Our first shot was short, very
considerably so, as was also the second. Meanwhile the steamer had been
keeping up a very creditably controlled rate of fire, straddling us
twice, but missing for deflection, as was natural considering that we
were bows on to her.
I felt thoroughly in my element listening to the significant wail of
the enemy's shell, punctuated by the ear-splitting report of our own
gun. Weissman, gripping the rail with both hands, and to my surprise
ducking when one went overhead, watched the target with a fixed
expression, but made no attempt to control our gun-fire, which was far
from creditable, as is inevitable when it is left to the mercy of the
inferior intellect of a seaman.
However, at the tenth or eleventh round we hit her in the upper works,
as was shown by a bright red and yellow flash near her funnel. This did
not check her firing or speed in the least, in fact she seemed to be
gaining on us. She also began to zigzag slightly and throw smoke bombs
overboard, which were not so effective from her point of view as I had
thought they would be.
Matters were thus for some minutes. We had just hit her aft for the
second time, though the shooting was so disgustingly bad that I was
about to ask whether I might do the duties of control officer, when
there was a blinding flash and the air seemed filled with moaning
fragments. When I had recovered from my relief from finding that I was
personally uninjured, I observed that two of the gun's crew were
wounded and one was lying, either killed or seriously wounded, on the
casing.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88