The navigator was staring out to sea through his gla.s.s trying to penetrate the thick veil of rain. The storm howled and showers of foam burst over the decks of the _Connecticut_, the water washing over everything with a dull roar.

Captain Farlow had no need to inquire further. That was Admiral Crane and his yellow fleet sure enough!

The silhouettes of six large battleships looking like phantom-ships rising from the depths of the boiling ocean could be plainly seen through the rain and waves about six thousand yards to starboard of the _Connecticut_.

"Clear ships for action!" commanded the captain. The navigator and another lieutenant hurried to the telephones and transmitted the order.

The flag lieutenant of the squadron rushed to the telephone leading to the wireless room, and ordered a message forwarded to all of the ships of the squadron to proceed at full speed. For safety's sake the order was repeated by means of flag signals.

While from the bridge the officers were watching the gray phantoms of the strange armored fleet, it continued calmly on its course. The leading ship threw up great ma.s.ses of foam like huge exploding fountains, which covered the bow with showers of gray water.

In a few minutes things began to get lively within the steel body of the _Connecticut_. The sounds of shrill bugle-calls, of the loud ringing of bells, of excited calls and a hurried running to and fro, came up from below.

In the midst of the water pouring over the deck appeared the sailors in their white uniforms. They at once removed the gun-coverings, while peculiarly shrill commands resounded above the roar of the wind and the waves.

Great quant.i.ties of thick, black smoke poured from the yellowish brown funnels, to be immediately seized and broken up by the wind. The reserve signalmen for duty on the bridge as well as the fire-control detail took up their positions.

One lieutenant climbed hastily up into the military top of the foremast.

Two other officers and a few midshipmen followed him as far as the platform above the conning-tower, where the instruments connected with the fire-control were kept. Orderlies came and went with messages. All this was the work of a few minutes. Captain Farlow was inwardly delighted that everything should have gone off so well before the admiral. Now the other ships reported that they were clear for action.

Just as the bright ensigns were being run to the mastheads, the sun broke through the black clouds for a moment. The six monster ships continued on their way in the sunlight like sliding ma.s.ses of white iron, with their long yellowish brown funnels emitting clouds of smoke and their rigid masts pointing upward into the angry sky. The sunshine made the deck structures sparkle with thousands of glistening drops for a brief moment; then the sun disappeared and the majestic picture was swallowed up once more by the gray clouds.

"Shall we go up to the conning-tower?" inquired the flag lieutenant of the admiral.

"Oh, no, we'll stay here," said the latter, carefully examining the yellow fleet through his gla.s.s. "Can you make out which ship the first one is?" he asked.

"I think it's the _Iowa_," said the commander, who was standing near him. But the wind tore the words from his lips.

"What did you say?" screamed back the admiral.

"_Iowa_," repeated Farlow.

"No such thing, the _Iowa_ is much smaller and has only one mast. The ship over there also has an additional turret in the center."

"No, it's not the _Iowa_," corroborated the captain, "but two funnels ... what ship can it be...?"

"Those ships are painted gray, too, not white like ours. It's not the yellow fleet at all," interrupted the admiral, "it's, it's--my G.o.d, what is it?"

He examined the ships again and saw numerous little flags running up the mast of the leading ship, undoubtedly a signal, then the forward turret with its two enormously long gun-barrels swung slowly over to starboard, the other turrets turned at the same time, and then a tongue of flame shot out of the mouths of both barrels in the forward turret; the wind quickly dispersed the cloud of smoke, and three seconds later a sh.e.l.l burst with a fearful noise on the deck of the _Connecticut_ between the base of the bridge and the first gun-turret, throwing the splinters right on the bridge and tearing off the head of the lieutenant who was doing duty at the signal apparatus. The second sh.e.l.l hit the armored plate right above the openings for the two 12-inch guns in the fore-turret, leaving behind a great hole with jagged edges out of which burst sheets of flame and clouds of smoke, which were blown away in long strips by the wind. A heartrending scream from within followed this explosion of the cartridges lying in readiness beside the guns. The forward turret had been put out of action.

For several seconds everyone on the bridge seemed dazed, while thoughts raced through their heads with lightning-like rapidity.

Could it be chance...? Impossible, for in the same moment that the two shots were fired by the leading ship, the whole fleet opened fire on Admiral Perry's squadron with sh.e.l.ls of all calibers. The admiral seized Farlow's arm and shook it to and fro in a blind rage.

"Those," he cried, "those ... why, man, those are the j.a.panese! That's the enemy and he has surprised us right in the midst of peace! Now G.o.d give me a clear head, and let us never forget that we are American men!"

He scarcely heard the words of the flag lieutenant who called out to him: "That's the j.a.panese _Satsuma_, Togo's _Satsuma_!"

The admiral reached the telephone-board in one bound and yelled down the artillery connection: "Hostile attack!... j.a.panese. We've been surprised!"

And it was indeed high time, for scarcely had the admiral reached the conning-tower, stumbling over the dead body of a signalman on the way, when a hail-storm of bullets swept the bridge, killing all who were on it.

As there was no other officer near, Captain Farlow went to the signaling instrument himself to send the admiral's orders to those below deck.

The _Connecticut_, which had been without a helmsman for a moment because the man at the helm had been killed by a bursting sh.e.l.l that had literally forced his body between the spokes of the wheel, was swaying about like a drunken person owing to the heavy blows of the enemy's sh.e.l.ls. Now she recovered her course and the commander issued his orders from the bridge in a calm and decisive voice.

