World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

At 12:15 a.m., on the bridge of the British armored cruiser HMS Black Prince, Colonel Thomas Beckett futilely scanned the dark sea with his binoculars.

His warships fell behind.

Two hours earlier, while dealing with a torpedo attack from a German destroyer, the HMS Black Prince made an emergency turn to avoid a torpedo, losing visual contact with the main fleet. The radio was malfunctioning—whether due to a damaged antenna or a problem with the equipment, they couldn't receive or transmit signals.

They were completely lost in the thick fog and darkness.

"Still no signal?" Beckett asked the communications officer, the third time he had asked the same question in ten minutes.

"No, sir. We've tried all frequencies, but only static noise. It could be that our transmitter is malfunctioning, or the main fleet is maintaining radio silence."

Beckett put down his binoculars and rubbed his sore eyes. He had been standing on the bridge for fourteen hours straight, and exhaustion weighed heavily on his limbs, but anxiety prevented him from resting.

The HMS Black Prince is an old armored cruiser commissioned in 1904, with a full-load displacement of 13,000 tons, armed with six 9.2-inch main guns and ten 6-inch secondary guns. During the daytime battles, she served as an auxiliary force to Jellicoe's main fleet, primarily tasked with reconnaissance and cover. But now, adrift alone in the middle of the North Sea, the old ship appears exceptionally vulnerable.

"Boarding?" Beckett asked the navigator.

"Current heading 060, speed 14 knots, sir. But without precise positioning, I cannot guarantee our accurate location on the map."

Beckett walked to the chart table. The navigator drew a large circle on it with a pencil: "We could be anywhere within this range. The margin of error... could be twenty nautical miles."

Twenty nautical miles. At sea, that's a fatal margin of error. You might think you're next to friendly forces, but you're actually in the middle of the enemy; you might think you're in safe waters, but you're actually heading straight for a minefield.

"We need to see something," Beckett said. "A ship, a light, anything that can help us locate ourselves."

"But there are blackout restrictions..." the navigator reminded him.

“I know,” Beckett interrupted him, “but if we sail in complete darkness, we might run into friendly forces—or worse, run into the Germans without even realizing it.”

He was caught in a dilemma. Turning on the lights might expose him and attract German submarines or destroyers. Not turning on the lights might mean he would continue to get lost, or even cause a collision.

Just then, the lookout suddenly shouted, "Port! Lights! Distance...very far, maybe five to ten nautical miles!"

Beckett rushed to the port window and raised his binoculars. On the dark horizon, there were indeed a few faint points of light moving—not the navigation lights of a warship, but more like the beams of flashlights or signal lights, appearing and disappearing intermittently.

"Can it be recognized?" he asked.

The signalman observed carefully through his binoculars for several minutes, then said uncertainly, "It looks like... a Morse code? But it's too faint to make out the whole thing. The rhythm sounds like... like the German Navy's identification signal?"

The air in the bridge froze instantly.

A German? In this location?

"Prepare for battle," Beckett ordered, his voice tense. "But don't fire yet. It could be survivors who fell overboard, or damaged German ships. Let's get closer and observe."

The Black Prince began to slowly turn, heading towards the points of light. Beckett ordered the entire ship to go on high alert, loading the main guns, but lowering the muzzles to avoid displaying hostility—in such poor visibility, the risk of accidentally hitting friendly fire was equally high.

The distance is slowly decreasing. Five nautical miles, four nautical miles, three nautical miles...

The points of light became clearer. Now it was clear they were the outlines of several warships—not large, possibly light cruisers or large destroyers. They seemed not to have spotted the "Black Prince," or perhaps they had spotted it but were pretending not to, continuing to sail southeast at a moderate speed.

"They're Germans," Beckett finally concluded. "Judging by the ship type, they're like Grodenz-class light cruisers, and maybe a few destroyers too. What are they doing? Why aren't they speeding away?"

Suddenly, the navigator had an idea and rushed to the nautical chart: "Sir, if those are German ships, and they're sailing southeast... that means the main German fleet might also be in that direction! They might be the rearguard or flankers!"

Beckett's heart pounded. If this were true, if he had inadvertently struck the flank of the German main fleet...

"Record our current position and the enemy ships' bearings!" he ordered. "Then we turn north and disengage. Once the radio is repaired, report to the main fleet immediately!"

But it was too late.

Just as the Black Prince began to turn, a German light cruiser opposite suddenly turned on its searchlights.

The blinding white light, like a sharp sword, pierced the darkness in an instant, illuminating the entire hull of the "Black Prince" in perfect clarity. In that beam of light, the grey paint scheme of the British warship, its towering funnels, and its old-fashioned turrets—every detail was revealed.

Immediately afterwards, the second and third searchlights came on. Not just one ship, but at least four German warships simultaneously turned on their searchlights, all locking onto the "Black Prince".

"We've been spotted!" the lookout shouted.

Beckett knew he had made a fatal mistake. He shouldn't have approached to observe, shouldn't have taken the risk in such an uncertain situation. But now it was too late for regrets.

"Full speed turn! Release smoke! Prepare for battle!" he roared.

But the Germans reacted faster.

The moment the searchlights locked on, the barrage began. Not the main guns—light cruisers' main guns are not large in caliber—but a dense barrage of secondary and medium-caliber guns. Shells rained down like a storm, landing around the "Black Prince" and exploding into countless columns of water.

At least three shells hit their mark in the first salvo. One shell struck the foredeck, blowing off the gun shield of a 6-inch secondary gun. Another hit below the bridge, shrapnel piercing the observation window and sending glass fragments flying across the bridge interior.

Beckett felt a burning sensation on his cheek, and when he touched it, his hand was covered in blood. A shard of glass had cut his face, but the wound wasn't deep.

"Fight back! Fight back!" he yelled into the megaphone.

The main guns of the "Black Prince" began to rotate. However, the old-fashioned turrets rotated slowly, and the aiming system was extremely ineffective at night. The first salvo completely missed, and the shells landed far behind the German warship.

Meanwhile, the German artillery fire became increasingly accurate.

They had clearly received systematic night combat training. Searchlights remained locked on, fire control officers calculated rapidly, and shell impact points were quickly corrected. In the second salvo, at least five shells hit the hull of the "Black Prince."

One of the shells hit near the waterline. The explosion tore a large hole, and seawater rushed in. The ship began to list.