THE BATTLE
At Communication Headquarters of the enemy in Gibraltar there were
busy times. Radio experts, decoding experts, and Intelligence officers
were especially active in analyzing Allied naval dispatches. The code
system to which Bela procured the key had been verified by repeated
observation of fleet maneuvers, thus completing their assurance that
the Allies still placed confidence in it, and were changing code from
month to month according to the schedule outlined in the key.
And now activity of special interest was discovered. A considerable
detachment of the Allied Navy, scouts and armored cruisers, together
with four of the older battleships, was cruising to the eastward of
the Azores and approaching near enough to the coast of Portugal to
make things look very interesting. Intercepted messages and
radio-compass bearings taken on their signals by the shore stations at
Vigo, Lisbon, and Gibraltar told the story, leaving no chance of
mistake as to the actual approach of ships to the coast. Such a force
as this, if cut off from the rest of the Allied fleet, would be easy
prey for the Mediterranean Navy; and a chance to destroy it would be a
golden opportunity, for the loss of these cruisers and battleships,
even though the latter were nearly obsolete and inferior to the
first-line capital ships, would be a serious blow to the Allies; it
would measurably weaken their navy, and greatly improve the outlook
for a subsequent battle between the two fleets.
But could this force be really cruising so far away from the main
fleet as to render it liable to be cut off from support? With
redoubled vigilance the radio forces in the Portuguese and Spanish
stations listened for clues to the presence of a supporting force of
capital ships, or to some explanation of the apparently isolated
position of the cruiser force.
Now, in radio communications, as elsewhere, the chain is often no
stronger than its weakest link. A slip on the part of a single
operator entrusted with a message may work vast havoc through the
resulting confusion. Before long, as the messages of the Allied
flagships were decoded and studied by the enemy experts in Gibraltar,
an explanation of the dangerous move of the Allied cruisers came to
light. This force, conducting a sweep of the waters east of the Azores
on the chance of finding enemy commerce raiders, was supposed to be
remaining within reach of the main fleet, still at the Azores; that
is, so near that if the enemy should put out from Gibraltar, the
cruiser force and the rest of the fleet could, by steaming toward each
other at full speed, effect a junction before the enemy battle
cruisers with their higher speed could overtake and attack. But a
message from Allied Headquarters in Punta Delgada saying, “Proceed no
farther to the eastward,” had through error been transmitted, “Proceed
farther to the eastward.” Before the mistake had been discovered, the
cruisers had steamed close in to the vicinity of Cape Saint Vincent
and Gibraltar. And now, with the slow speed of the older battleships
to retard their escape, and with the rest of the fleet far away, the
detached force was in a most perilous position. All this was now
revealed to the enemy through their analysis of intercepted messages.
Clearly there was no time to lose in giving chase. The cruiser force
had discovered the mistake and would retreat toward the supporting
fleet with all possible speed. But so near was it, and so much would
its speed be retarded by the slower ships, that the battle cruisers of
the Mediterranean Navy could surely overtake it before reinforcements
could arrive on the scene.
[Illustration]
Emergency orders were given by the Turkish Admiral; steam was raised
for maximum speed in the entire fleet, and with expedition denoting a
high degree of preparedness and efficiency the fleet steamed off to
the westward in search of the detached force. Speed was everything in
this pursuit, and soon the advance force of the battle cruisers with a
screen of scouts and destroyers thrown out ahead, speeding west at
twenty-nine knots, had dropped the main battle fleet out of sight
astern. It was nearly sunset when the fleet left Gibraltar, and
through the night the race to the westward went on. No radio signals
were sent by the advance force, for, though their strength left no
doubts in the mind of the commanding officer of his ability to destroy
the force that now seemed almost within his grasp, still it was
desirable to avoid revealing his approach, in order that he might
catch his prey unawares—he would probably make quicker work of them
this way. But every radio operator listened intently for signals from
the Allied cruisers. Before the night was over, they had been heard
reporting progress and telling their whereabouts to the Allied battle
fleet, supposedly hastening eastward in a vain endeavor to come to the
rescue before a superior force from Gibraltar should have time to
overtake and destroy them. To the great satisfaction of the Turkish
Admiral on the battle cruiser flagship, a message soon reached him
from Gibraltar reporting that bearings taken by radio compass at
Lisbon and Gibraltar on the same message of the Allied cruiser force
had verified the position reported by the cruisers themselves, and
showed that they were only making nineteen knots. Soon after sunrise
the fugitives would be overtaken, and it would not be long before the
heavy guns of the battle cruisers had sunk the entire force. Even if
the Allied battle fleet had started eastward at top speed as soon as
the dangerous position of the cruisers was discovered, they could not
possibly reach the point where the battle cruisers would overtake the
fugitive detachment before the afternoon. By that time the battle
cruisers would have ample time to finish off their victims, retreat,
and effect a conjunction with their own battle fleet. The
Mediterranean fleet thus consolidated could well afford, if conditions
then seemed favorable, to meet and give battle to the Allied fleet,
weakened as it would be by the loss of its cruisers and the four older
battleships.
