CHAPTER XIV

REVOLUTION IN NAVAL WARFARE: HAMPTON ROADS AND LISSA.

During the 19th century, from 1815 to 1898, naval power, though

always an important factor in international relations, played in

general a passive rôle. The wars which marked the unification of

Germany and Italy and the thrusting back of Turkey from the Balkans

were fought chiefly on land. The navy of England, though never

more constantly busy in protecting her far-flung empire, was not

challenged to a genuine contest for mastery of the seas. In the

Greek struggle for independence there were two naval engagements

of some consequence--Chios (1822), where the Greeks with fireships

destroyed a Turkish squadron and gained temporary control of the

Ægean, and Navarino (1827), in which a Turkish force consisting

principally of frigates was wiped out by a fleet of the western

powers. But both of these actions were one-sided, and showed nothing

new in types or tactics. In the American Civil War control of the

sea was important and even decisive, but was overwhelmingly in the

hands of the North. Hence the chief naval interest of the period

lies not so much in the fighting as in the revolutionary changes in

ships, weapons, and tactics--changes which parallel the extraordinary

scientific progress of the century; and the engagements may be

studied now, as they were studied then, as testing and illustrating

the new methods and materials of naval war.

_Changes in Ships and Weapons_

Down to the middle of the 19th century there had been only a slow

and slight development in ships and weapons for a period of nearly

300 years. A sailor of the Armada would soon have felt at home in

a three-decker of 1815. But he would have been helpless as a child

in the fire-driven iron monsters that fought at Hampton Roads. The

shift from sail to steam, from oak to iron, from shot to shell, and

from muzzle-loading smoothbore to breech-loading rifle began about

1850; and progress thereafter was so swift that an up-to-date ship

of each succeeding decade was capable of defeating a whole squadron

of ten years before. Success came to depend on the adaptability

and mechanical skill of personnel, as well as their courage and

discipline, and also upon the progressive spirit of constructors

and naval experts, faced with the most difficult problems, the

wrong solution of which would mean the waste of millions of dollars

and possible defeat in war. Every change had to overcome the spirit

of conservatism inherent in military organizations, where seniority

rules, errors are sanctified by age, and every innovation upsets

cherished routine. Thus in the contract for Ericsson's _Monitor_

it was stipulated that she should have masts, spars, and sails!

The first successful steamboat for commerce was, as is well known,

Robert Fulton's flat-bottomed side-wheeler _Clermont_, which in

August, 1807, made the 150 miles from New York to Albany in 32

hours. During the war of 1812 Fulton designed for coast defense

a heavily timbered, double-ender floating battery, with a single

paddle-wheel located inside amidships. On her trial trip in 1815

this first steam man-of-war, the U. S. S. _Fulton_, carried 26 guns

and made over 6 knots, but she was then laid up and was destroyed

a few years later by fire. Ericsson's successful application of

the screw propeller in 1837 made steam propulsion more feasible

for battleships by clearing the decks and eliminating the clumsy

and exposed side-wheels. The first American screw warship was the

U. S. S. _Princeton_, of 1843, but every ship in the American Navy

at the outbreak of the Civil War had at least auxiliary sail rig.

Though by 1850 England had 30 vessels with auxiliary steam, the

_Devastation_ of 1869 was the first in the British service to use

steam exclusively. Long after this time old "floating museums"

with sail rig and smoothbores were retained in most navies for

motives of economy, and even the first ships of the American "White

Squadron" were encumbered with sails and spars.

[Illustration: EARLY IRONCLADS]

Progress in ordnance began about 1822, when explosive shells, hitherto

used only in mortars, were first adopted for ordinary cannon with

horizontal fire. At the time of the Crimean War shells were the

usual ammunition for lower tier guns, and at Sinope in 1853 their

smashing effect against wooden hulls was demonstrated when a Russian

squadron destroyed some Turkish vessels which fired only solid

shot. The great professional cry of the time, we are told, became

"For God's sake, keep out the shell."[1]

[Footnote 1: Custance, THE SHIP OF THE LINE IN BATTLE, p. 9.]

In 1851 Minié rifles supplanted in the British army the old smoothbore

musket or "Brown Bess," with which at ranges above 200 yards it was

difficult to hit a target 11 feet square. This change led quickly

to the rifling of heavy ordnance as well. The first Armstrong rifles

of 1858--named after their inventor, Sir William Armstrong, head

of the Royal Gun Factory at Woolwich--included guns up to 7-inch

diameter of bore. The American navy, however, depended chiefly

on smoothbores throughout the Civil War.

Breech-loading, which had been used centuries earlier, came in

again with these first rifles, but after 1865 the British navy

went back to muzzle-loading and stuck to it persistently for the

next 15 years. By that time the breech-loading mechanism had been

simplified, and its adoption became necessary to secure greater length

of gun barrel, increased rapidity of fire, and better protection for

gun-crews. About 1880 quick-fire guns of from 3 to 6 inches, firing

12 or 15 shots a minute, were mounted in secondary batteries.

As already suggested, the necessity for armor arose from the smashing

and splintering effect of shell against wooden targets and the

penetrating power of rifled guns. To attack Russian forts in the

Crimea, the French navy in 1855 built three steam-driven floating

batteries, the _Tonnant, Lave_, and _Dévastation_, each protected

by 4.3-inch plates and mounting 8 56-lb. guns. In the reduction of

the Kinburn batteries, in October of the same year, these boats

suffered little, but were helped out by an overwhelming fire from

wooden ships, 630 guns against 81 in the forts.

