THE RAIDER
Two days later, in sight of Mariguana Island, they found the Chilian
bark _San Felipe_, or what was left of her. She had a cargo of rough
lumber aboard and although little remained above-deck the hulk was
still afloat. Shell fire had carried away masts and deck houses and
left gaping wounds in the hull. The _Gyandotte_ sent an officer aboard
and the latter speedily returned with the word that the attack, from
the evidence found, had taken place not over twenty-four hours before.
The ship was deserted and all valuables had been removed. That the deed
had been done by the German raider previously reported was the belief
of officers and men, and what had looked before like a wild-goose
chase suddenly assumed importance. Spirits arose on the cruiser and
for the rest of that day, while she ran southward, every man off duty
elected himself lookout. But finding the raider, about whom little was
known, was a difficult task. They passed a British gunboat just before
evening and exchanged signals, with the result that the _Gyandotte_
turned groaningly back and steamed northward again. Several times
smoke was sighted, but each chase only raised a friendly ship. The
next morning the _Gyandotte_ was out of sight of anything that even
suggested land and doing her best clip, which proved to be nineteen and
a half knots. At noon that day the radio man picked up cheering news
which was posted on the bulletin:
“United States torpedo boat _Benton_ sighted a ship believed to be an
enemy raider at five-thirty o’clock yesterday evening and fired eight
shots but was unable to hit owing to extreme range. The enemy refused
battle and made her escape at about eighteen knots.”
“They might tell us where,” grumbled a young gunner’s mate of Nelson’s
watch. “For all that says it might have been up around Newfoundland!”
But there was a general feeling throughout the ship that the _Benton’s_
encounter with the raider had been rather nearer at hand than that
and that somewhere this side of Bermuda, toward which the cruiser was
scouting, there would be something doing. Foretop and maintop lookout
kept a sharp watch that day, but night closed down over a tumbling sea
without reward. In the wireless house the blue sparks sizzled and spat
busily, and rumors flew about above deck and below incessantly. But
Nelson, like many others, turned in that night a prey to disappointment.
It was shortly before six bells the next forenoon that the welcome,
long-deferred and exciting news went the rounds that the foretop
lookout had sighted smoke. All hands who might crowded forward, but
from the deck nothing was as yet to be seen. It was well over an hour
later when the quarry raised above the horizon sufficiently to be
visible to the crew. Then began a long, hard chase. The _Gyandotte’s_
boilers roared as never before in that ship’s sixteen years of
existence and black smoke belched from her two high funnels and poured
off to port. But after a short while it became evident that the enemy,
if she was the enemy, which there was no reason to doubt, was making
nearly if not quite as good speed. By the middle of the afternoon it
was apparent that there was no hope of overtaking the raider before
dark, if ever, for the _Gyandotte’s_ best effort had gained only a few
miles in the six hours that had elapsed since sighting the quarry.
There were grumbles and mutters uncomplimentary to the _Gyandotte_
amongst the men, and it is not to be doubted that the officers, too,
sighed for something speedier underfoot than the little cruiser. Night
came down quickly, far too quickly to please those on the pursuer, and
the distant shape of the raider faded from vision. That, since she
was plainly refusing battle, she would seek to escape under cover of
darkness by altering her course was a foregone conclusion, and it is
fair to assume that there were many anxious discussions in the ward
room that evening.
All night the _Gyandotte_ plunged ahead at nearly twenty-one miles an
hour. The noise of the engines and the plunging of the ship made sleep
more than difficult for Nelson. Then, too, he was in a condition of
excitement and suspense that sent his thoughts racing toward the morrow
and kept his brain hard at work. And yet he did sleep, just as, if
one was to judge from certain sounds that came from nearby hammocks,
did others, and didn’t awake until reveille sent him tumbling out to
restore his canvas couch to its lashings and make his hasty toilet. He
didn’t have to ask any questions, for the news was hurrying from man
to man that the German was still in sight and that the cruiser had cut
down the lead considerably. If the _Gyandotte_ had felt hurt the day
before by the aspersions cast on her she must have been almost if not
quite placated this morning, for they called her “some little hiker”
and “a bulldog for grit” and approved her heartily.