At dawn seaplanes were sent up from the Turkish battle cruiser
squadron to scout to the westward and look for the Allied cruiser
force, and especially to make sure that no other force, not mentioned
in the dispatches, was lurking in the neighborhood. A light southwest
wind was blowing; low-lying haze and clouds rendered observations from
any great height impossible. This obliged the seaplanes to fly low.
Just after sunrise they returned and reported sighting a considerable
force of cruisers and destroyers steaming west. Being under orders to
avoid approaching enemy craft near enough to be seen, they had
returned without getting close enough to make out just what type of
cruisers they had seen or whether the four battleships were with them,
for the visibility to the westward was very poor. There was no mistake
then; their prey was surely theirs. The news was acclaimed with joy on
the flagship. The Admiral rubbed his palms together and smiled grimly.
He recalled the great deeds of the Turkish navies of the fifteenth
century, and gloried in the thought that the honor of adding a new
page to their illustrious record would be his.
Onward steamed the battle cruisers, all hands in high hopes of a swift
and decisive action. At half-past seven in the morning the lookouts in
the Mediterranean scouts, three miles in advance of the battle
cruisers, reported ships to the westward. “Action stations” was
sounded and the scouting line rapidly maneuvered into battle
formation. Overtaking as fast as they were, it was soon easy to make
out a long line of scout cruisers to the westward, now steaming on a
northwesterly course. But where were the armored cruisers, and where
were the four battleships that had been holding them back? The
visibility to the westward was low, and probably the scouts and
destroyers, having greater speed, had held back to give warning if a
pursuing force should come. Probably the rest of the force was a few
miles ahead. At all events, the scouts were now in range, and the
chance to do them damage was not to be lost. The battle cruisers
opened fire with their big guns, and had landed two salvos close to
the fleeing scout cruisers when a smoke screen from the destroyers on
their flank hid them from view. When next they were seen through the
smoke, they had increased speed and opened the range, so that the
battle cruisers’ salvos were falling short.
The northwesterly course of the fleeing ships was a considerable
change from the westerly course of the pursuit through the night.
Possibly the slower ships had turned southwest in hopes of escaping in
the low visibility while the scouts decoyed the battle cruisers away
to the northwest. Therefore the seaplanes were sent up again to search
the sea to the southwest and find the armored cruisers and
battleships. After a prolonged search they returned with a report that
no ships were to be seen to the west, southwest, or south for a
distance of many miles.
Meanwhile the destroyers of the two fleets had come together in an
attempt to maneuver for torpedo attack against the larger ships.
Lively shelling at close range resulted, but only minor damage was
done on either side. In consequence of this diversion, the smoke
screen became sufficiently dissipated to enable the battle cruisers to
catch sight of the Allied scouts speeding toward the northwest far on
the port bow, near the limit of visibility. Again they opened fire and
saw their salvos beginning to fall very close just before the smoke
screen of the destroyers again hid them from sight.
When next they came into view, they had changed course to north and
were already bearing almost dead ahead. The battle cruisers swung on
to a parallel course and opened a heavy fire on them, but the rapidly
changing range made the targets difficult to hit; so, dodging salvos,
the Allied scout cruisers sped northward disappearing again into smoke
and haze.
Hitherto the scout cruisers of the Mediterranean fleet had remained
only a short distance ahead of their supporting battle cruisers and
hence too far out of effective range of the Allied scouts to make it
worth while to open fire with their six-inch guns. But now a signal
was made from the flagship telling the scouts to pursue and engage
those of the Allies.
Putting on all speed and changing course to port, the Mediterranean
scouts succeeded in closing the range with their adversaries till it
was possible to engage them with their six-inch guns. And now for the
first time in the war ships of the same type, evenly matched, engaged
in battle. In numbers, speed, and gun-power there was little to choose
between the opposing scout cruiser divisions; but in morale the
difference was one that told in the tense five minutes after the
cruisers opened fire on each other. Those of the Allies replied to the
first salvo, which fell short, not only with a salvo from their own
six-inch guns, but also by deploying sharply toward their adversaries,
thus passing well under the second enemy salvo which screeched
overhead, and rapidly closing the range. Hits were scored on both
sides. On the Allied ships one gun was put out of action, while
several shells burst in pantries, hammock lashings, and other places
which caused more annoyance than vital damage. But so heavy and
determined was their fire upon the Mediterranean scouts that, with
flames bursting forth and magazines endangered, a conning tower
smashed,—skipper and all, and two or three guns crippled, confusion
and panic began to spread. With the Allied fire growing heavier and
their own growing wild, the Turks soon veered sharply away and
retreated under cover of the big guns of the battle cruisers.
What with distance, haze, and the smoke screen of the destroyers, only
the flashes of the guns on the Allied scouts were visible to the
pursuing battle cruisers; and when their firing ceased as the
Mediterranean scouts withdrew, they disappeared from view altogether.
But it was not for long; soon they were seen again through a rift in
the smoke screen, once more dead ahead, and now heading no longer
north, but northeast.