The French armored ship _Gloire_ of 1859 caused England serious worry

about her naval supremacy, and led at once to H. M. S. _Warrior_,

like the _Gloire_, full rigged with auxiliary steam. The _Warrior's_

4.5-inch armor, extending from 6 feet below the waterline to 16 feet

above and covering about 42 per cent of the visible target, was

proof against the weapons of the time. At this initial stage in

armored construction, naval experts turned with intense interest

to watch the work of ironclads against ships and forts in the

American Civil War.

_The American Civil War_

The naval activities of this war are too manifold to follow in

detail. For four years the Union navy was kept constantly occupied

with the tasks of blockading over 3000 miles of coast-line, running

down enemy commerce destroyers, cooperating with the army in the

capture of coast strongholds, and opening the Mississippi and other

waterways leading into the heart of the Confederacy. To make the

blockade effective and cut off the South from the rest of the world,

the Federal Government unhesitatingly applied the doctrine of

"continuous voyage," seizing and condemning neutral ships even when

bound from England to Bermuda or the Bahamas, if their cargo was

ultimately destined for Southern ports. The doctrine was declared

inapplicable when the last leg of the journey was by land,[1] doubtless

because there was little danger of heavy traffic across the Mexican

frontier. Blockade runners continued to pour goods into the South

until the fall of Fort Fisher in 1865; but as the blockade became

more stringent, it crippled the finances of the Confederacy, shut

out foodstuffs and munitions, and shortened, if it did not even

have a decisive effect in winning the war.

[Footnote 1: Peterhoff Case, 1866 (5 Wall, 28).]

To meet these measures the South was at first practically without

naval resources, and had to turn at once to new methods of war. Its

first move was to convert the steam frigate _Merrimac_, captured

half-burned with the Norfolk Navy Yard, into an ironclad ram. A

casemate of 4 inches of iron over 22 inches of wood, sloping 35

degrees from the vertical, was extended over 178 feet, or about

two-thirds of her hull. Beyond this structure the decks were awash.

The _Merrimac_ had an armament of 6 smoothbores and 4 rifles, two

of the latter being pivot-guns at bow and stern, and a 1500-lb.

cast-iron beak or ram. With her heavy load of guns and armor she

drew 22 feet aft and could work up a speed of barely 5 knots.

Faced with this danger, the North hurriedly adopted Ericsson's

plan for the _Monitor_,[2] which was contracted for on October

4, 1861, and launched after 100 days. Old marlin-spike seamen

pooh-poohed this "cheesebox on a raft." As a naval officer said,

it might properly be worshiped by its designer, for it was an image

of nothing in the heavens above, or the earth beneath, or the waters

under the earth. It consisted of a revolving turret with 8-inch

armor and two 11-inch smoothbore guns, set on a raft-like structure

142 feet in length by 41-1/2 feet in beam, projecting at bow, stern,

and sides beyond a flat-bottomed lower hull. Though unseaworthy,

the _Monitor_ maneuvered quickly and drew only 10-1/2 feet. She

was first ordered to the Gulf, but on March 6 this destination

was suddenly changed to the Chesapeake.

[Footnote 2: So called by Ericsson because it would "admonish"

the South, and also suggest to England "doubts as to the propriety

of completing four steel-clad ships at three and one-half millions

apiece."]

The South in fact won the race in construction and got its ship

first into action by a margin of just half a day. At noon on March

8, with the iron-workers still driving her last rivets, the _Merrimac_

steamed out of Norfolk and advanced ponderously upon the three sail

and two steam vessels then anchored in Hampton Roads.

In the Northern navy there had been much skepticism about the ironclad

and no concerted plan to meet her attack. Under a rain of fire

from the Union ships, and from share fortifications too distant

to be effective, the _Merrimac_ rammed and sank the sloop-of-war

_Cumberland_, and then, after driving the frigate _Congress_ aground,

riddled her with shells. Towards nightfall the Confederate vessel

moved dawn stream, to continue the slaughter next day.

About 12 o'clock that night, after two days of terrible buffeting

on the voyage down the coast, the little _Monitor_ anchored on

the scene lighted up by the burning wreck of the _Congress_. The

first battle of ironclads began next morning at 8:30 and continued

with slight intermission till noon. It ended in a triumph, not

for either ship, but for armor over guns. The _Monitor_ fired 41

solid shot, 20 of which struck home, but merely cracked some of

the _Merrimac's_ outer plates. The _Monitor_ was hit 22 times by

enemy shells. Neither craft was seriously harmed and not a man was

killed on either side, though several were stunned or otherwise

injured. Lieut. Worden, in command of the _Monitor_, was nearly

blinded by a shell that smashed in the pilot house, a square iron

structure then located not above the turret but on the forward

deck.

The drawn battle was hailed as a Northern victory. Imagination

had been drawing dire pictures of what the _Merrimac_ might do. At

a Cabinet meeting in Washington Sunday morning, March 9, Secretary

of War Stanton declared: "The _Merrimac_ will change the course of

the war; she will destroy _seriatim_ every naval vessel; she will

lay all the cities on the seaboard under contribution. I have no

doubt that the enemy is at this minute on the way to Washington, and

that we shall have a shell from one of her guns in the White House

before we leave this room." The menace was somewhat exaggerated. With

her submerged decks, feeble engines, and general awkwardness, the

_Merrimac_ could scarcely navigate in Hampton Roads. In the first

day's fighting her beak was wrenched off and a leak started, two

guns were put out of action, and her funnel and all other top-hamper

were riddled. As was shown by Farragut in Mobile Bay, and again by

Tegetthoff at Lissa, even wooden vessels, if in superior numbers,

might do something against an ironclad in an aggressive mêlée.

