1901

“Thank you, Mr. Lansing. Let the lookouts watch for torpedo wakes.” Evans watched spellbound as his ship passed down the line of three Germans. Their return fire had been slow, very slow indeed. He suspected that virtually all the lookouts had been watching the shore bombardment and not looking to their rear. The smaller German guns were, so far, firing wildly. He tried, but failed, to feel some sympathy for them, tried to visualize their reactions as they saw the Alabama emerging from the mist at such close range and with so little time to react.

The Alabama ’s guns hammered away with a life of their own. He could not help an involuntary cry as the forward single-gun turret of the Freya lifted into the air and fell into the ocean with a mighty splash. The sound and feel of the explosion washed over them seconds later. The Freya was doomed, seeming to shudder as the life was pounded out of her. Fires raged everywhere. She was no longer returning fire. “Secondary batteries on the heavy. Shift the big guns to the little ships.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Who are they, Mr. Lansing? We should know their names before we sink them.”

Lansing smiled. “They appear to be the Gefion and another like her. I don’t know how many in that particular class. The Gefion has ten 4.1-inchers and torpedoes.”

Evans nodded. The lookouts were again instructed to let him know if one of the infernal torpedoes was launched at his ship. The Gefion and her companion each had triple stacks and each was flying apart under the bombardment. Pieces of metal flew skyward along with what were, sometimes very obviously, bodies. The last ship, still unnamed, suddenly lifted out of the water and disintegrated as her magazine exploded. Two down.

“Torpedo in the water!”

Evans rushed to the port side of the circular bridge and stared at the blue-green water, straining to see the lethal tracks.

“Captain,” yelled Lansing, “lookouts say the torpedo will miss. It may have been thrown off the German ship by an internal explosion and not actually launched.” Evans nodded to mask his relief and turned back to the one-sided battle.

The second ship, the Gefion, seemed to disappear in a cloud of water and spray as the guns of the Alabama bracketed her. She was given a momentary respite as the Alabama, having run the Germans’ futile gauntlet, turned about. This simply gave the fresh and frustrated gunners on the starboard batteries an opportunity to practice their hard-earned skills in what was now a slaughter, not a battle. In moments, this phase too was over as the last German ship began to settle in the water, blazing from stem to stern. Evans called a cease-fire as he saw lifeboats being lowered and frantic German sailors jumping into the sea. He gave orders for their own boats to be lowered and the survivors rounded up.

“I do not,” he added sternly, “want hundreds of goddamn Germans on my ship. Bring only the swimmers and the seriously injured aboard. Gather the lifeboats and direct them to the shore.” When an officer started to say something, he waved down the protest. “We will send our own marines ashore to see that the fools aren’t lynched, although,” he grumbled, “that might not be a bad idea for some of their senior officers. At least it will give the marines something to do for their pay. Now, what about our own damage? Any?”

“Captain, we were hit at least three times, no major damage. However, we do have at least four dead and seven wounded.”

Evans nodded and tried to keep the astonishment from showing. In the intensity of the battle, he hadn’t been aware they’d been touched.

In the lookout’s position high above the Alabama, Ens. Terry Schuyler searched his memories. Nothing in his twenty-three years of life had prepared him for the shattering, thundering drama and violence he’d just witnessed from the best seat on the ship. His lookout position was even with the tops of the twin funnels, and, unlike other days when the smoke had blown on him and obscured his view, his vision had been marvelously clear. He’d seen the guns fire and watched the shells hit. How many had died? How many were wounded? His own ship had been relatively unscathed, but what about the Germans? His books told him the Freya had a complement of more than 450, and the Gefion, if that’s what she was, and her twin had crews of more than 300. That totaled about 1,100 men! The presence of the lifeboats meant there were survivors, perhaps many, but he knew there were equally as many dead. The Alabama ’s own lifeboats had been lowered and were approaching as close as possible to the stricken cruisers without endangering themselves from the fires and the still-exploding ammunition.

There was a shuddering, crying sound as the Gefion capsized, her broad hull grotesquely in view, and then began to slip beneath the surface.

“Kinda looks like a fat-ass whore I usta fuck in Hong Kong, if you ask me, sir.”