What could this mean? Could it be that these scouts were leading the
battle cruisers into some sort of trap? Could there be reinforcements
lying in wait to the northeast? This seemed hardly possible. No
vessels had been heard sending radio signals in that vicinity,
although the net of sensitive receivers, capable of detecting even the
feeblest signals, had been constantly spread—an army of vigilant
operators listening every instant for the faintest sound. Nothing had
been heard save the steady stream of tactical signals between the
Allied scout cruisers as they sped away. If the four old battleships
and the armored cruisers, reported to have been with the scouts, had
gone in that direction, it would be the worse for them, since the
heavy guns of the approaching battle cruisers, soon to be reinforced
by those of the main battle fleet, coming up rapidly from the east,
would make short work of them. No; it was unlikely that the Allied
scouts would attempt to lead them toward the detached division of
slower ships. The main battle fleet of the Allies must still be far
away—in the vicinity of the Azores; the dispatches intercepted the day
before seemed to make a certainty of that. This move on the part of
the Allied scouts was quite unintelligible. At all events, it was
leading them toward the main battle fleet of the Mediterranean Powers.
At this rate a junction would soon be effected, and the Turks couldn’t
wish anything better than that.
The chase continued on a northeasterly course till the forenoon was
well advanced, the fugitive scouts and destroyers of the Allies
appearing like shadows in a dream, with bewildering elusiveness; and
all this time the main battle fleet from the east, apprised of the
course of events by radio from the battle cruisers, was approaching
rapidly on a northwesterly course. Most of the time the Allied scouts
were out of sight, and fire was withheld, but now and then a fleeting
glimpse of them would cause the battle cruisers to “loose off” a salvo
or two.
The lookouts on the pursuing ships did not see two American destroyers
approach the Allied scouts from the north at thirty-five knots and
fall into line on their port beam. But they did see the scouts
reappear through the haze and smoke once again at closer range than
before, having shifted course to the east. This was better still;—the
battle cruisers would the sooner effect a junction with the main
fleet.
By noon the men in the fighting tops of the Mediterranean battle
cruisers saw the welcome sight of smoke in the southeast denoting the
approach of their main battle fleet. A few minutes later the smoke was
also seen by the lookouts on the Allied scouts. The Mediterranean
fleet was now united in one colossal force, the scout and battle
cruiser squadrons taking station ahead of the battleships. Upon this
the Allied scout cruisers and destroyers veered to the north.
Zigzagging, disappearing behind smoke screens and fitfully
reappearing, these scouts presented a maddeningly difficult target for
the battle cruisers. With the speed presumably at their disposal they
might have drawn away and escaped, but instead they zigzagged and kept
reappearing so near that the battle cruisers would open fire on them,
only to lose sight of them again in the smoke and haze before the
range-finders, spotters, and trainers could get in the necessary work
for hitting the elusive targets. Then, as the order to cease firing
was given, the commanders would realize, to the tune of many an oath,
that they had only been wasting ammunition.
Thus the running fight went on, the entire fleet of the Mediterranean
Powers pursuing a squadron of scout cruisers and a score or so of
destroyers on a northerly course, but only the battle cruisers in the
van could get within range of the fugitives. For half an hour they
held this course; then the zigzagging of the Allied scouts took them
farther to the west, till by one o’clock the pursuit had shifted to a
northwesterly course. Then for a moment the scout cruisers appeared
still well in the lead, but more clearly visible than usual and
offering an irresistible target for the big guns of the battle
cruisers. But it was only for a brief minute or two, and as the salvos
began to splash closer to their mark, six destroyers were seen to dash
between the scouts and their pursuers, sending out a dense smoke
screen behind which all else was lost to view. The smoke screen
continued to lie like a great pall far on the port bow of the pursuing
fleet, but the light southwest wind swept it toward their path, and
soon the destroyers, dodging behind their own screen, had also
vanished from sight. They must, however, still be holding the same
general course, for the smoke continued to pour forth, making a wide
blanket to the west and northwest; and behind that blanket the scouts
were doubtless increasing speed to make good their escape. So said the
Turkish Admiral in command of the battle cruiser squadron, but he
could not see the Allied scout cruisers behind their screen executing
the same maneuver which the German High Seas Fleet executed at
Jutland, although the British believed it impracticable in action—a
“simultaneous swing-around” whereby, each ship doubling on her tracks,
and all at the same moment, both the direction and the order of the
ships were rapidly reversed. Steaming back at high speed, together
with the majority of the destroyers—all but the six that made the
screen—it was only a few minutes before the Allied scouts were abreast
of the main body of the enemy’s battle fleet, some miles astern of the
battle cruisers. Again the simultaneous swing-around was effected and
the scouts closed in on the enemy.