Both the antagonists at Hampton Roads ended their careers before

the close of 1862; the _Merrimac_ was burned by her crew at the

evacuation of Norfolk, and the _Monitor_ was sunk under tow in a

gale off Hatteras. But turret ships, monitors, and armored gunboats

soon multiplied in the Union navy and did effective service against

the defenses of Southern harbors and rivers. Under Farragut's energetic

leadership, vessels both armored and unarmored passed with relatively

slight injury the forts below New Orleans, at Vicksburg, and at the

entrance to Mobile Bay. Even granting that the shore artillery was

out of date and not very expertly served, it is well to realize that

similar conditions may conceivably recur, and that the superiority

of forts over ships is qualified by conditions of equipment and

personnel.

Actually to destroy or capture shore batteries by naval force is

another matter. As Ericsson said, "A single shot will sink a ship,

while 100 rounds cannot silence a fort."[1] Attacks of this kind

against Fort McAllister and Charleston failed. At Charleston, April

7, 1863, the ironclads faced a cross-fire from several forts, 47

smoothbores and 17 rifles against 29 smoothbores and 4 rifles in

the ships, and in waters full of obstructions and mines.

[Footnote 1: Wilson, IRONCLADS IN ACTION, Vol. I, p. 91.]

The capture of Fort Fisher, commanding the main entrance to Wilmington,

North Carolina, was accomplished in January, 1865, by the combined

efforts of the army and navy. The fort, situated on a narrow neck

of land between the Cape Fear River and the sea, had 20 guns on

its land face and 24 on its sea face, 15 of them rifled. Against

it were brought 5 ironclads with 18 guns, backed up by over 200

guns in the rest of the fleet. After a storm of shot and shell

for three successive days, rising at times to "drum-fire," the

barrage was lifted at a signal and troops and sailors dashed forward

from their positions on shore. Even after this preparation the

capture cost 1000 men. As at Kinhurn in the Crimean War, the

effectiveness of the naval forces was due less to protective armor

than to volume of fire.

_Submarines and Torpedoes_

In the defense of Southern harbors, mines and torpedoes for the

first time came into general use, and the submarine scored its

first victim. Experiments with these devices had been going on

for centuries, but were first brought close to practical success

by David Bushnell, a Connecticut Yankee of the American Revolution.

His tiny submarine, resembling a mud-turtle standing on its tail,

embodied many features of modern underwater boats, including a

primitive conning tower, screw propulsion (by foot power), a vertical

screw to drive the craft down, and a detachable magazine with 150

pounds of gunpowder. The _Turtle_ paddled around and even under

British men-of-war off New York and New London, but could not drive

a spike through their copper bottoms to attach its mine.

Robert Fulton, probably the greatest genius in nautical invention,

carried the development of bath mines and submarines much further.

His _Nautilus_, so-called because its collapsible sail resembled

that of the familiar chambered nautilus, was surprisingly ahead of

its time; it had a fish-like shape, screw propulsion (by a two-man

hand winch), horizontal diving rudder, compressed air tank, water

tank filled or emptied by a pump, and a torpedo[1] consisting of

a detachable case of gunpowder. A lanyard ran from the torpedo

through an eye in a spike, to be driven in the enemy hull, and

thence to the submarine, which as it moved away brought the torpedo

up taut against the spike and caused its explosion. Fulton interested

Napoleon in his project, submerged frequently for an hour or more,

and blew up a hulk in Brest harbor. But the greybeards in the French

navy frowned on these novel methods, declaring them "immoral" and

"contrary to the laws of war."

[Footnote 1: This name, coined by Fulton, was from the _torpedo

electricus_, or cramp fish, which kills its victim by electric

shock.]

[Illustration: BUSHNELL'S TURTLE]

Later the British Government entered into negotiations with the

inventor, and in October, 1804, used his mines in an unsuccessful

attack an the French flotilla of invasion at Boulogne. Only one

pinnace was sunk. Fulton still maintained that he could "sweep

all military marines off the ocean."[2] But Trafalgar ended his

chances. As the old Admiral Earl St. Vincent remarked, "Pitt [the

Prime Minister] would be the greatest fool that ever existed to

encourage a mode of war which they who command the sea do not want

and which if successful would deprive them of it." So Fulton took

£15,000 and dropped his schemes.

[Footnote 2: Letter to Pitt, Jan. 6, 1806.]

[Illustration: FULTON'S NAUTILUS]

Much cruder than the _Nautilus_, owing to their hurried construction,

were the Confederate "Davids" of the Civil War. One of these launches,

which ran only semi-submerged, drove a spar torpedo against the

U. S. S. _New Ironsides_ off Charleston, but it exploded on the

rebound, too far away. The C. S. S. _Hunley_ was a real submarine,

and went down readily, but on five occasions it failed to emerge

properly, and drowned in these experiments about 35 men. In August,

1864, running on the surface, it sank by torpedo the U. S. Corvette

_Housatonic_ off Charleston, but went down in the suction of the

larger vessel, carrying to death its last heroic crew.

