, had given him an advantage which noamount of bravery or determined energy could counteract. In addition tothis, many of the American telescope-sights began to get out of order,as they bent under the blows of the enemy's shells against the turrets.Thus the aim of the Americans, which owing to the heavy seas and to thesmoke from the Japanese guns blown into their eyes by the wind was poorenough as it was, became more uncertain still. As the enemy passed,several torpedoes had been cleared by the Americans, but the shiningmetal-fish could not keep their course against the oncoming waves, andAdmiral Perry was forced to notify his ships by wireless to desist fromfurther attempts to use them, in order that his own ships might not beendangered by them.
The enemy, on the contrary, used his torpedoes with better success. Agreat mass of boiling foam rose suddenly beside the _Kansas_, which wasjust heeling to port, and this was followed immediately by sheets offlame and black clouds of smoke which burst from every hole and crevicein the sides and the turrets. The _Kansas_ listed heavily to starboardand then disappeared immediately in the waves. The torpedo must haveexploded in an ammunition chamber. On the burning _Vermont_ thesteering-gear seemed to be out of order. The battleship sheered sharplyto port, thus presenting its stern, which was almost hidden in heavyclouds of smoke, to the enemy, who immediately raked and tore it withshells. The _Minnesota_ was drifting in a helpless condition with herstarboard-railing deep under water, while thick streams of water pouredfrom her bilge-pumps on the port side. She gradually fell behind,whereupon the last ship of the line, the _New Hampshire_, passed her onthe fire side, covering her riddled hull for a moment, but then steamedon to join the only two ships in Admiral Perry's fleet which were stillin fairly good condition, namely the _Connecticut_ and the _Louisiana_.
When the hostile fleet began to fall slowly back--the battle had been inprogress for barely half an hour--Admiral Perry hoped for a moment thatby swinging his three ships around to starboard he would be able to getto windward of the enemy and thus succeed in bringing his almost intactport artillery into action. But even before he could issue his commands,he saw the six Japanese ironclads turn to port and steam towards theAmericans at full speed, pouring out tremendous clouds of smoke.Misfortunes never come singly; at this moment came the report that theboilers of the _New Hampshire_ had been badly damaged. Unless theadmiral wished to leave the injured ship to her fate, he was now forcedto reduce the speed of the other two ships to six knots. This was thebeginning of the end.
It was of no use fo
r Admiral Perry to swing his three ships around tostarboard. The enemy, owing to his superior speed, could always keep aparallel course and remain on the starboard side. One turret after theother was put out of action. When the casemate with its three intact7-inch guns could at last be brought into play on the lee-side, it wastoo late. At such close quarters the steel-walls of the casemates andthe mountings were shot to pieces by the enemy's shells. Thefire-control refused to act, the wires and speaking-tubes weredestroyed, and each gun had to depend on itself. The electricinstallation had been put out of commission on the _Louisiana_ by ashell bursting through the armored deck and destroying the dynamos. Asthe gun-turrets could no longer be swung around and the ammunition-liftshad come to a stand-still in consequence, the _Louisiana_ was reduced toa helpless wreck. She sank in the waves at 11.15, and shortly afterwardsthe _New Hampshire_, which was already listing far to starboard becausethe water had risen above the armored deck, capsized. By 12.30 the_Connecticut_ was the sole survivor. She continued firing from the12-inch guns in the rear turret and from the two 8-inch starboardturrets.
At this point a large piece of shell slipped through the peep-hole ofthe conning-tower and smashed its heavy armored dome. The next shotmight prove fatal. Admiral Perry was compelled to leave the spot he hadmaintained so bravely; in a hail of splinters he at last managed toreach the steps leading from the bridge; they were wet with the blood ofthe dead and dying and the last four had been shot away altogether. Theother mode of egress, the armored tube inside the turret, was stopped upwith the bodies of two dead signalmen. The admiral let himself carefullydown by holding on to the bent railing of the steps, and was just intime to catch the blood-covered body of his faithful comrade, CaptainFarlow, who had been struck by a shell as he stood on the lowest step.The admiral leaned the body gently against the side of themilitary-mast, which had been dyed yellow by the deposits of the hostileshells.
