Contrary to a well-known rule in naval science, Persano formed his squadron in single file, and quite at the beginning of the battle Tegethoff managed to break the line by dashing in between the first and second division whilst they were going at full speed, and under a furious cannonade from their guns.  This daring operation placed him in the middle of the Italian ironclads, which, well directed, could have closed round him and destroyed him, but they were not directed either well nor ill—­they were not directed at all.  Persano put up contradictory signals, most of which were not seen, and those which were seen meant nothing.  The plan followed by Admiral Tegethoff may be best described in his own words:  ’It was hard to make out friend from foe, so I just rammed away at anything I saw painted grey.’  Two Italian vessels had been already damaged, but not vitally injured, by the Ferdinand Max, when in the dense smoke a vast wall of grey appeared close to the bows of the Austrian flagship, which, to the cry of ‘Ram her!’ put on full steam and crashed into the enemy’s flank.  The shock was so great that the crew of the Max were thrown about in indescribable confusion.  The Italian ship was the Re d’Italia, the flagship which did not carry the admiral.  She quivered for one, two, some say for three minutes in her death agony, and then went down in two hundred fathoms of water.

After the Re d’Italia was struck, one of her seamen, thinking to assert a claim to pity, began to lower her flag, but a young officer pushed him aside and hoisted it again; so the great ship sank with her colours flying.  The incident was noticed by the Austrians, who spoke of it in feeling terms.  Willing enough were they to help, for after the first cheer of triumph they felt sick with horror at their own work, the fearful work of modern naval warfare.  There were 550 men on board the doomed ship.  Tegethoff shouted for the boats to be lowered, and signalled to the despatch boat Elisabeth to pick up all she could, but two Italian ironclads were bearing down upon him, and little could be done to save the drowning multitude either by the Austrians or by their own people.  Persano did not know of the disaster till some hours after it happened.

The sea had scarcely closed over the Re d’Italia when another misfortune occurred; the gunboat Palestro took fire.  Her captain, Alfredo Cappellini, disembarked the sick and wounded, but remained himself with the rest of the crew, endeavouring to put out the fire.  The ship blew up at 2.30 p.m., and over two hundred perished with her.