By the end of the century, chiefly owing to the genius and patient

efforts of two American inventors, John P. Holland and Simon Lake,

the submarine was passing from the experimental to the practical

stage. Its possibilities were increased by the Whitehead torpedo

(named after its inventor, a British engineer established in Fiume,

Austria), which came out in 1868 and was soon adopted in European

navies. With gyroscopic stabilizing devices and a "warmer" for the

compressed air of its engine, the torpedo attained before 1900

a speed of 28 knots and a possible range of 1000 yards. Its first

victim was the Chilean warship _Blanco_, sunk in 1891 at 50 yards

after two misses. Thornycroft in England first achieved speed for

small vessels, and in 1873 began turning out torpedo boats. Destroyers

came in twenty years later, and by the end of the century were

making over 30 knots.

Long before this time the lessons of the Civil War had hastened the

adoption of armor, the new ships ranging from high-sided vessels

with guns in broadside, as in the past, to low freeboard craft

influenced by the _Monitor_ design, with a few large guns protected

by revolving turrets or fixed barbettes, and with better provision

for all-around fire. Ordnance improved in penetrating power, until

the old wrought-iron armor had to be 20 inches thick and confined

to waterline and batteries. Steel "facing" and the later plates of

Krupp or Harveyized steel made it possible again to lighten and

spread out the armor, and during the last decade of the century

it steadily increased its ascendancy over the gun.

_The Battle of Lissa_

The adoption of armor meant sacrifice of armament, and a departure

from Farragut's well-tried maxim, "The best protection against the

enemy's fire is a well-sustained fire from your own guns." Thus

the British _Dreadnought_ of 1872 gave 35% of its displacement to

armor and only 5% to armament. Invulnerability was secured at the

expense of offensive power. That aggressive tactics and weapons

retained all their old value in warfare was to receive timely

illustration in the Battle of Lissa, fought in the year after the

American war. The engagement illustrated also another of Farragut's

pungent maxims to the effect that iron in the ships is less important

than "iron in the men"--a saying especially true when, as with the

Austrians at Lissa, the iron is in the chief in command.

In 1866 Italy and Prussia attacked Austria in concert, Italy having

secured from Bismarck a pledge of Venetia in the event of victory.

Though beaten at Custozza on June 24, the Italians did their part

by keeping busy an Austrian army of 80,000. Moltke crushed the

northern forces of the enemy at Sadowa on July 3, and within three

weeks had reached the environs of Vienna and practically won the

war. Lissa was fought on July 20, just 6 days before the armistice.

This general political and military situation should be borne in

mind as throwing some light on the peculiar Italian strategy in

the Lissa campaign.

Struggling Italy, her unification under the House of Piedmont as

yet only partly achieved, had shown both foresight and energy in

building up a fleet. Her available force on the day of Lissa consisted

of 12 armored ships and 16 wooden steam vessels of same fighting

value. The ironclads included 7 armored frigates, the best of which

were the two "kings," _Re d'Italia_ and _Re di Portogallo_, built

the year before in New York (rather badly, it is said), each armed

with about 30 heavy rifles. Then there was the new single-turret

ram _Affondatore_, or "Sinker," with two 300-pounder 10-inch rifles,

which came in from England only the day before the battle. Some

of the small protected corvettes and gunboats were of much less

value, the _Palestro_, for instance, which suffered severely in

the fight, having a thin sheet of armor over only two-fifths of

her exposed hull.

The Austrian fleet had the benefit of some war experience against

Denmark in the North Sea two years before, but it was far inferior

and less up-to-date, its armored ships consisting of 7 screw frigates

armed chiefly with smoothbores. Of the wooden ships, there were

7 screw frigates and corvettes, 9 gunboats and schooners, and 3

little side-wheelers--a total of 19. The following table indicates

the relative strength:

--------------------------------------------------------------------

|Armored | Wooden |Small craft| Total | Rifles |Total w't

|--------|--------|-----------|--------|----------|of metal

|No.|Guns|No.|Guns| No.| Guns |No.|Guns|No.|Weight|

--------|---|----|---|----|----|------|---|----|---|------|---------

Austria | 7| 176| 7| 304| 12 | 52 | 22| 532|121| 7,130| 23,538

Italy | 12| 243| 11| 382| 5 | 16 | 28| 641|276|28,700| 53,236

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Thus in general terms the Italians were nearly twice as strong

in main units, could fire twice as heavy a weight of metal from

all their guns, and four times as heavy from their rifles. Even

without the _Affondatore_, their advantage was practically as great

as this from the beginning of the war.

With such a preponderance, it would seem as if Persano, the Italian

commander in chief, could easily have executed his savage-sounding

orders to "sweep the enemy from the Adriatic, and to attack and

blockade them wherever found." He was dilatory, however, in assembling

his fleet, negligent in practice and gun drill, and passive in his

whole policy to a degree absolutely ruinous to morale. War was

declared June 20, and had long been foreseen; yet it was June 25

before he moved the bulk of his fleet from Taranto to Ancona in

the Adriatic. Here on the 27th they were challenged by 13 Austrian

ships, which lay off the port cleared for action for two hours, while

Persano made no real move to fight. It is said that the Italian

defeat at Custozza three days before had taken the heart out of

him. On July 8 he put to sea for a brief three days' cruise and

went through some maneuvers and signaling but no firing, though

many of the guns were newly mounted and had never been tried by

their crews.

