There were times when Henty had to take shelter from the Austrian fire,
and others when he found himself exposed to that of the friendly army,
whose skirmishers, made plainly visible by their scarlet shirts, began
to send up little puffs of smoke from behind hedges and amongst trees,
while crack! crack! the reports of the rifles rang out and echoed down
the ravines, to die away amongst the distant hills.
Then, too, one of his narrow escapes happened when he was on his way to
Brescia. He had some difficulty in getting there, for every vehicle was
requisitioned for the public service, and he thought himself extremely
lucky in being able to get his luggage sent on, leaving him free to
undertake the walk of some five-and-twenty miles. This was no serious
undertaking to a well-shod athlete, being only one-fifth more than a
tramp across our own Dartmoor, but with this difference, that the home
walk would be through the crisp bracing air some fifteen hundred feet
above the sea, while here the labour was very heavy, the heat of the
Italian July sun being tremendous.
However, just when he had proceeded half-way on his journey, and was
suffering severely from the torrid air, which felt too hot to breathe,
he, little anticipating what was to prove the outcome, congratulated
himself upon what he looked upon as a stroke of luck, for, hearing
wheels behind, he drew up by the side of the road, to stand panting and
wiping his streaming brow, signing to the military driver of a
government cart. This man willingly agreed to give him a lift as his
destination was the same, and explained that he was going to fetch a
load of ice for the benefit of the wounded.
It was rough travelling, but the change from the labour of tramping the
road, which seemed to return the heat of the sun with fivefold power,
was delightful, and the rattle and bumping of the clumsy cart by
contrast became almost an exquisite pleasure.
In this way five more miles were added to those which he had walked, and
in describing the adventure which followed, Henty naively remarks that
doubtless he should have ridden happily the whole distance into Brescia
had not the ill-groomed, blind mare which drew the cart, suddenly
conceived that she was being ill-treated by the addition of this
stranger to her load. She accordingly stopped short and began lashing
out most viciously, nearly breaking the arm of the soldier who was
driving, and then dashed off at full speed. Seeing that she was blind,
her course was not a very long one, and before they had gone far down
the mountain road which gradually grew more and more shelf-like, the
mare's flight became wildly erratic, until she checked herself most
painfully by running her head against the rocks which rose up on their
right. After holding his breath for some time Henty relieved his
overburdened chest in a deep sigh, for he had been debating in those
brief minutes whether he should not risk everything and trust to his
agility to spring out. He now, however, began to breathe freely, and,
dropping down from the cart into the road, he stared about him at his
position, and realised how very near he had been to bringing his
correspondent's task to a sudden end. Had the mare in her blindness
turned to the left instead of the right, horse, cart, and its occupants
would have gone headlong over the low protecting parapet at the side,
deep down a stony precipice, with only one result.
In his matter-of-fact way Henty goes on to say: "This was not a thing to
be tried twice, and I once more set off to walk, and in a mile came to a
village, where by great luck I found a vehicle which brought me into
Brescia in safety."
In his eagerness to obtain the fullest information about the military
proceedings between the opposing armies, Henty never spared himself.
Wherever there was an engagement pending, or taking place, if it were in
the slightest degree possible he would be there, running all risks, and
at any cost; so that when the news came of the possibility of there
being a naval engagement between the Italian and Austrian fleets, it was
only natural that with his sailor-like proclivities Henty should wish to
be present.
As we have seen, he was well provided with introductions and credentials
which facilitated his being with the army; but these hardly seemed
likely to benefit him much with the navy. However, he was not the man
to be daunted by difficulties. If a naval fight did take place, it was
bound to be one of special interest, for though for years past the
old-fashioned wooden walls and two- and three-deckers of this and other
countries had been gradually changing into armour-clads, this was to be
the first occasion when an encounter would take place between the
ponderous monsters. It was an event which would prove, not only to
scientists but to their captains and crews, how they would behave.
The question that arose, therefore, was how the representative of the
_Standard_ could get on board one of the vessels. Doubting what
reception would be given to one who announced himself as a war
correspondent, Henty proceeded, sailor-like, upon another tack. After
the training he had gone through and the work he had done, he considered
himself justified in posing as an engineer eager to grasp exactly what
would take place under fire, and in this character, as a scientific man,
the difficulty was solved, for he was allowed to be present at the naval
battle which took place in the Mediterranean off Lissa, the principal
island of Dalmatia, some forty miles from the mainland, on the 20th of
July, 1866.
It was no trivial affair, but one as worthy of notice as any of the
great battles of history, for the Italian fleet which set sail consisted
of twelve iron-clads and eight wooden frigates, with their attendant gun
and despatch boats.
