THE COMING WAR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9503, 5 May 1894, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE COMING WAR.

A TALE OF THE DYNAMITE GUN. A thrilling romance of naval battle appears in' the Cosmopolitan for February. Mr. James Creelmah describes with striking realism and breath-taking vividness " an episode" which he. evidently means to be the finale " of modern warfare."

ON the eve OF the FIGHT. The scene opens on the deck ,of the Pentheroy. It is the eve of the great encounter.

Some weeks before, a government deprived by rebellion of its navy, had sent an agent to New York to hastily gather together a fighting force uid equip a swift ocean racer with all the modern implements of destruction. Night and day the work of equipment had been carried on, until finally, with the mounting of a sixty-foot dynamite gun, the newly-created man-of-war was ready to sail. Americans eager for excitement, or anxious for employment, were readily found, and scientific interest combined with large pay had induced three graduates of Annapolis to take the position of chief command. To these men were committed the unsolved problems of naval warfare. Patterson was commander, Cramer had charge of the submarine boat, Jordan engineered the dynamite gun. They were smoking together and talking of the morrow. ESTIMATING THE CHANCES. They had every detail before them of the Meloban, the battleship they expected to meet —its construction, armament, weak points and strong. Cramer had also known its commanderwhom the author, laying aside all disguise, calls later " the Brazilian Admiral." Says Patterson —

"I confess that the law of chances is against us, Jordan ; but stranger things have happened, and we will see what good-hand-ling will do when to-morrow comes. ... At all events we have the satisfaction of knowing that,, if we die, we shall fall in the cause of science. It is a desperate game but success means that the chances of future wars will be lesseued, beyond telling. So, after all, we are benefactors of our kind." '• How do you make that out ?" asked Jordan. • " Well, if one shot from this gun of ours destroys the Meloban, it will change the whole course of warfare. A quarter of a ton of dynamite ought not merely to wreck an ironclad, it ought to completely annihilate her. . . . The result of that shot may make war impossible and bring about universal arbitration. Civilised men will refuse consent to war that involves slaughter on such an appalling scale. The question is, Can we deliver a dynamite shell on the deck of the Meloban, or near enough to wreck her? The Pentheroy has no armour ; the Aleloban is an ironclad, with 11 inches of compound armour on her sides and turrets. We have no gun that can pierce her. Every gun in her battery can pierce us. She has torpedo boats. So have we. We have three things in our favour: the dynamite gun,.the submarine boat, and good gunners. This is not only a tight between powder and dynamite. It is a battle between Anglo-Saxon and Latin crews. Nerve and accuracy will tell. We need not fear the Meloban's ram, for we have a speed of IS knots, and she has a speed of only 10 knots. We can strike and run away at will."

THREE SECONDS BETWEEN' SLEEP AND DEATH. They bade each good-nightperhaps a last farewell. A good night's sleep was the prime condition for a clear head next day. All were bolow except the watch.

Two hundred men lay in their bunks and hammocks below, nearly all of them sleeping as soundly as if on a pleasure tour to South America. In two or three hummocks there were eyes wide open, staring at the planks and beams overhead, while their thoughts went back to mother or sweetheart at home. What would be the result of to-morrow? Victors nailed by the world's acclaim, or victims, forced by war's ruthless hand to a buryiuß-place beneath the waves of the Atlantic'!

The magazine stored with dynamite is guarded by special sentry. But he is suddenly felled from behind, the door unlocked, a fuse inserted in a bag of gunpowder, its outer end lighted, and in a few seconds the officer on watch sees a man spring overboard. Suspecting the danger, the officer leaps down to the magazine just in time to queuch the fuse and save the ship.

THE PLAN OP BATTLE. However soundly they slept that night on board the Pentheroy, the men were early astir. They were at breakfast when, the lookout first made known a ship on the horizon. . . . All doubt regarding the identity of the stranger hud vanished .... She intended to offer battle.^ The plan arranged for involved an advance to within about six miles of the Melobau. At this point the ship was to veer southward, and the submarine boat, already lowered over the south side, was to be put in the water and advance to the attack, the Pentheroy turning meanwhile on her track and apparently retreating. If the Ericsson succeeded iu placing her torpedo beneath the Melobau, then the fight would be over. If not, the dynamite gun and the Lay torpedoes must be depended upon. Puff— white wreath rises from the bows of the Meloban. "Iu a moment," a sailor iu the trees says to his mate, "we shall hear from that shot.'" Before he is done speaking a great shell cuts the cross-tree from under his feet, and he and his companion lie bleeding on the deck below. Captain Patterson walks back to the side of the ship where the Ericsson hangs, almost touching the water. "The time has come," he says to Cramer, who stands within the boat, ready to pull over and fasten down the dome.

FAREWELL TO THE SUBMARINE BOAT.

The Ericsson sets off on her submarine course, and the Pentheroy steams out of ranee.