At this time Napoleon III of France had already undertaken mediation

between the hostile powers. In spite of the orders of June 8, quoted

above, which seem sufficiently definite, and urgent orders to the

same effect later, Persano was unwilling to take the offensive,

and kept complaining of lack of clear instructions as to what he

should do. He was later convicted of cowardice and negligence;

but the campaign he finally undertook against Lissa was dangerous

enough, and it seems possible that some secret political maneuvering

was partly responsible for his earlier delay.[1]

[Footnote 1: In July Persano wrote to the Deputy Boggio: "Leave the

care of my reputation to me; I would rather be wrongly dishonored

than rightly condemned. Patience will bring peace; I shall be called

a traitor, but nevertheless Italy will have her fleet intact, and

that of Austria will be rendered useless." Quoted in Bernotti,

IL POTERE MARITTIMO NELLA GRANDE GUERRA, p. 177.]

It is significant at least that the final proposal to make a descent

upon the fortified island of Lissa came not from Persana but from

the Minister of Marine. On July 15 the latter took up the project

with the fleet chief of staff, d'Amico, and with Rear Admiral Vacca,

but not until later with Persano. All agreed that the prospect

of a truce allowed no time for a movement against Venice or the

Austrian base at Pola, but that they should strike a swift stroke

elsewhere. Lissa commanded the Dalmatian coast, was essential to

naval control in the Adriatic, and was coveted by Italy then as

in later times. It would be better than trying to crush the enemy

fleet at the risk of her own if she could enter the peace conference

with possession of Lissa a _fait accompli_.

Undertaken in the face of an undefeated enemy fleet, this move has

been justly condemned by naval strategists. But with a less alert

opponent the coup might have succeeded. Tegetthoff, the Austrian

commander, was not yet 41 years of age, but had been in active

naval service since he was 18, and had led a squadron bravely in

a fight with the Danes two years before off Heligoland. He had

his heterogeneous array of fighting craft assembled at Pola at

the outbreak of war. "Give me everything you have," he told the

Admiralty when they asked him what ships he wanted; "I'll find

some use for them." His crews were partly men of Slav and Italian

stock from the Adriatic coast, including 600 from Venice; there

is no reason for supposing them better than those of Persano. The

influence of their leader, however, inspired them with loyalty and

fighting spirit, and their defiance of the Italians at Ancona on

June 27 increased their confidence. When successive cable messages

from Lissa satisfied him that the Italian fleet was not attempting

a diversion but was actually committed to an attack on the island,

Tegetthoff set out thither on July 19 with his entire fighting

force. His order of sailing was the order of battle. "Every captain

knew the admiral's intention as well as the admiral himself did;

every officer knew what had to be done, and every man had some

idea of it, and above all knew that he had to fight."[1]

[Footnote 1: Laughton, STUDIES IN NAVAL HISTORY, Tegetthoff, p. 164.]

In the meantime the Italian drive on Lissa had gone ahead slowly.

The island batteries were on commanding heights and manned by marines

and artillerymen resolved to fight to the last ditch. During the

second day's bombardment the _Affondatore_ appeared, and also some

additional troops needed to complete the landing force. Two-thirds

of the guns on shore were silenced that day, and if the landing

operations had been pushed, the island captured, and the fleet

taken into the protected harbor of St. Giorgio, Tegetthoff would

have had a harder problem to solve. But as the mist blew away with

a southerly wind at 10 o'clock on the next day, July 20, the weary

garrison on the heights of the island gave cheer after cheer as

they saw the Austrian squadron plunging through the head seas at

full speed from the northeastward, while the Italian ships hurriedly

drew together north of the island to meet the blow.

The Austrians advanced in three successive divisions, ironclads,

wooden frigates, and finally the smaller vessels, each in a wedge-shaped

formation (shown by the diagram), with the apex toward the enemy.

The object was to drive through the Italian line if possible near

the van and bring on a close scrimmage in which all ships could

take part, ramming tactics could be employed, and the enemy would

profit less by their superiority in armor and guns. Like Nelson's at

Trafalgar, Tegetthoff's formation was one not likely to be imitated,

but it was at least simple and well understood, and against a passive

resistance it gave the results planned.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LISSA, JULY 20, 1866]

"_Ecco i pescatori!_" (Here come the fishermen), cried Persana,

with a scorn he was far from actually feeling. The Italians were

in fact caught at a disadvantage. One of their best ships, the

_Formidabile_, had been put _hors de combat_ by the batteries

on the day before. Another, coming in late from the west end of

the island, took no part in the action. The wooden ships, owing

to the cowardice of their commander, Albini, also kept out of the

fight, though Persano signaled desperately to them to enter the

engagement and "surround the enemy rear." With his remaining ironclads

Persano formed three divisions of three ships each and swung across

the enemy's bows in line ahead. Just at the critical moment, and

for no very explicable motive, he shifted his flag from the _Re

d'Italia_ in the center to the _Affondatore_, which was steaming

alone on the starboard side of the line. The change was not noted

by all his ships, and thus caused confusion of orders. The delay

involved also left a wider gap between van and center, and through

this the Austrians plunged, Tegetthoff in his flagship _Erzherzog

Ferdinand Max_ leading the way.

