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.
CHAPTER XV
THE HARBOR AT SUNSET
It was an impressive procession of ships that steamed into Punta Delgada two days after the great battle. As the Delaware, at the head of the column, battle-scarred from stem to stern, passed the supply ships and fleet-tenders anchored in the roadstead, the shout that went up seemed as if it would lift the vault of heaven. For miles astern the battleships stretched out in an apparently endless line, while destroyers and cruisers lined both flanks. The disabled craft, including the surrendered ships of the enemy, followed more slowly at a greater distance, while those unable to steam were still waiting near the scene of the action for ocean-going tugs to arrive and tow them in.
In the United States not a hint of an impending naval crisis had filtered through into the daily press. So when the news of the victory came, the people were fairly dazed by it. Stirring as it was, and great as was the rejoicing throughout the land, the full meaning of it was scarcely realized at first, for the extent to which the enemy depended on his fleet was not understood by the general public.
But the heads of the Coalition Government in Constantinople understood, and cursed their lot, and trembled in their shoes. And the British Admiralty understood, and lost no time instigating the Foreign Office in London to make certain significant representations to Washington, which figured largely in the negotiations that followed. Before long overtures from Constantinople concerning peace were received in Washington and London. They were met by a firm and solid front on the part of the Allies. Nothing but unconditional surrender would be acceptable.