Stepping over smoldering ruins and through passages filled with dead andwounded men, over whose bodies the water splashed and gurgled, theadmiral at last reached his post below the armored deck.
To this spot were brought the reports from the fire-control stationed atthe rear mast and from the last active stations. It was a mournfulpicture that the admiral received here of the condition of the_Connecticut_. The dull din of battle, the crashing and rumbling of thehostile shells, the suffocating smoke which penetrated even here below,the rhythmic groaning of the engine and the noise of the pumps wereunited here into an uncanny symphony. The ventilators had to be closed,as they sent down biting smoke from the burning deck instead of freshair. The nerves of the officers and crews were in a state of fearfultension; they had reached the point where nothing matters and wheredestruction is looked forward to as a deliverance.
Who was that beside the admiral who said something about the white flag,to him, the head of the squadron, to the man who had been intrusted withthe honor of the Stars and Stripes? It was only a severely woundedpetty-officer murmuring to himself in the wild delirium of fever. ForGod's sake, anything but that! The admiral turned around sharply andcalled into the tube leading to the stern turret: "Watch over the flag;it must not be struck!"
No one answered--dead iron, dead metal, not a human sound could be heardin that steel tomb. And now some of the electric lights suddenly wentout. "I won't die here in this smoky steel box," said the admiral tohimself; "I won't drown here like a mouse in a trap." There was nothingmore to be done down here anyway, for most of the connections had beencut off, and so Admiral Perry turned over the command of the_Connecticut_ to a young lieutenant with the words: "Keep them firing aslong as you can." Then murmuring softly to himself, "It's of no useanyhow," he crept through a narrow bulkhead-opening to a stairway andgroped his way up step by step. Suddenly he touched something soft andwarm; it groaned loudly. Heavens! it was a sailor who had dragged hisshattered limbs into this corner. "Poor fellow," said the admiral, andclimbed up, solitary and alone, to the deck of his lost ship. The dinof battle sounded louder and louder, and at last he reached the deckbeneath the rear bridge. A badly wounded signalman was leaning against abit of railing that had remained standing, staring at the admiral withvacant eyes. "Are the signal-halyards still clear?" asked Perry. "Yes,"answered the man feebly.
"Then signal at once: Three cheers for the United States!" The littlecolored flags flew up to the yardarm like lightning, and it grew quieton the _Connecticut_.
The last shell, the last cartridge was shoved into the breech, one moreshot was aimed at the enemy from the heated barrels, and then all wasstill except for the crash of the hostile projectiles, the crackling ofthe flames and the howling of the wind. The other side, too, graduallyceased firing. With the _Satsuma_ and the _Aki_ in the van and the fourother ships following, the enemy's squadron advanced, enveloped in athin veil of smoke.
High up in the stern of the _Connecticut_ and at her mastheads waved thetattered Stars and Stripes. The few gunners, who had served the guns tothe end, crept out of the turrets and worked their way up over brokensteps. There were fifty-seven of them, all that remained of the proudsquadron. Three cheers for their country came from the parched throatsof these last heroes of the _Connecticut_. "Three cheers for the UnitedStates!" Admiral Perry drew his sword, and "Hurrah" it rang once moreacross the water to the ships sailing under the flag which bore thedevice of a crimson Rising Sun on a white field. There memories of theold days of the Samurai knighthood were aroused, and a signal appearedon the rear top mast of the _Satsuma_, whereupon all six battleshipslowered their flags as a last tribute to a brave enemy.
Then the _Connecticut_ listed heavily to starboard, and the next wavecould not raise the heavy ship, bleeding from a thousand wounds. It sankand sank, and while Admiral Perry held fast to a bit of railing andwaited with moist eyes for the end, the words of the old "Star-SpangledBanner," which had been heard more than once in times of storm andperil, rang out from the deck of the _Connecticut_. Then, with her flagwaving to the last, the admiral's flag-ship sank slowly beneath thewaves, leaving a bloody glow behind her. That was the end.
Banzai! by Parabellum Page 12