The island was strongly fortified by the Austrians, and the battle began
with an attack upon the forts, which responded fiercely, and the grim
reality of the encounter was soon learned by those on the iron-clads
when shells began to burst on board. But this attack was only in
anticipation of the coming of the Austrian fleet, which was soon after
signalled as being in sight, and its formidable nature was evident
directly it approached. Its three lines were composed of seven
iron-clads, one wooden ship of the line, five wooden frigates, two
corvettes, and twelve gunboats, the last mentioned carrying six guns
each.
The two fleets were not long in coming to close quarters, and it was
soon proved that sailors could fight as well in iron-clads as in the
towering old wooden craft of yore.
The thunder was deeper from the much heavier modern guns, the impact of
the modern missiles (elongated bolts, not balls) and the crash of the
bursting explosive with which they were charged far more awful; but
amidst the noise, confusion, and deafening explosions the spectator
could grasp but little of what was taking place outside the vessel he
was on.
There was a certain grim novelty about being rammed, and the shock sent
everyone who was not holding on, prostrate, convinced, or at least quite
ready to imagine, that the vessel struck must be sent to the bottom.
But this portion of the encounter did not prove to be so damaging as was
anticipated, probably owing to the close quarters into which the two
fleets were brought, and to the want of impetus of the striking ship.
In fact, as the broadsides were exchanged, and the vessels were passing
and repassing each other, they were in such close neighbourhood that at
times the muzzles of the guns almost touched each other, and the effect
was terrific. Numbers of men were killed on board the vessel upon which
Henty made his mental notes. Shells crashed upon the iron armour, and
were in some cases thrown off, but others passed in through the port
holes and burst inside, committing terrible havoc, while at one time a
broadside was received which glanced off. A vast amount of damage was
done, though, when they ran stem on to the nearest opponent with an
awful crash and then backed off, to see dimly through the smoke that the
Austrian adversary was evidently sinking.
The result was that the Battle of Lissa supplied ample proof of the
consequences following an encounter between two iron-clad fleets; but it
was days after the noise and turmoil of the battle were at an end that
Henty found an opportunity to pay a visit to the Italian fleet with the
object of ascertaining how the various systems of iron-plating had borne
the hammering of the shot and shell during this novel sea-fight.
His first visit was to a vessel of nearly six thousand tons burden, and
before going on board he was pulled slowly round her, stopping from time
to time to examine the shot marks in her side. And now it was
surprising to see how little damage had been done. The shot had made
round dents of four to five inches in diameter, and from one to two and
a half inches deep, but the marks made by the shells in the armour-plate
were more ragged, some of the dents being from eight to twelve inches in
diameter, rough and uneven, while, when a shell had struck where the
plates joined, pieces were broken completely off. Altogether, as far as
her iron armour was concerned, this vessel, which had been engaged for
more than an hour with two or three Austrian iron-clads, came out of the
ordeal remarkably well. Not one of her plates was penetrated, cracked,
or seriously loosened; but on getting round to her stern her weak point
was at once noticeable, and that was the rudder, which was quite
unprotected. Some six or seven feet of the unarmoured stern also was
quite exposed, a fact which resulted in the loss of a sister ship, whose
rudder was disabled almost at the beginning of the contest, so that she
soon became an easy prey to her adversaries.
In the case of the _Re de Porto Gallo_, the vessel Henty visited, her
iron-plating was covered with a casing of wood, some nine inches thick,
to a height of two feet above the water-line, and upon this her copper
sheathing was fastened. The whole of her port bulwark, with the
exception of some fifty feet at the stern, was carried away by a
collision with the adversary, the two vessels grinding together along
their whole length.
On mounting to the deck, Henty goes on to say, he first began to see to
what a terrible fire she had been exposed. Her rigging had been cut to
pieces; black ragged holes where shells had struck and burst were to be
seen; her boats were completely smashed to pieces.
In the case of another vessel, the shot and shell marks were rather
deeper, and the dents and ragged marks of the shells indicated that she
had had to encounter heavier metal, while Henty's keen scrutiny showed
him that the iron-plating which protected her must have been of a much
more brittle nature; but even here it was quite plain to him that the
protection afforded by the ponderous iron plates was most effective, and
it was remarkable, considering how close the adversaries had been
together, that more serious damage had not been done.
In noticing Henty's account of the iron clothing of the Italian fleet,
and the effect upon the ships of the enemy's guns, it must be borne in
mind that some forty years have wrought vast changes in naval warfare,
and it can easily be conceived how different would have been the havoc
wrought if the encounter had been with the armament of such a vessel as,
say our own unfortunate _Montagu_, or the _Sutlej_, with the twin
occupants of its revolving turrets and the ponderous bolt-shaped shells
they could hurl.