With blank amazement the Turkish Commander-in-Chief on the bridge of
his flagship saw the long, slender scout cruisers, nine in number,
preceded by some eighteen destroyers, emerge from the thinning smoke
and haze barely five miles away on his port beam and come tearing at
top speed toward his formidable fleet of giant dreadnaughts. The
audacity of it fairly staggered him; here they came into the very jaws
of death. The smoke screen, dissipated and blowing across his line,
left the visibility good toward the southwest; against the bright
horizon sky under the sun the approaching ships stood out clearly,
making excellent targets but for their speed, which taxed the
range-finders’ powers to the limit. Clearly it was an attack with
intent to torpedo.
“What madness is this?” gasped the Admiral. “They’ll pay for their
folly,” he added grimly. And all along his battle-line big guns and
secondary batteries began to belch forth their terrific fire on the
swarm of hornets making their reckless dash. And pay they did. One of
the scouts was hit heavily by two successive salvos, burst into
flames, and then blew up in a great cloud of black smoke. Another,
with steam pouring from the rent deck over her engine room, veered
off, dropped out of line, and soon fell rapidly astern. But the other
seven came on at a frightful pace, following close to the destroyers,
already hotly engaged by those of the enemy. On came the destroyers
through the deadly hail of shot, and some of them came unscathed
except for funnels and superstructures, to within six thousand yards
of the great battle-line, where each one let go a dozen torpedoes. The
scout cruisers, close behind, fired their torpedoes almost at the same
moment.
So densely did these underwater missiles swarm toward the great battle
fleet that, in spite of every effort to dodge, several vital hits were
made. One battleship sank then and there. Another, hit close to the
stern, her port propeller gone and her steering-gear smashed, was soon
left wallowing helpless far astern. The Admiral in his flagship
muttered savagely as he saw two of his best ships put out of action,
but he noted with satisfaction the cruel punishment the Allied scout
cruisers and destroyers were getting as they turned to retreat after
firing their torpedoes. He was eagerly watching his salvos hit, the
red glow of the impact, the bursts of flame, the shattered decks and
superstructures that marked the havoc wrought by his gunners, when a
frightful din behind him made him turn and stare wildly to starboard.
There, scarce a hundred yards away, rose the giant splash of a
concentrated salvo of heavy shells. With an awful screech projectiles
ricocheted overhead, and tons of water came aboard. Only the big guns
of a dreadnaught could have sent such a salvo. Where was she? The
skyline to starboard all the way from north to east was obscured by
the combined smoke of the Allied destroyers and the entire
Mediterranean fleet, blown thither by the southwest wind, and merging
into the haze. In vain the Admiral and his lookouts searched for the
outline of an enemy ship. But then, through the murk, they saw faintly
an ominous ripple of orange flashes extending almost continuously for
miles along the northeastern horizon. Not one, but many salvos were on
their way through space, coming with deadly aim for his battleships.
With indescribable noise the next salvo arrived and straddled the
flagship. One shell hit fair on a forward turret, exploded, and put
its three guns hopelessly out of action; another started an angry
blaze on the superstructure; others tore great holes in the ship’s
side, wrecking compartments through which they passed. Looking
anxiously down the line of ships astern, the Admiral saw an awful
picture of fires and explosions telling of havoc already wrought.
Confusion and consternation were everywhere. All hands on all ships
had been giving their full attention to pouring the hottest kind of
fire from full broadsides into the attacking destroyers and scouts as
they endeavored to turn and escape from the close range to which they
had approached. No one grasped the significance of this sudden
development in time to begin training the turrets around to starboard
before the second salvo arrived and registered damaging hits on nearly
half the ships of the line. Orders were wildly shouted and signals
made, and when they understood what was up, with all the speed they
could muster the distracted men trained the big turrets to starboard.
But what was there to shoot at? Not a ship could be seen; only the dim
blur of the orange-red flashes through the smoke revealed where the
salvos came from, and these were far too well obscured to enable the
range-finders to give the gunners the distance or to offer a target
for trainers and pointers. But from a range of twelve thousand yards
each of the Mediterranean battleships presented a perfect target in
silhouette against the southwestern sky to the battle-line of the
Allied fleet.
* * * * *
In the radio room of the battleship _Delaware_, Admiral Johnson’s
flagship, there had been a busy scene all the morning. Yet in all the
fleet not a transmitter was in action, not a signal was sent by radio,
for a single spark might reveal their presence to the enemy and give
away the maneuver; but on every battleship and on every destroyer the
radio operators were listening intently. Nearly a hundred miles to the
northeast, as the running fight between the enemy battle cruisers and
the scouts began in the early morning, the Allied battleship fleet,
well screened by destroyers, had been maneuvering, guided by
radio-compass bearings taken on the tactical signals of the Allied
scouts and the signals exchanged between the battle cruisers and the
main fleet of the enemy. Since no telltale radio signals could be
sent, all messages between the ships of the Allied battle fleet must
be transmitted by flag hoist or by blinker—flashes sent by
searchlights from the bridge. By this means the radio-compass reports
from all parts of the fleet were silently relayed to the flagship, and
in return all orders directing operations were sent out from the
flagship to the other ships, without making a sound that could reveal
their presence to the enemy.