We have seen what a paralyzing effect the opening of fire from the j.a.panese ships had had on the commander and officers of the _Connecticut_ on the bridge, and the reader can imagine the effect it must have had on the crew--they were dumfounded with terror. The crashing of the heavy steel projectiles above deck, the explosion in the foreward gun-turret, and several shots which had pa.s.sed through the unarmored starboard side of the forepart of the ship in rapid succession--they were explosive sh.e.l.ls which created fearful havoc and filled all the rooms with the poisonous gases of the Shimose-powder--all this, added to the continual ring of the alarm-signals, had completely robbed the crew below deck of their senses and of all deliberation.

At first it was thought to be an accident, and without waiting for orders from above, the fire-extinguishing apparatus was got ready. But the bells continued to ring on all sides, and the crashing blows that shook the ship continually became worse and worse. On top of this came the perfectly incomprehensible news that, unprepared as they were, they were confronted by the enemy, by a j.a.panese fleet.

All this happened with lightning-like rapidity--so quickly, indeed, that it was more than human nerves could grasp and at the same time remain calm and collected. The reverberations of the bursting sh.e.l.ls and the dull rumbling crashes against the armored sides of the casemates and turrets produced an infernal noise which completely drowned the human voice. Frightful horror was depicted on all faces. It took some time to rally from the oppressive, heartrending sensation caused by the knowledge that a peaceful maneuver voyage had suddenly been transformed into the b.l.o.o.d.y seriousness of war. It is easy enough to turn a machine from right to left in a few seconds with the aid of a lever, but not so a human being.

The men, to be sure, heard the commands and after a few moments'

reflection, grasped the terrible truth, but their limbs failed them. It had all come about too quickly, and it was simply impossible to get control of the situation and translate commands into deeds as quickly as the hostile shots demolished things above deck. Many of the crew stood around as though they were rooted to the spot, staring straight in front of them. Some laughed or cried, others did absolutely senseless things, such as turning the valves of the hot-air pipes or carrying useless things from one place to another, until the energetic efforts of the officers brought them to their senses.

Someone called for the keys of the ammunition chambers, and then began a search for the ordnance officer in the pa.s.sages filled with the poisonous fumes of the Shimose-powder. But it was all in vain, for he lay on the front bridge torn into an unrecognizable ma.s.s by the enemy's sh.e.l.ls.

At last a young lieutenant with the blood pouring down his cheek in bright red streaks, rushed into the captain's cabin, broke open the closet beside the desk with a bayonet and seized the keys of the ammunition rooms. Now down the stairs and through the narrow openings in the bulkheads, where the thud of the hostile projectiles sounds more and more hollow, and here, at last, is the door of the sh.e.l.l-chamber containing the sh.e.l.ls for the 8-inch guns in the forward starboard turret.

Inside the bells rang and rattled, calling in vain for ammunition; but the guns of the _Connecticut_ still remained silent.

The petty officer, hurrying on before his three men, now stood at the telephone.

"Armor-piercing sh.e.l.ls, quickly!" came the urgent order from above. And when the electric lever refused to work, the two sailors raised the sh.e.l.l weighing over two hundredweight in their brawny arms and shoved it into the frame of the lift, which began to move automatically.

"Thank G.o.d," said the lieutenant in command of the turret, as the first sh.e.l.l appeared at the mouth of the dark tube. Into the breech with it and the two cartridges after it. When the lieutenant had taken his position at the telescope sight in order to determine the direction and distance for firing, orders came down from the commander to fire at the enemy's leading ship, the _Satsuma_. The distance was only 2800 yards, so near had the enemy come. And at this ridiculously short distance, contrary to all the rules of naval warfare, the Americans opened fire.

"2800 yards, to the right beneath the first gun-turret of the _Satsuma_," called the lieutenant to the two gunners. They took the elevation and then waited for the ship that was rolling to port to regain the level after being lifted up by the waves. Detached clouds hurried across the field of the telescope, but suddenly the sun appeared like a bright spot above the horizon and dark brown smoke became visible. The foremast of the _Satsuma_ with its multicolored signal-flags appeared in the field of vision.... A final quick correction for elevation ... a slight pressure of the electric trigger.

Fire! The gray silhouette of the _Satsuma_, across which quivered the flash from the gun, rose quickly in the round field; then came foaming, plunging waves, and columns of water that rose up as the sh.e.l.ls struck the water.

The loud reverberation of the shot--the first one fired on the American side--acted as a nerve-tonic all round, and all felt as though they had been relieved from an intolerable burden.

While the right gun was being reloaded and the stinking gases escaping from the gun filled the narrow chamber with their fumes, the lieutenant looked for traces of the effect of the shot. The wind whistled through the peep-hole and made his eyes smart. The shot did not seem to have touched the _Satsuma_ at all. The foam seen in the bow was that produced by the ship's motion.

"Two hundred and fifty yards over," came through the telephone, and on the gla.s.s-plate of the distance-register, faintly illuminated by an electric lamp, appeared the number 2550.

"2550 yards!" repeated the lieutenant to the captain of the left gun, giving the angle of direction himself. The _Connecticut_ again heaved over to port, and the thunder of cannon rolled over the waves of the Pacific.

"The sh.e.l.l burst at a thousand yards!" called the lieutenant. "What miserable fuses!"

"Bad shot," came down reproachfully through the telephone, "use percussion fuses."

"I am, but they're no good, they won't work," roared back the lieutenant. Then he went down into the turret and examined the new sh.e.l.l on the lift before it was pushed into the breech.

"All right," he said aloud, but added under his breath, suppressing an oath: "We mustn't let the men notice there's anything wrong, for the world!"

Another shot rang out, and again the sh.e.l.l burst a few hundred yards from the _Connecticut_, sending the water flying in every direction.

Again came the reproachful voice from above: "Bad shot, take percussion fuses!"

"That's what these are supposed to be," replied the lieutenant in a terrible state of excitement; "the sh.e.l.ls are absolutely useless."