But the youthful German fleet had also received its baptism of fire in this decisive battle.

All the means of destruction with which the modern art of war is acquainted were employed by each of the two opponents to snatch victory from his adversary.  The shells of the heavy guns were combined with the projectiles of the lighter armament and the machine-guns posted in the fighting-tops, so that in the real sense of the word it was a “hail of projectiles,” which came down in passing on the ships wrapped in smoke and steam.

Hermann Heideck had become so thoroughly familiar in India with the horrors of war on land in their various forms, that he believed his nerves were completely proof against the horrible sight of death and devastation.  But the scenes which were being enacted around him in the comparatively narrow space of the magnificent flagship during this engagement, far surpassed in their awfulness everything that he had hitherto seen.  Heideck was full of admiration for the heroic courage, contempt of death, and discipline of officers and men, not one of whom stirred a foot from the post assigned him.

As he only played the part of an inactive spectator in the drama that had now reached its climax, he was able to move freely over the ship.  Wherever he went, the same spectacle of horrible destruction and heroic devotion to duty everywhere met his eye.

The men serving the guns in the turrets and casemates were enduring the pains of hell.  In the low, ironclad chambers a fiery heat prevailed, which rendered even breathing difficult.  The terrific noise and the superhuman excitement of the nerves seemed to have so dulled the men’s senses, that they no longer had any clear idea of what was going on around them.  Their faces did not wear that expression of rage and exasperation, which Heideck had seen in so many soldiers in the land battle at Lahore; rather, he observed a certain dull indifference, which could no longer be shaken by the horror of the situation.

A shell struck a battery before Heideck’s eyes, exploded, and with its flying splinters struck down nearly all the men serving the guns.  Happy were those who found death at once; for the injuries of those who writhed wounded on the ground were of a frightful nature.  The red-hot pieces of iron, which tore the unhappy men’s flesh and shattered their bones, at the same time inflicted fearful burns upon them.  Indeed, Heideck would have regarded it as an act of humanity to have been allowed with a shot from a well-aimed revolver, to put an end to the sufferings of this or that unfortunate, whose skin and flesh hung in shreds from his body, or whose limbs were transformed into shapeless, bloody masses.

But those who had escaped injury, after a few moments’ stupefaction, resumed their duty with the same mechanical precision as before.  Amidst their dead and dying comrades, about whom nobody could trouble himself for the moment, they stood in the pools of warm, human blood, which made the deck slippery, and quietly served the gun which had not been seriously damaged.