So important was it to place the ships accurately in the desired
position that two methods besides those of ordinary navigation were
used to coördinate the movements of the battle fleet with those of the
decoying squadron of scout cruisers and destroyers. Radio-compass
triangulation was worked both ways: first, with the battle fleet as a
base line; second, with the decoying scout cruisers as a base line.
The second method was a rough one, for in their running fight the
scouts offered a poor base line at best. Therefore the main reliance
was placed on the base line established in the main fleet. For this
purpose, two groups of destroyers, one at each end of the column, were
detailed to take radio-compass bearings on the signals of the scout
cruiser flagship, and report them to the _Delaware_ by blinker, the
reports being relayed from ship to ship all along the column. This
method was accurate, but slow because of the time needed to relay the
reports. Therefore it was supplemented by the reverse process, the
_Delaware_ herself taking bearings on signals exchanged between the
two ends of the scout cruiser column.
The _Delaware_ had two radio compasses at widely separate points on
the superstructure, in case of accident to one. At these stations were
two men whom Evans had chosen from all the radio-compass operators in
the fleet for the speed and accuracy with which they could take
bearings. At one of these stations, with an extra pair of head-phones
plugged into the circuit, Evans listened in during the entire time of
the running fight which brought the fleets together, checking the
bearings taken by the operator and reporting them to the plotting
room. Thus he gave Fraser a rough estimate of the position of the
scouts some time before the more accurate information could be relayed
in from the destroyers.
In the plotting room, Captain Fraser, Chief of Staff, with a group of
officers plotting the entire development of the action, including the
positions and progress of both the advance force and the main fleet of
the enemy and of the decoying scouts and the battle fleet of the
Allies, received the advance reports which Evans gave him, and
prepared in his mind the next step in maneuvering the battle fleet
while waiting for the corroborating reports from the destroyers at the
ends of the column.
Thus the morning wore on, the mighty fleet, giant dreadnaughts,
armored cruisers, scouts, and destroyers, spread out for miles over
the wide expanse of ocean, all moving in perfect unison, maneuvered at
the behest of Fraser’s guiding mind. Now they would speed up, now slow
down, now change course to port or starboard, much as a hawk with
watchful eye will hover and wheel before the final swoop on his prey.
And ever the suspense grew more acute.
Admiral Johnson on the bridge scanned the wide horizon where his great
line of ships stretched away as far as the eye could reach, and
farther. Signalmen, tense and alert, awaited the word to flash out
orders by blinker or bend on the flags to the signal halyards.
Lookouts way aloft strained their eyes to detect the slightest object
on the blue expanse of sea.
In the middle of the morning, Fraser, studying on the plotting sheet
the converging courses of the three groups of ships, calculated where
his decoying force of scout cruisers should next lead the enemy in
order to place them in a favorable position for attack. He then
dispatched the two destroyers which approached the scout cruiser
squadron from the north where the enemy could not see them, with
orders for them to shift course from northeast to east.
Soon after this, signals were sent out from the _Delaware_ to the rear
admirals in command of the various battleship divisions giving them
preparatory instructions for the maneuver which should bring the fleet
into battle-line when the right moment arrived, and apprising them of
the imminence of battle. By this time every man in the fleet knew that
momentous doings were on foot, but few knew what the next turn of
events would be. The ships were cleared for action.
As soon as the radio reports from the scouts showed that the enemy had
joined forces, a third destroyer was sent to approach the scouts under
cover of the smoke and haze in the northwest, telling them what course
to steer and when to make the torpedo attack which should divert and
absorb the attention of the enemy. The united fleet of the enemy was
now only fifteen miles away bearing southeast; the booming of their
heavy guns was clearly heard.
On every ship all hands were assembled and told that action of the
first magnitude was at hand; the situation was outlined, conditions
were favorable, and the outcome was in their hands.
On the _Delaware_, Admiral Johnson spoke to the men himself.
“The great battle is at hand,” he said. “Now is the chance of your
lives to show what is in you. The outcome of the war is at stake. The
advantage of visibility will all be on our side. You will see the
enemy better than he can see you. It is a golden chance to do your
best at gunnery; so keep your heads and shoot straight, and your first
five minutes’ shooting will decide the issue. We are going to make it
a swift and decisive victory, and it depends on you. In a few minutes’
time a detachment of our scouts and destroyers will make a desperate
attack on the enemy’s battle-line from the farther side, partly to
damage him with torpedoes, but chiefly to draw his fire from us. We
are asking heroism of the highest order from them; let us see that it
is not given in vain.”
Then “General Quarters” was sounded. The men ran eagerly to their
action stations.
Now began a maneuver of the fleet which would have staggered the
imagination of an admiral of the Jutland days. A brief series of
signals went out from the _Delaware_, and at the word the countless
ships of the fleet commenced an evolution so bewildering and involved
that the keenest observer would have seen in it nothing but disorder
and confusion. In complexity it surpassed the performance of the most
intricate machine. Yet in an incredibly short time all ships fell as
if by magic into battle-line in perfect formation, on a northwesterly
course that slowly converged on the enemy.
