The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 890 The fish has taken the bait!
April 1882, 4, 16:06, off the coast of Honolulu, the flagship of the Hawaiian Squadron of the Eastern American Pacific Fleet, the Charleston.

The morning mist was like a veil, covering the iron-gray sea. Rear Admiral Brooke stood on the bridge, his fingers unconsciously tapping the edge of the brass compass. The artillery fire from the direction of Honolulu in the distance had not stopped, and the dull sound of explosions came through the humid air, causing waves of echoes in the morning mist.

"It's the sixth day." He cursed in a low voice, his Adam's apple rolling up and down on his tight collar, and beads of sweat on his forehead, "Three thousand Marines can't even take down a few thousand yellow monkeys growing sugarcane!"

Staff Officer Lieutenant Colonel Wilson handed over a cable message from Oahu: "General, Washington has called again to urge progress."

Brooke took a quick glance at the telegram and crumpled it into a ball. The ball of paper rolled on the teak floor and finally stopped beside the porthole. Through the blurry glass, he could see the flashing muzzle flames of the Diamond Hill Battery in the distance - that was the 6-inch coastal defense gun transferred by the British, which was now bombarding the True Yorkist positions in the direction of Pearl Harbor.

Suddenly, a shrill buzzer sounded from the bridge megaphone. "Commander!" the voice of the officer on duty came, "Colonel Montagu, the commander of the British forces in Honolulu, requests to board the ship."

Brooke straightened his collar that was messed up by the sea breeze: "Let him come up."

Ten minutes later, when Colonel Montagu entered the officer's lounge, Brooke noticed that the Englishman's shoes were still shiny, even though the Honolulu pier must be full of gunpowder and blood. Montagu took off his white gloves and took out a wax-sealed document from his briefcase.

"According to the agreement between London and Washington," he said in his Oxford accent with a unique sense of alienation, "Diamond Hill Battery and Honolulu Defense will be officially handed over to your army from today." The wax seal on the document glowed dark red in the morning light.

Montagu suddenly leaned forward and lightly scratched a sea chart spread out on the table with his index finger. "But I must remind you," he lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear, "the real battlefield is on the sea."

When Brooke took the document, he noticed the insignia of the Royal Navy's Pacific Squadron embroidered in gold thread on the other party's cuffs - another Pacific Fleet! There are really too many Pacific Fleets in the Pacific now! The two United States each have a Pacific Fleet, and the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and Britain also have a Pacific Fleet each. At least four Pacific Fleets make the Pacific a bit crowded.

"At noon on the 11th," Montagu handed over another telegram, "two armored cruisers, two light cruisers, and four destroyers left San Francisco." He tapped the telegram lightly with his index finger, "calculated at a speed of 15 knots."

"They will definitely arrive before sunset tomorrow, maybe even earlier if they leave the supply ship behind." Brooke suddenly felt his throat tighten. He thought of the blurry photos from the Naval Intelligence Office: the slender hull of the Dinghai-class armored cruiser, and the terrifyingly long barrel of the 200mm main gun - which meant it had a larger caliber than the 203mm gun on the Charleston.

Outside the porthole, a group of seagulls were startled by the sudden sound of artillery fire. Montagu looked towards the land following the sound. The smoke above the sugarcane fields was dyed blood red by the rising sun. "Do you know why the Zhenyo militia is difficult to deal with?" he suddenly asked, then tapped the telegraph code book with his fingers, answering his own question: "Because there are 600 million yellow people on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. If we can't take Hawaii and block the Pacific Ocean, they will continue to cross the ocean and arrive at the New World!"

Brook clenched his fists suddenly, his eyes full of bloodshot.

On April 4, at 17:04, 30 nautical miles north of Oahu Island, the flagship of the 20st Squadron of the Western American Pacific Fleet, the Dinghai.

Raindrops pierced the dark sea like silver needles. Colonel Luo Xinhua stood in front of the chart table on the bridge, his fingers gently tracing the scheduled battle zone south of Oahu. The voltage of the carbon filament lamp was not stable, flickering, casting his shadow on the tilted bulkhead.