Here orderly formation ended, and only the more striking episodes

stand out in a desperate close combat, during which the black ships

of Austria and the gray of Italy rammed or fired into each other

amid a smother of smoke and spray. The Austrian left flank and

rear held up the Italian van; the Austrian ironclads engaged the

Italian center; and the wooden ships of the Austrian middle division,

led by the 92-gun _Kaiser_, smashed into the Italian rear. Of all

the Austrian ships, the big _Kaiser_, a relic of other days, saw

the hardest fighting. Twice she avoided the _Affondatore's_ ram,

and she was struck by one of her 300-pound projectiles. Then the

_Re di Portogallo_ bore down, but Petz, the _Kaiser's_ captain,

rang for full speed ahead and steered for the ironclad, striking

a glancing blow and scraping past her, while both ships poured in

a heavy fire. The _Kaiser_ soon afterward drew out of the action,

her foremast and funnel down, and a bad blaze burning amidships.

Altogether she fired 850 rounds in the action, or about one-fifth

of the total fired by the Austrians, and she received 80 hits,

again one-fifth of the total. Of the 38 Austrians killed and 138

wounded in the battle, she lost respectively 24 and 75.

The _Kaiser's_ combat, though more severe, was typical of what

was going on elsewhere. The Italian gunboat _Palestro_ was forced

to withdraw to fight a fire that threatened her magazines. The

_Re d'Italia_, which was at first supposed by the Austrians to be

Persano's flagship, was a center of attack and had her steering

gear disabled. As she could go only straight ahead or astern, the

Austrian flagship seized the chance and rammed her squarely amidships

at full speed, crashing through her armor and opening an immense

hole. The Italian gunboat heeled over to starboard, then back again,

and in a few seconds went down, with a loss of 381 men.

This spectacular incident practically decided the battle. After

an hour's fighting the two squadrons drew apart about noon, the

Austrians finally entering St. Giorgio harbor and the Italians

withdrawing to westward. During the retreat the fire on the _Palestro_

reached her ammunition and she blew up with a loss of 231 of her

crew. Except in the two vessels destroyed, the Italian losses were

slight--8 killed and 40 wounded. But the armored ships were badly

battered, and less than a month later the _Affondatore_ sank in a

squall in Ancona harbor, partly, it was thought, owing to injuries

received at Lissa.

For a long time after this fight, an exaggerated view was held

regarding the value of ramming, line abreast formation, and bow

fire. Weapons condition tactics, and these tactics of Tegetthoff

were suited to the means he had to work with. But they were not

those which should have been adopted by his opponents; nor would

they have been successful had the Italians brought their broadsides

to bear on a parallel course and avoided a mêlée. What the whole

campaign best illustrates--and the lesson has permanent interest--is

how a passive and defensive policy, forced upon the Italian fleet

by the incompetence of its admiral or otherwise, led to its

demoralization and ultimate destruction. After a long period of

inactivity, Persano weakened his force against shore defenses before

he had disposed of the enemy fleet, and was then taken at a

disadvantage. His passive strategy was reflected in his tactics.

He engaged with only a part of his force, and without a definite

plan; "A storm of signals swept over his squadron" as it went into

action. What really decided the battle was not the difference in

ships, crews, or weapons, but the difference in aggressiveness

and ability of the two admirals in command.

_The Battle of the Yalu_

Twenty-eight years elapsed after Lissa before the next significant

naval action, the Battle of the Yalu, between fleets of China and

Japan. Yet the two engagements may well be taken together, since

at the Yalu types and tactics were still transitional, and the

initial situation at Lissa was duplicated--line abreast against

line ahead. The result, however, was reversed, for the Japanese

in line ahead took the initiative, used their superior speed to

conduct the battle on their own terms, and won the day.

Trouble arose in the Far East over the dissolution of the decrepit

monarchy of Korea, upon which both Japan and China cast covetous

eyes. As nominal suzerain, China in the spring of 1894 sent 2000

troops to Korea to suppress an insurrection, without observing

certain treaty stipulations which required her to notify Japan. The

latter nation despatched 5000 men to Chemulpo in June. Hostilities

broke out on July 25, when four fast Japanese cruisers, including the

_Naniwa Kan_ under the future Admiral Togo, fell upon the Chinese

cruiser _Tsi-yuen_ and two smaller vessels, captured the latter

and battered the cruiser badly before she got away, and then to

complete the day's work sank a Chinese troop transport, saving

only the European officers on board.

After this affair the Chinese Admiral Ting, a former cavalry officer

but with some naval experience, favored taking the offensive, since

control of the sea by China would at once decide the war. But the

Chinese Foreign Council gave him orders not to cruise east of a

line from Shantung to the mouth of the Yalu. Reverses on land soon

forced him to give all his time to troop transportation, and this

occupied both navies throughout the summer.

On September 16, the day before the Battle of the Yalu, the Chinese

battleships escorted transports with 5000 troops to the mouth of

the Yalu, and on the following morning they were anchored quietly

outside the river. "For weeks," writes an American naval officer

who was in command of one of the Chinese battleships, "we had

anticipated an engagement, and had had daily exercise at general

quarters, etc., and little remained to be done.... The fleet went

into action as well prepared as it was humanly possible for it

to be with the same officers and men, handicapped as they were

by official corruption and treachery ashore."[1] As the midday

meal was in preparation, columns of black smoke appeared to

southwestward. The squadron at once weighed anchor, cleared for

action, and put on forced draft, while "dark-skinned men, with

queues tightly coiled around their heads, and with arms bare to the

elbow, clustered along the decks in groups at the guns, waiting to

kill or be killed." Out of the smoke soon emerged 12 enemy cruisers

which, with information of the Chinese movements, had entered the

Gulf intent on battle.