As soon as the scouts commenced their simultaneous swing-around, they
ceased sending signals lest they betray their move; but the
destroyers, making the smoke screen where they had been, kept up the
patter needed to inform the battle fleet of their progress. As soon as
the scouts emerged from the lifting smoke screen and came into full
view of the enemy battle-line in their final dash, they began again to
use their radio.
The battle fleet of the Allies had now maneuvered into a position
northeast of the enemy, broad on his starboard bow, and had swung into
battle formation. The lookouts reported sighting the enemy
battleships, and Fraser, now in the conning tower, noted with
satisfaction how closely their position agreed with that deduced from
the great mass of data which had been pouring into the plotting room.
The radio compass had not failed. The maneuver, which had been his
dream since he scratched the diagram on the ground in the Borge
garden, was realized at last; it had worked even better than he had
hoped. Then in the radio room the signals of the scouts were again
heard.
“Attacking enemy on his port beam—range nine thousand yards—under
heavy fire, big guns and secondary battery—range eight thousand
yards”—and so on.
Thanks to the greater visibility to the southwest, the enemy
battle-line was now clearly in view from the turrets and control tops;
the range-finders had measured the range, the targets had been
assigned, the trainers and pointers were “on,” and all were in
readiness to open fire. Their suspense was nearing the breaking point.
Then the results of the torpedo attack appeared; one battleship
silhouette changed to a cloud of black smoke and vanished. The other
disabled ship could be seen to drop out of line.
At a signal from the _Delaware_, all at once the broadsides of the
entire battle-line went off; in record time the second salvo followed
the first, and then the third; and, even before the enemy had
responded and his first salvos had come screeching through the air,
great fires and jets of steam and smoke told the story of heavy damage
already done across the six miles of water.
There was now no more need for silence; the flagship would direct the
movements of the fleet by radio, all transmitters would be in action;
the radio compass had done its work. Evans left the radio-compass
station and hastened to a hatch leading to the main radio room beneath
the armored deck. As he crossed the superstructure he saw far away in
the southwest the scene of wild tumult, ships on fire, the orange
flashes of their salvos, the splashes and hits of the straddling
salvos from the Allied fleet, and then the great splashes of the
enemy’s salvos landing several hundred yards short, followed by the
screech of their ricocheting shells overhead. Added to this, the
deafening roar of the _Delaware’s_ own broadside completed an
indelible picture in his mind as he went below into the comparative
quiet of the radio room, now becoming the busy scene of tactical
dispatches coming and going, with Elkins directing the work of coding
and decoding.
The scouts and destroyers of the decoying force had paid a fearful
price in the climax of their torpedo attack. The seven surviving
cruisers, all riddled with shells, some crippled with vital hits,
their decks strewn with splinters and wreckage, but all still able to
steam, withdrew out of range. Their work was done, and well done.
Several destroyers were sunk, for they had come even closer to the
enemy, and thus drawn the heavier fire. Those nearest to their sinking
comrades turned, zigzagged, dodged a salvo or two, and then stopped
while the shells still fell round them thick and fast, to rescue the
survivors, the speed of the enemy battle fleet soon, happily, causing
the range to increase just enough to render the rescue something short
of downright suicide. Yet many men went down with their ships,
thinking to the last, not of self, but only of the fight.
Barely had the attacking cruisers and destroyers on the port side of
the Mediterranean column withdrawn, when no less than forty American
destroyers appeared darting out from the haze on their starboard bow.
With all available destroyers of the Mediterranean fleet busy
repelling the first attack on the port side, and with all turret guns
not yet crippled, firing wildly into the haze on the northeastern
horizon, there was nothing left but the starboard secondary batteries
of the battleships with which to repel this new and formidable
onslaught. The morale of the gunners, already shaken by the startling
turn of events, was no whit the better for the sight of the angry
swarm of destroyers charging in with the speed of express trains.
Their fire was hot but wild, and soon the sea fairly seethed with
torpedo tracks which the battleships desperately maneuvered to dodge,
thus dislocating the aim of their turrets.
The torpedo attack was chiefly concentrated on the leading ships and
especially on the Mediterranean flagship, for well the Allies knew
that morale was not the Turk’s long suit, and that a loss of
centralized control would severely cripple his fleet. In spite of
frantic efforts by the gunners of the secondary battery and vigilant
watch for torpedo tracks from bridge and crow’s-nest, nothing the
helmsman could do availed to dodge the concentrated swarm of
torpedoes, and, in less than ten minutes from the landing of the first
salvo, the Mediterranean flagship was hit in the starboard engine
room.
The men on the American destroyers, now zigzagging off through a
tornado of shell-fire, looked back through the leaping pillars of
white, frothy water, and shouted as they saw the great battleship more
than half-obscured by a strange patchwork of white steam and black
smoke rising in clouds above her fighting tops. Then they saw her,
with her engines crippled, listing heavily to starboard, fall out of
line, and drop astern. The Turkish Admiral signaled a light cruiser to
come alongside, and soon had transferred his flag to another
battleship farther astern, swinging well out of line to port and thus
taking refuge on the disengaged side of his line during the transfer.