These investigations appear to have been of the greatest interest to the
young correspondent, but he was not satisfied; the sailor within him
made itself heard. He was satisfied with the value of armour-plates in
protecting a man-of-war, but he wanted to know how, plated with these
ponderous pieces of iron, such vessels would behave in a heavy sea.
He had not long to wait, for he wrote directly afterwards that there had
been a heavy squall, and one of the iron-clad fleet had had to run for
the harbour, rolling so much from her weight, and shipping so much
water, that she went down; but, fortunately, all hands were saved.
There had been a day of intense heat. The next morning it was hot and
close without a breath of wind, and Henty states that he had been rowed
across the harbour for his morning dip. At that time there was not a
ripple upon the water, but on his return at nine o'clock the sky was
becoming a good deal overcast, while about half-past ten he was a
witness of one of the squalls peculiar to the Mediterranean, and made
familiar to old-fashioned people in the words and music of "The White
Squall." Sheets of water, without the least preliminary warning,
dropped suddenly from the clouds; the furious wind tore along, driving
before it every light object; outdoor chairs and tables were swept away,
and the wind was master of everything for about twenty minutes. When
the fierce storm had passed on, and the rain had ceased, he, knowing
what the consequences of such a raging tempest must be, hurried down to
the landing-place to note what the sea had done.
He was astounded. His first looks were directed at the iron-clads.
They were lying at anchor, and rolling bulwark-deep in so alarming a
manner that it was fully proved to him that, had necessity forced them
to go into action, they could not have opened their port-holes to work
their guns, for had they done so they would certainly have been swamped.
Nature seemed to be mocking at the ponderous vessels, and green seas
were rushing completely along the decks of the iron-clad which
afterwards foundered.
He could see at the time by means of a telescope that the crew were
engaged in dragging tarpaulins over her hatchways, while from the
funnels of the whole fleet dense clouds of black smoke were rolling up,
as the engineers were evidently working hard to get up steam, so as to
relieve the strain upon their anchors, or to enable their captains to
shift their berths. Later he could see that several of the vessels had
taken shelter in the harbour, but the _Affondatore_ was still in her
berth, with her engines hard at work going ahead to relieve the strain
upon her anchor.
Speaking as one accustomed to the sea, he was under the impression that
the captain was afraid to make for the harbour, outside which the vessel
lay, for to have done so would have necessitated his exposing her
broadside to the tremendous waves, which, though the sea had somewhat
subsided, still swept right over her bows. These were now apparently
two or three feet lower than the stern, so that at the utmost the
ponderous vessel was only six feet out of the water altogether, and she
looked as if she had taken a great deal of water on board.
At length, as Henty watched, he began to see that she was changing her
position. Her head turned slowly towards the harbour, her main-sail was
set to steady her, and she began to steam slowly in. But in spite of
the sail that had been hoisted she rolled heavily, and by degrees seemed
to have lost all power of riding over the waves, which now made a clean
sweep over her, until at times he lost sight of her bow for some seconds
together.
At last, after expecting from time to time to see her founder, he saw
that she had reached the harbour in safety, to anchor just inside the
end of the mole, some three hundred yards from shore, and, growing
excited as he felt in doubt about her position, he jumped into a boat
and pulled out to her, to find that her bow was not above two feet out
of water, while her stern was a foot higher than it had been on the
previous day. In spite of man-of-war order, a good deal of excitement
evidently prevailed. The crew were busily engaged in relieving her bows
by carrying all weight as far aft as possible, and evidence of the peril
of her position was plainly shown by the engines being hard at work
pumping.
So he began to feel hopeful that as the vessel was now in still water
she would be safe, but the hope was vain. Either recent repairs over
the shot holes received in action had given way, or some of her upper
plating, weakened by a shot, had opened with the strain. Whatever was
wrong, as Henty watched he could see that she was getting lower in the
water, which in little more than another half-hour was level with her
bow.
Then it was that, feeling that it was impossible to do more, orders were
given which resulted in the boats being lowered, and with discipline
well preserved they were manned, while launches came out to her
assistance and took off the crew to the last man.
It was a painful scene which soon followed. The grand vessel's bow was
now some distance below the surface, while the stern still maintained
its buoyancy; but all at once, as if the iron-clad monster were making a
desperate struggle for life, she gave a sudden heavy roll before
steadying herself, and remained in her proper position with only a
slight list to starboard. Then she sank slowly and calmly, and all was
over with the gallant ship.
Henty described at length the battle of Lissa, of which no better
account could have been given than that of this unbiased spectator; but
upon the appearance of a lengthy official report, he did not hesitate to
turn stern critic and fall foul of the brag and bombast which disfigured
its columns. No doubt to flatter Italian pride this was so full of
inflation, that the English correspondent flatly compared it with the
never-to-be-forgotten narrative delivered by the stout knight to Prince
Hal and his companions.