"Course 210, speed 16 knots." The voice of Lieutenant Commander Lin Taizeng, the navigator, came over the sound of rain. "The lookout reports no contact ten nautical miles ahead."

"Commander!" The signalman pushed open the hatch, and the water on his waterproof cloak splashed on the teak floor. "Urgent message from the California!"

Luo Xinhua took the translation paper. The rain blurred some of the words, but the words "immediately advance to the south of Oahu" were dazzlingly clear. It was finally about to begin!

When he grabbed the megaphone, he felt his temples throbbing. "All fleets, get ready for battle! Change course to 235, increase speed to 18 knots!"

The steel behemoth slowly turned in the darkness. The bolts of the four 200mm main guns simultaneously made metallic clanging sounds, like hungry beasts grinding their teeth. In the boiler room below the deck, the topless stokers raised the coal shovel high, and the fire in the furnace plated their backs with bronze.

06:45, 12 nautical miles south of Oahu, the scheduled engagement area.

When the rain and fog on the sea dissipated, the lookout's scream pierced the silence in the bridge through the megaphone: "Enemy ship! Eleven o'clock!"

Luo Xinhua raised his telescope and saw the outline of the USS Charleston, a protected cruiser, clearly visible seven nautical miles away. The sunlight that had just emerged reflected dazzling spots of light on its portholes, like a string of dangerous signals.

"Battle alert!" Lieutenant Colonel Shen Moqing grabbed the megaphone, his Ningbo accent echoing through the steel bulkheads, "All ships, prepare for a salvo!"

06:52, the first round of calibration shooting begins!
"Distance 6500 yards!" the fire control officer shouted, his voice trembling slightly with nervousness.

"Load the main gun with armor-piercing shells!" Major Chen Ying, the chief gunner, ordered. His right index finger drew a circle in the air, and the loader in the turret immediately got busy.

The 95-kilogram armor-piercing shell was sent into the gun barrel by the hydraulic push rod, followed by the propellant bag. The metal knocking sound of the breech block closing was clearly heard through the microphone.

The four 200mm main guns at the bow of the Dinghai slowly turned, with the black muzzles aimed at the Charleston in the distance.

"Fire!"

The ship shook violently, and four shells whizzed out. Luo Xinhua saw the impact points through the telescope - two shells landed 300 yards on the port side of the enemy ship, one shell landed 350 yards in front of the bow, and the closest one exploded 250 yards away from the port side near the stern.

"Correction!" The fire control officer quickly calculated, "Distance correction +300 yards, azimuth correction 2 degrees left!"

Almost at the same time, the 203mm main gun of the Charleston spewed out an orange-red fireball. The shell landed 300 yards outside the port side of the Dinghai, but Luo Xinhua still felt the deck trembling slightly under his feet. When the water column turned into countless water drops and fell, some of them still fell on the Dinghai!

This is just a 200mm cannon! Luo Xinhua thought: If it is replaced with 305mm, 350mm, or even larger shells, who knows how terrible it will be? It seems that the route advocated by my father to focus on developing "big ship cannons" is really correct. 06:55, the second round of calibration 07:00, the third round of calibration 07:03, the fourth round of calibration Round after round of calibration, the enemy's shells have been getting closer and closer to the "Dinghai", and the same is true for the "Dinghai", and the shells are getting closer and closer to the "Charleston". Now it depends on who will form a cross-fire first and who will be hit first? The atmosphere on the cruisers of both sides is becoming more and more depressing, and it is almost suffocating.

"Fifth salvo ready!"

"Fire!"

This time, the bullets hit in a perfect straddle—two about 100 yards in front of the Charleston and two 80 yards behind. The white water column framed the enemy ship in the middle, like a fence erected by the god of death.

"Stride fire!" The fire control officer excitedly tapped the rangefinder, "The enemy ship is within effective range!"

"Round six, rapid fire!"

The loaders in the turret were sweating profusely. They mechanically repeated the actions: opening the bolt, ejecting the shell, loading the shell, and closing the bolt. The 200mm main gun began to roar at a rate of two rounds per minute, and the shells hit the Charleston like raindrops.