Before his flagship was torpedoed, the Admiral had managed to send a
signal to his advance battle cruiser force, ordering them to deploy to
starboard and attack the Allied battle-line. The rear admiral in
charge of this force, angry at his vain pursuit of the scout cruisers
which had led him into the trap, turned his flagship at high speed and
led his column impetuously to the attack. At nine thousand yards, in
spite of the low visibility to the east, he sighted the American
flagship leading the Allied column, and, swinging rapidly on to a
parallel course, opened fire on her. The _Delaware_, having seen the
enemy flagship hit by the torpedo and then fall out of line, was in
the act of training her turrets on the next battleship astern when the
enemy battle cruisers suddenly appeared closing rapidly on her port
bow. She had barely time to train her turrets on the leading battle
cruiser before the concentrated fire of three of these formidable
opponents began to pour in upon her. And now came the great test for
her manifold radio equipment. There was no time to lose. Signals must
be sent to all battleships within range to support her by diverting
their fire to these fast and powerful ships; signals must be sent to
all available destroyers to harass them with torpedo attacks; and
still the direction of the fleet as a unit must go on, and all without
mutual interference of messages. Signals were flashing out
simultaneously on different wave-lengths from three or four separate
antennæ, both by radio telephone and by radio telegraph. The
_Delaware_ was now heavily engaged, delivering salvos from all her
turrets at the maximum speed, and, in spite of zigzagging, frequently
being straddled by the salvos of the battle cruisers. Down in the
radio room officers were feverishly coding and decoding messages, some
operators were sending them, others tending the control switches
whereby the radio telephone was kept running so that the chief of
staff in the conning tower could give orders verbally to those units
which he was in the greatest hurry to reach. Evans was watching the
various ammeters and indicators to see that the machinery ran
smoothly, and Elkins was directing the whole show.
Suddenly Evans noticed the metres of the radio telephone outfit doing
strange things. Down behind the battleship’s armor the general din of
action was so confused that the burst of a shell on the superstructure
had not been noticed as distinct from the rest. But to Evans the
combination of symptoms in the metres told a story.
“The antenna or rat-tail of the ’phone set is broken,” he shouted to
Elkins. “Tell Fraser. I’ll see if it can be fixed.” Then turning to
the chief radio electrician and pointing to the generator involved, he
called, “Shut off the juice and don’t turn it on till I tell you.”
Then, seizing a spool of wire and a strong pair of wire-cutting
pliers, he shot out of the room.
A hasty conversation then followed by voice-tube between Elkins and
Captain Fraser in the conning tower, in which arrangement was made for
the use of the next most expeditious channel of communication with the
destroyer flotilla. Just then Fraser, looking out of the conning
tower, saw a figure in dungarees climbing rapidly up the basket mast
like a monkey, with a loose wire trailing from his belt. Evans, coming
on deck, had found the rat-tail, cut away from the antenna by a shell
fragment, sprawling on the deck. Seizing the broken end and securing
it to his belt, he started up the ladder, swinging himself out on the
framework where necessary to avoid leading the rat-tail foul of stays.
As he crawled out at last, clinging like a bee to the chain of
insulators that supported the antenna swaying in mid-air, and groping
for the ends of the broken wires that had converged from the antenna
to the rat-tail, his senses were fairly dazed by the roar and din of
the battle now raging at its height. Shells screeched past him, shells
hit on the decks, shaking the whole ship as they burst, great
fountains of water rose where others fell short and filled the air
with heavy spray. Smoke was pouring from a large, jagged hole in the
deck; and as he clung there, swaying high in the air, he saw a large
whaleboat smashed to matchwood by a shell, fragments of her timbers
flung far into the sea. A fire brigade was running aft over the
splintered deck, the men looking like ants from the great height
whence he caught these fragmentary glimpses of the scene. Every
fifteen seconds consciousness seemed suspended as the _Delaware’s_
twelve sixteen-inch guns let go their salvos—flash, roar, and
concussion fusing in one mighty shock that well-nigh stunned and
paralyzed every faculty. Half-dazed he could only cling each time till
the salvo was over, then renew his efforts to reach the swaying wires;
and each time the spotters in the foretop close by, while waiting for
the smoke to clear and the seconds to elapse before the salvo was due
to reach its mark, looked round to see if he still was there. At last
he reached the wires, and, clinging with both legs and one arm,
managed to join together the broken ends by means of the spool of wire
in his pocket. As he crawled back, he had a momentary glimpse of the
enemy battle cruisers in the west, and could clearly distinguish from
the flash of their gun-fire the red glow of the hits made by the
_Delaware’s_ salvos. The action, as he had seen it earlier when he was
on his way to the radio room, was mild compared to what was going on
now. The _Delaware_ was being heavily pounded, but, supported by the
three battleships next in line, she was scoring more hits on the enemy
than she received, and with heavier shells. Just as he reached the
basket mast, there was a concussion which almost shook him off.