"What is that?" Half a mile from the Meloban, and directly in her course, a little dome appears just above the waves. It is the Ericsson, seeking: to discover the position of her enemy. But the enemy is quicksighted, and within a minute a dozen rapidfire guus are turned in the direction of the mysterious appearance, which sinks beneath the surface not a moment too soon. Simultaneously, the engines of the Meloban have been stopped, and there are evidences of hurried preparation on board. No less thau ten electric torpedoes are being hurried over the side of the ship, and as the captain and lieutenant of the Pentheroy watch through their glasses they tremble for their old classmate. "If they explode them all together they will bo sure to catch him, Jordan. See, they are sending them out in echelon. There they go—one—two— —four. My God, what tremendous explosions!" Eight columns of water had leaped fifty feet into the air, and near one of them a boat was seen to rise out of the water, then disappear. " Poor Cramer!" "God pity him 1" THIS FIRST DYNAMITE SHELL. Then two torpedo boats wero launched from the Pentheroy.

Meanwhile, the Meloban is forging steadily on; the raugetinder indicates four miles. The fifty-pound dynamite shell is already in the gun, and Lieutenant Jordan stands, range-tables in hand, waiting for the threemile limit to be reached. The gunner's mate keeps his eye on the air-pressure gauge, whose delicate needle indicates the storedup energy—a hundred and twenty-six thousand foot-pounds, ready to be loosed at the click of a lever. . . . "Fifty-one hundred yards 1" — and suddenly the lever is pulled, and a long shell flashes out from the blacK tube on its death errand. There was a feverish moment of suspense. Even the bow-gunners stopped to watch the flight of the projectile as it curved upward, then seemed to pause for an instant at its highest poiut, to sweep on again on its downward arc. Eleven terrible seconds of waiting, and the shell had disappeared in tho sea, about a hundred yards from the ironclad, whose crew could be seen lining her bulwarks in the dread anxiety of apprehension. Scarcely had it disappeared from view when suddenly a. column of greenish water shot two hundred feet into the air, the monster vessel shuddered and heaved, then rolled heavily to the vast wave, which lifted her huge bulk like a plaything.

THE SECOND SHELL. But in a moment more the Pentheroy would be in the zone of her enemy's rapidfiring guns.

Jordan had the range—one true shot and all would be over, A two-hundred pound shell had been slid into the barrel, and his eye was at the telescope-sight. . . . Feeling had died. He was a machine like his sun ; a brain dealing with a problem of mathematics; . • . with twice a hundred rounds of dynamite balanced on the turn of lis wrist. ...

Once more the steel lever flew back, and the dreaded missile sped hissing on its course. A dazzling light blazed from the batteries of the ironclad, whose united fire was now directed ac the flying speck, growing larger as it approached them. The plan was well devised. Three hundred feet away from its mark the dynamite exploded witli a sound that rent the sky, and almost instantaneously

one of the Meloban'a military masts was seen ' to topple and fall. Much destruction was caused on deck, , but the cannonade continued with increased fury. Accordingly, the Pentheroy's torpedo boats advanced towards " the mist of death reddened by flame," hoping to be covered by the smoke. Bub tho Brazilian admiral forthwith fed his guns with smokeless powder ; the trail of the torpedo boats was easily seen ; one was " blotted out of vexistence," the other floated bottom upwards. THE THIRD AND LAST SHELL. Tho second line of attack had failed utterly. Tho last hope of the Pentheroy was in the dynamite gun. It was a question of chance and seconds. If another shell could be exploded from the Pentheroy gun the fate of the ironclad was sealed ; ii the latter's concentrated fire could disable the gun, her victory and safety were assured. ... Jordan stood cool and collected while the enormousshell,withits charge of five hundred pounds, was hoisted into position. Slowly the shining brass cylinder moved into place, and the long projecting muzzle moved upward. Would the lever never fall 2" . . , " Twenty-tour hundred yards J" " Fire, Jordan!"

It was time. Scarcely had the ponderous shell left the muzzle when the tube was pierced by a six-pound rapid-fire shot and rendered useless; a second shot carried away the sight, and a lucky shot from the longdistance battery of the ironclad penetrated the coal-protection bunkers, aud in an instant the waist of the Pentheroy was enveloped in a dense mist of burning steam. "THE SKY SKEWED TO FALL APART; " Jordan . . . watched the heavy mass shoot upward through the stream of shot and steel poured against it. One of its metal wings fell; but on it sped, unharmed, in the yellow sunlight. lb was descending sharply now, and the guns of the Meloban were silent. For half a second it disappeared in the wreaths of smoke, to reappear again as it plunged into the water, ten feet away from its target, fairly abreast of the boilers. Then the sky seemed to fall apart and the sea to be lifted from its bed. Half-stunned by the roar of the explosion, for a moment Jordan could distinguish nothing. Then he saw that the side of the majestic ship had been crushed like an egg-shell. A pillar of steam leaped from the rent, as the great billow of water entered the shattered side, and, rolling heavily, the Meloban slowly parted amidships aud disappeared. THE RESULT —" UNIVERSAL ARBITRATION." The Pentheroy was saved, though Jordan alone out of the three in command survived to bring home the news; and the story ends with the German Ambassador informing the Russian Foreign Minister — " His Majesty thinks that the time has come for a conference to consider the question of universal arbitration. Don't you think, your excellency, that war has been developed to such a point that Governments cannot afford to fight ?" " Ha!" said the Minister, with a merry twinkle in his eye, " the Americans will drive us mud with their boasting, I suppose. Arbitration? Well,let it come 1"