[Footnote 1: Commander P. N. McGiffin, THE BATTLE OF THE YALU,

_Century Magazine_, August, 1895, pp. 585-604.]

The forces about to engage included the best ships of both nations.

There were 12 on each side, excluding 4 Chinese torpedo boats, and

10 actually in each battle line. The main strength of the Chinese

was concentrated in two second-class battleships, the _Ting-yuen_

and the _Chen-yuen_, Stettin-built in 1882, each of 7430 tons, with

14-inch armor over half its length, four 12-inch Krupp guns in two

barbettes, and 6-inch rifles at bow and stern. The two barbettes

were _en echelon_ (the starboard just ahead of the port), in such a

way that while all four guns could fire dead ahead only two could bear

on the port quarter or the starboard bow. These ships were designed

for fighting head-on; and hence to use them to best advantage Admiral

Ting formed his squadron in line abreast, with the _Ting-yuen_ and

_Chen-yuen_ in the center. The rest of the line were a "scratch

lot" of much smaller vessels--two armored cruisers (_Lai-yuen_ and

_King-yuen_) with 8 to 9-inch armored belts; three protected

cruisers (_Tsi-yuen, Chi-yuen_, and _Kwang-ping_) with 2 to 4-inch

armored decks; on the left flank the old corvette _Kwang-chia_;

and opposite her two other "lame ducks" of only 1300 tons, the

_Chao-yung_ and _Yang-wei_. Ting had properly strengthened his

center, but had left his flanks fatally weak. On board the flagship

_Ting-yuen_ was Major von Hannekin, China's military adviser, and

an ex-petty officer of the British navy named Nichols. Philo N.

McGiffin, a graduate of the United States Naval Academy, commanded

the _Chen-yuen_.

The Japanese advanced in column, or line ahead, in two divisions.

The first, or "flying squadron," was led by Rear Admiral Tsuboi

in the _Yoshino_, and consisted of four fast protected cruisers.

Four similar ships, headed by Vice Admiral Ito in the _Matsushima_,

formed the chief units of the main squadron, followed by the older

and slower ironclads, _Fuso_ and _Hiyei_. The little gunboat

_Akagi_ and the converted steamer _Saikio Maru_ had orders not

to engage, but nevertheless pushed in on the left of the line.

Aside from their two battleships, the Chinese had nothing to compare

with these eight new and well-armed cruisers, the slowest of which

could make 17-1/2 knots.

In armament the Japanese also had a marked advantage, as the following

table, from Wilsan's _Ironclads in Action_, will show:

---------------------------------------------------------------

|SHIPS | GUNS |SHOTS IN 10 MINUTES

|------|-----------------------------|-------------------

| | | Large |Small q. f.| | Weight of

|Number|6-inch|quick fire|and machine|Number | metal

------|------|------|----------|-----------|-------|-----------

China | 12 | 40 | 2 | 130 | 33 | 4,885

Japan | 10 | 34 | 66 | 154 | 185 | 11,706

---------------------------------------------------------------

The smaller quick-fire and machine guns proved of slight value

on either side, but the large Japanese quick-firers searched all

unprotected parts of the enemy ships with a terrific storm of shells.

After the experience of July 25, the Chinese had discarded much

of their woodwork and top hamper, including boats, thin steel

gun-shields, rails, needless rigging, etc., and used coal and sand

bags an the upper decks; but the unarmored ships nevertheless suffered

severely. From the table it is evident that the Japanese could

pour in six times as great a volume of fire. The Chinese had a

slight advantage in heavier guns, and their marksmanship, it is

claimed, was equally accurate (possibly 10% hits on each side), but

their ammunition was defective and consisted mostly of non-bursting

projectiles. They had only 15 rounds of shell for each gun.

During the approach the Japanese steered at first for the enemy

center, thus concealing their precise objective, and then swung to

port, with the aim of attacking on the weaker side of the Chinese

battleships (owing to their barbette arrangement) and on the weaker

flank of the line. In the meantime the Chinese steamed forward at

about 6 knots and turned somewhat to keep head-on, thus forcing the

Japanese to file across their bows. At 12.20 p.m. the _Chen-yuen_

and _Ting-yuen_ opened at 5800 yards on Tsuboi's squadron, which

held its fire until at 3000 yards or closer it swung around the

Chinese right wing.

The main squadron followed. Admiral Ito has been criticized for thus

drawing his line across the enemy's advance, instead of attacking

their left flank. But he was previously committed to the movement,

and executed it rapidly and for the most part at long range. Had

the Chinese pressed forward at best speed, Lissa might have been

repeated. As it was, they cut off only the _Hiyei_. To avoid ramming,

this old ironclad plunged boldly between the _Chen-yuen_ and

_Ting-yuen_. She was hit 22 times and had 56 killed and wounded,

but managed to pull through.

Before this time the _Chao-yung_ and _Yang-wei_ on the right

flank of the Chinese line had crumpled under a heavy cross-fire

from the flying squadron. These ships had wooden cabins on deck

outboard, and the whole superstructure soon became roaring masses

of flames. Both dropped out of line and burned to the water's edge.