07:15, the first shot hit!
"Boom!" A 200mm shell hit the foremast of the Charleston. The 30-meter-high steel mast broke like a straw and hit the deck, emitting dazzling sparks.

"Hit!" Gunnery Chief Major Chen Ying waved the rangefinder excitedly, "The enemy ship's speed is decreasing!"

But the cheers of victory were soon interrupted by the ear-piercing sound of metal tearing. A 152mm shell from nowhere hit the starboard armor belt of the Dinghai, and the wrought iron armor dented with a teeth-grinding sound, but it did not break. Luo Xinhua saw through the porthole the moment the shell bounced off, like ripples caused by a stone hitting the water.

"Report from the third turret, the armor-piercing shells have been loaded!" At this time, the stern turret, which was originally unable to fire due to its poor position, also joined the artillery chorus.

"Fire!"

The salvos of the six 6mm cannons seemed even more accurate. In the 200th salvo, two shells penetrated the waterline armor of the Charleston, and thick smoke immediately gushed out from the middle of the hull. Brooke's flagship swayed violently like a wounded whale, and its speed slowed down noticeably.

At this moment, the shells fired by the main guns of the "Charleston" had just formed a cross-fire on the "Dinghai" - although the four 4mm cannons on the "Charleston" class were also rapid-fire guns, their firing rate could not compare with that of the "Dinghai", and it had just reached the 203th round of calibration firing!

In addition, the sister ship of Dinghai, Zhenhai, also scored its first hit, hitting the bow A turret of New York with a 200-mm round!

Obviously, the Dinghai-class's bombardment efficiency is significantly higher than that of its opponent! Considering the thick armor of the Dinghai-class, the outcome of today's naval battle has already been decided!

At 07:45, the Hawaiian Squadron of the US Eastern Pacific Fleet, which had persisted for several rounds of bombardment, finally accepted its fate and began a tactical retreat after the Dinghai was hit by a 203 but was still not seriously injured.

"The enemy ships are turning!" the lookout shouted, "They are releasing a smoke screen!"

Milky white chemical smoke spewed out from the chimney of the "Charleston", quickly obscuring the entire East American Fleet formation.

"They are trying to run away!" Shen Moqing shouted.

Luo Xinhua narrowed his eyes: "No, they are luring us into the battleship's range." He knew this tactic too well - just like a hunter using a wounded prey to lure a larger beast.

He grabbed the intercom: "Release the rockets! All fleets keep their distance! Slow down to 15 knots."

Three red flares whizzed into the sky, exploding dazzling spots of light in the morning mist - it was both a signal to friendly forces and a confusing array for the enemy, preventing them from guessing that the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's navy was equipped with a radio station.

At 08:00, the shelling from both sides temporarily stopped and the post-war assessment began.

In the operations room of the Dinghai, Luo Xinhua stared at the marks on the chart. The pencil line showed that the Dongmei Fleet was retreating southward, but it must be a trap.

"What's our hit rate?" he asked the gunnery chief.

"We fired 15 salvos, 80 shells, and scored three hits." Major Chen Ying looked through the record book. "The hit rate is about 3.75%, which is average."

Shen Moqing handed over a damage report: "The starboard armor belt was hit by a 203 shell. A piece of armor plate may have been blown off, but it's not serious. The 'Sacramento' was hit by a 6-inch shell at the stern and is being repaired."

Luo Xinhua nodded. They had the upper hand in this outpost battle, but the real test was still to come. The battleships of the East American Fleet had not yet appeared, like beasts in the dark, ready to pounce and bite the Dinghai and Zhenhai at any time. But weren't those Constitution-class battleships themselves also prey in the eyes of others?
At this moment, a buzzer sounded from the megaphone, followed by the voice of the lookout: "A large enemy formation has been spotted, 20 miles away, with more than 15 people."

Luo Xinhua and Shen Moqing looked at each other: Here it comes!

Luo Xinhua said: "Send a signal to the California: The fish has taken the bait!"

(End of this chapter)