It was ten when they got their first good look at the enemy. She was
then some ten miles distant, presenting only a stern view, but with
glasses it was possible to form some idea of her. She appeared slightly
larger than the _Gyandotte_, with a good deal to be seen above-deck,
the latter fact suggesting that she was a converted craft of some sort,
possibly a small, fast merchantman. At two bells in the afternoon
watch, just after mess, the shrill sound of the boatswain’s pipe was
heard commanding “Clear ship for action!” and all hands sprang to the
work of stowing loose gear, connecting fire hose, rigging life lines
and performing the almost numberless duties called for. Galley fires
were hauled, lunch served out, ammunition supplied, dressing stations
rigged, circuits tested and blast screens rigged. In a short time the
cruiser was in fighting trim, the men had washed and shifted into clean
underclothes and the battle ensigns were flying at the mastheads. The
crew of Number Four gun hovered impatiently about the platform, one
of them at least suffering inconvenience with his heart which showed
an annoying disposition to travel back and forth between its usual
location and his throat, or to seem to!
Shortly after two o’clock the enemy began the action at a hopeless
range. The shell fell far short of its mark, although the direction
was good. The challenge was answered on the _Gyandotte_ by the bugle
call of General Quarters and the men hurried to stations. A second
shell from the German raider fell short and was followed quickly by a
third which flung up the water close aboard. Not until then did the
_Gyandotte_ reply. Her bow guns spoke, but there were no hits. The
enemy was evidently more desirous of running away than giving battle,
for her firing was desultory and inaccurate for the succeeding quarter
of an hour, during which the pursuer fired seldom and with no effect.
At about eight thousand yards the real music began. It was then about
two-thirty-five and the cruiser was approximately one hundred and
twenty miles southwest of Bermuda. To the enemy went first blood, for a
shell burst on deck forward of the bridge, carrying away part of that
structure and damaging the foremast range finder. But after that it
was the _Gyandotte’s_ battle. The enemy’s after deck was raked clean
five minutes after the main action started and she was repeatedly
hulled during the ensuing fifty minutes. As long as possible she
kept up full speed, but at a few minutes before three those on the
cruiser observed that she had begun to list slightly to starboard and
coincidently her speed diminished and in a short while the _Gyandotte_
was able to open up with her secondary battery.
Number Four gun played its part in the game, and Nelson, passing
fifty-pound shells till the perspiration rolled from his face and
trickled down his bare arms, experienced a savage exaltation as word
came of hits. It was hard, fast work. There was a crash as the shell
sped from the gun. Then the plugman opened the breech, wiped and
inserted the primer. “Bore clear!” cried the first shellman, shoved a
shell into the breech and shut off the air valve. A powderman inserted
a charge in its silk bag and with it rammed home the shell. The plugman
closed the breech and shouted “Ready!” Another roar burst forth. And
so it went. There was no time to wonder or speculate on what was going
on in other parts of the ship. One’s duty was before one and required
every instant of time. Number Four barked with scarcely a let-up for
most of the fifty-odd minutes that the engagement lasted and there were
times toward the end of that period when Nelson found himself working
without conscious effort, mechanically lifting and handing the heavy
shells as though he were only a cog in a machine. His arms and back and
legs ached, but he didn’t know it then. His thoughts went back often to
that midnight of the fourteenth of last October and when they did the
lines of his face set more grimly.
[Illustration: There was a crash as the shell sped from the gun.]
The _Gyandotte_ didn’t escape unscathed, for the enemy scored seven
hits during the battle. One of the cruiser’s guns was early put out
of action and a shell bored its way into a coal bunker and caused
devastation below decks. That the _Gyandotte_ presented only her bow to
the enemy saved her from worse treatment. Less than an hour after the
action had begun, the enemy ship signaled surrender. She was then in
a sinking condition, with her starboard rail well under water. Firing
ceased at three minutes past four and the _Gyandotte_, her men waving
and cheering, steamed slowly toward the defeated enemy and began to
lower her boats.