The two ships on the opposite flank had seized an early opportunity

to withdraw astern of the line, and were now off for Port Arthur

under full steam, "followed," writes McGiffin, "by a string of

Chinese anathemas from our men at the guns."

[Illustration: BATTLE OF THE YALU, SEPT. 17, 1894]

The Japanese van turned to port and was thus for some time out

of action. The main division turned to starboard and circled the

Chinese rear. Of the 6 Chinese ships left in the line, the four

smaller seem now to have moved on to southward, while both Japanese

divisions concentrated on the two battleships _Chen-yuen_ and

_Ting-yuen_. These did their best to keep head to the enemy, and

stood up doggedly, returning slowly the fire of the circling

cruisers. Tsuboi soon turned away to engage the lighter vessels.

Finally, at 3.26, as the _Matsushima_ closed to about 2000 yards,

the _Chen-yuen_ hit her fairly with a last remaining 12-inch shell.

This one blow put Ito's flagship out of action, exploding some

ammunition, killing or wounding 50 or more men, and starting a

dangerous fire. The Japanese hauled off, while according to Chinese

accounts the battleships actually followed, but at 4.30 came again

under a severe fire. About 5.30, when the Chinese were practically

out of ammunition, Ito finally withdrew and recalled his van.

Of the other Chinese ships, the _Chi-yuen_ made a desperate attempt

to approach the Japanese van and went down at 3.30 with screws

racing in the air. The _King-yuen_, already on fire, was shot to

pieces and sunk an hour later by the _Yoshino's_ quick-firers.

As the sun went down, the _Lai-yuen_ and _Kwang-ping_, with two

ships from the river mouth, fell in behind the battleships and

staggered off towards Port Arthur, unpursued. The losses on the

two armored ships had been relatively slight--56 killed and

wounded. The Japanese lost altogether 90 killed and 204 wounded,

chiefly on the _Matsushima_ and _Hiyei_.

Though China saved her best ships from the battle, her fighting

spirit was done for. The battleships were later destroyed by Japanese

torpedo operations after the fall of Wei-hai-wei. Her crews had on

the whole fought bravely, handicapped as they were by their poor

materials and lack of skill. For instance, when McGiffin called

for volunteers to extinguish a fire on the _Chen-yuen's_ forecastle,

swept by enemy shells, "men responded heartily and went to what

seemed to them certain death." It was at this time that the commander

himself, leading the party, was knocked over by a shell explosion

and then barely escaped the blast of one of his own 12-inch guns

by rolling through an open hatch and falling 8 feet to a pile of

débris below.

In the way of lessons, aside from the obvious ones as to the value

of training and expert leadership and the necessity of eliminating

inflammables in ship construction, the battle revealed on the one

hand the great resisting qualities of the armored ship, and on

the other hand the offensive value of superior gunfire. Admiral

Mahan said at the time that "The rapid fire gun has just now fairly

established its position as the greatest offensive weapon in naval

warfare."[1] Another authority has noted that, both at Lissa and

the Yalu, "The winning fleet was worked in divisions, as was the

British fleet in the Dutch wars and at Trafalgar, and the Japanese

fleet afterwards at Tsushima." Remarking that experiments with

this method were made by the British Channel Fleet in 1904, the

writer continues: "The conception grew out of a study of Nelson's

Memorandum. Its essence was to make the fleet flexible in the hands

of the admiral, and to enable any part to be moved by the shortest

line to the position where it was most required."[2]

[Footnote 1: LESSONS FROM THE YALU FIGHT, _Century Magazine_, August,

1895, p. 630.]

[Footnote 2: Custance, THE SHIP OF THE LINE IN BATTLE, p. 103.]

By the Treaty of Shimonoseki (April 17, 1895) which closed the war,

Japan won Port Arthur and the Liao-tung Peninsula, the Pescadores

Islands and Formosa, and China's withdrawal from Korea. But just as

she was about to lay hands on these generous fruits of victory,

they were snatched out of her grasp by the European powers, which

began exploiting China for themselves. Japan had to acquiesce and

bide her time, using her war indemnity and foreign loans to build

up her fleet. The Yalu thus not only marks the rise of Japan as

a formidable force in international affairs, but brings us to a

period of intensified colonial and commercial rivalry in the Far

East and elsewhere which gave added significance to naval power

and led to the war of 1914.

REFERENCES

Aside from those already cited see:

ROBERT FULTON, ENGINEER AND ARTIST, H. W. Dickinson, 1913.

THE STORY OF THE GUNS, J. E. Tennant, 1864.

THE BRITISH NAVY, Sir Thomas Brassey, 1884.

CLOWES' HISTORY OF THE ROYAL NAVY, Vol. VII (p. 20, bibliography).

NAVAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE 19TH CENTURY, N. Barnaby, 1904.

THE TORPEDO IN PEACE AND WAR, F. T. Jane, 1898.

SUBMARINE WARFARE, H. C. Fyfe, 1902.

THE SUBMARINE IN WAR AND PEACE, Simon Lake, 1918.

FOUR MODERN NAVAL CAMPAIGNS, Lissa, W. L. Clowes, 1902.

THE AUSTRO-ITALIAN NAVAL WAR, Journal of the United Service

Institution, Vol. XI, pp. 104ff.

A History of Sea Power · 第 14 / 19 章