The Chen-Yuen gave as hard knocks as she received, and until her ammunition ran low her fire was rapid and more effective than that of her adversaries. One of the last shells, fired under McGiffin’s personal direction from a twelve-inch gun, disabled the thirteen-inch gun on the enemy’s flagship, the Matsushima, and exploded the powder on deck, killing or wounding more than 100 Japanese officers and men. Then McGiffin’s Chinamen cheered joyfully.
Throughout the whole fight McGiffin was the dominating spirit of his ship. He was at once her brains and her inspiration.
Even cowardice itself was moved by his fearless example. At the opening of the fight he discovered a lieutenant and a dozen terrified men hidden below one of the engine turrets. McGiffin thrashed the officer and sent them all on deck, where they afterward fought like heroes.
The five hours’ strain on the commander was terrific, for there was no subordinate who could relieve him, and his presence was required everywhere. Whilst the fight was hottest a fire broke out in the superstructure above the forecastle. It became necessary to run out a hose in the range of the starboard guns, which had been ordered to fire to port across the forecastle. The men refused to do this until McGiffin called for volunteers and offered to lead them. Word was sent to the head-gunner at the starboard battery to train his pieces ahead, and McGiffin and his volunteers started with the hose for the forecastle. Half of the men were shot down by the enemy. As the captain stooped over to grasp the hose a shot passed between his legs, burning his wrists and severing the tail of his coat. A fragment of a shell that had burst against the tower wounded him a second time.
Meanwhile men at the forcastle gun were falling rapidly and the head-gunner was killed. The man who took his place, not knowing that his comrades were in front of his guns, discharged one of them. The explosion knocked the captain and his men down and killed several outright. At the same instant another shot struck McGiffin.
He would probably have remained there unconscious if water from a gash in the hose had not revived him. His first glance on coming to his senses was into the muzzle of the starboard gun. It was slowly moving into position for firing. “What an ass I am to sit here and be blown to pieces,” thought McGiffin. So he flung himself from the superstructure and fell eight feet to the deck below. With blood pouring from his mouth he crawled into the superstructure and told the men to carry him aft. In a few minutes he was fighting his ship again.
McGiffin stood very near a large gun when it exploded. He was almost blinded. His hair and eyebrows were burned off and his clothes torn and set on fire. There was a series of gashes in his trousers extending their entire length. Throughout the fight his ears were stuffed with cotton, as were those of all the gunners, but after the day’s fighting his ear-drums were found to be permanently injured by concussion. Several times he was wounded by splinters, which he extracted himself.
With forty wounds in his body, holding an eyelid up with one hand, this man of iron nerve led the fighting on his ship until the Japanese vessels gave up the contest and he alone of all the Chinese commanders kept his ship in its proper position throughout the fight, thus protecting the flagship and saving the fleet from total destruction.
When the Japanese admiral withdrew, McGiffin navigated his ship to its dock. His mind never lost its effectiveness, though his body was shattered beyond repair. In fact, his body was described as being so covered with bruises that it resembled a checker-board.
In this action a new style of sea-fighting was inaugurated and an American sailor, a young man 34 years of age, set its standard for daring and fortitude under fire of the modern guns.