Looking aft he saw fragments of steel flying from the roof of one of
the turrets. With a sinking feeling he realized that in that turret
was Lindsay’s battle station. A moment later some of the turret crew
came scrambling out of the hole the shell had torn. Then to his horror
he saw a great burst of flame shoot from the turret and rise to the
height of the mast.
Descending the basket mast, he shouted to Captain Fraser as he passed
the conning tower, “All ready to use,” and hastened below to the radio
room where he found the generator already humming again at its task of
supplying the power to carry the voice from the conning tower far over
the turbulent waters. And as he watched the metres on the panel he
knew that the transmitter was again carrying the messages that were
directing the work of the fleet. But his heart was sick with the
haunting picture of the flame shooting from Lindsay’s turret.
A flotilla of American destroyers, stationed ahead of the column, was
now racing to attack the battle cruisers with torpedoes.
Simultaneously some thirty more destroyers—all that were left and able
to fight of the forty which had just delivered their attack on the
enemy’s main battle-line—came up from the south to join in this new
attack. Meanwhile the destroyers of the enemy, thrown into confusion
by the unexpected change in affairs, their coördination completely
upset when the flagship of the fleet was put out of action, operated
in haphazard fashion, each virtually “on its own,” darting about like
mad hornets in search of their tormenter. Some of them now came to the
support of the battle cruisers, and engaged in lively dueling with the
American destroyers at close range. But their haphazard attacks
availed little against the team-work by which the Allied flotillas
delivered their concerted torpedo attack.
The Allied fleet had a great advantage in visibility all along the
line. Not only the main battle fleet of the enemy in the southwest,
but also his battle cruisers in the west stood out in bold relief
against the afternoon sky. For this reason, as well as by virtue of
the heavier guns of the Allied battleships and the disconcerting
effect of the torpedo attack, the fire of the battle cruisers soon
became wild and ineffective. Vital hits were being made on them in
increasing numbers, and soon one of them, on fire in several places,
was straddled by a salvo which let the flames into her magazine. With
a blaze that lit the sky she burst into fragments, leaving nothing but
oil and wreckage when the smoke cleared. Another, hit in a starboard
boiler room, was unable to maintain speed, and, to avoid being pounded
to pieces as she dropped astern past the entire battle-line of the
Allies, turned sharply to port and escaped behind her own line of
battleships. The remainder of the battle cruisers, battered and
crippled, drew out of range while still they could, pursued by
destroyers racing after like a pack of hungry greyhounds.
And now the _Delaware_ and those directly astern of her were able to
concentrate their fire once more on the main battle-line of the enemy,
or what was left of it. One turret on the _Delaware_ was out of
action, her funnels and superstructure were riddled with shells, her
decks presented a picture of chaos, but in the main her fighting
strength was scarcely impaired. The Allied battle-line had maintained
a range which rendered them invisible except for the flash of their
guns in the northeastern haze and smoke, while the enemy in silhouette
against the southwestern horizon made good targets for the American
gun-layers. And during the time when the leading ships were compelled
to direct their fire on the enemy battle cruisers, those in the rear
had been pounding away at their corresponding ships in the enemy’s
line, scoring two hits at least to one received, till, with turrets
smashed, control tops gone, bridges shattered, and superstructures
ablaze, the hostile guns were silenced in steadily increasing numbers.
Now, seeing that he had the enemy where he wanted him, Admiral Johnson
closed the range enough to render his gun-fire even more effective.
This brought his ships into view of the enemy, whose gun-fire was so
badly broken that he no longer feared it. Then, as with increasing
deadliness of aim the sixteen-inch guns tore holes in deck and armor,
the shattering of the Mediterranean fleet became more rapid. And as
ship after ship sank, or, out of control and helpless, dropped out of
line, the concentration of fire upon those that remained closed in
like a Nemesis. Two hours after the first salvo from the Allied
battleships the great Mediterranean fleet which had defied the
civilized world was reduced to a straggling line of battered hulks
scattered over the sea in all stages of destruction. Before sunset the
Turkish Admiral had surrendered.
The casualties of the Allies had been surprisingly light, considering
the extent of the action, having fallen most heavily on the scout
cruisers and destroyers, although the battleships had come in for a
good share of pounding, in spite of their advantage in the matter of
visibility. On the _Delaware_ the most serious mishap had been in the
turret from which the ominous flame had shot forth. The members of the
turret crew who had escaped told the story of what happened. A shell
had penetrated the roof of the turret and killed several of the crew.
Their clothing, ignited by the detonating shell, was spreading fire
toward a charge of powder in the loading cage on its way to one of the
guns. Lindsay, in command of the turret, seeing that nothing could
avert the explosion, and shouting, “Clear the turret!” to those about
him, had plunged down through the working chamber into the main trunk
and yelled into the handling room below the order to close the
magazine doors. Instantly the doors had slammed shut, thus cutting off
the magazine from the turret. In another second the fire reached the
powder, filling the entire turret, handling room, and all, with a
blinding flash which instantly killed all those who had not yet made
their escape. Lindsay’s quick action which cut off his hope of escape
had saved the flagship.