Chapter 359: These Chapters Blend Historical Japan‑Germany‑Netherlands, So the Revision Is a Bit Awkward

"But She Er is still alive, and most Deguo battleships are still alive," Studi said.

"Yes." Jellicoe nodded, "so the war will continue. But today, the Yingguo Royal Navy proved that she remains the master of the North Sea."

He turned, preparing to return to his cabin to rest. But after two steps, he stopped.

"Send a report to the Navy Department," he said, "state: Today we engaged the Deguo high‑seas fleet's main force, sinking one enemy battleship‑cruiser, one old battleship, two light cruisers, and several destroyers. Our losses are two battleship‑cruisers and one armored cruiser. The enemy has retreated, and our forces control the battlefield."

"Should we mention specific ship names?" the communications officer asked.

Jellicoe thought, "Mention the Lu Zuofu and Bo Men. As for our losses… mention Bu Juan, Queen Mary, and the Defense (an armored cruiser that sank in the battle, not previously mentioned)."

"Yes, Major General."

The communications officer ran to send the report. Jellicoe gave the sea one last glance, then turned and left.

Behind him, the North Sea night was as dark as ink. The flames had gone out, the gunfire had ceased, leaving only the sound of waves lapping the battleship and the distant destroyer's whistle rescuing those overboard.

A great sea battle had ended.

But the war was far from over.

The seawater was bone‑chillingly cold.

Fritz Berg struggled in the darkness to surface, spitting out salty seawater and gulping air. Around him floated planks, oil drums, corpses, and still‑burning wreckage.

He was a survivor of the Emperor. In the final moments before the battleship sank, he and a few others in the turret crawled out through the deformed turret door and leapt into the sea. Sergeant Huo Si Te did not emerge—he was trapped by collapsing steel while helping others escape.

"Hold on! Hold on!" Fritz said to himself and to the other survivors he could see.

He grabbed a floating plank and hoisted himself onto it. The plank was small, barely supporting one person. He scanned the surroundings, trying to find more survivors.

"Here! Save me!" a voice called nearby.

Fritz paddled over. It was Hans—not the Hans who died in the turret, but another Hans, the engine‑room Hans. He clutched a wooden crate that was sinking. (There are plenty of German Hans.)

Fritz reached out, "Grab me!"

The two youths struggled in the icy water, sharing the tiny plank. They clung tightly, using body heat to warm each other.

"Will we die?" the engine‑room Hans asked, his voice trembling.

"No," Fritz said, though he was not sure himself, "rescue will come. Our ship, or… the Yingguo ship."

"The Yingguo?" Hans's voice was full of fear.

"They're all the same," Fritz said, recalling Sergeant Huo Si Te's words, "in the sea, a person overboard is a person overboard. Nationality doesn't matter."

He looked out into the distance. In the darkness he saw lights—searchlight beams sweeping the sea. A battleship was approaching.

"Look!" he exclaimed, "a ship is coming!"

But the ship's shape, when briefly illuminated by the searchlight, showed a familiar silhouette—not that of a Deguo battleship.

It was a Yingguo battleship.

A Yingguo destroyer was slowly steaming toward them, its searchlight scanning the sea. Whenever the light fell on a survivor, it stopped and lowered a boat or a rope ladder.

Fritz and Hans exchanged a glance. Fear and the will to survive fought in their eyes.

In the end, the will to survive won.

They raised their hands and shouted with all their might, "Here! Save us!"

The searchlight swung toward them, its blinding glare nearly forcing them to shut their eyes. Then the destroyer drew nearer, lowering a rope ladder from its side.

A young, weary Yingguo sailor's face appeared at the rail, his eyes gentle.

"Can you climb up?" he asked in accented German.

Fritz nodded. He first helped Hans grab the rope ladder, then followed himself. Icy seawater dripped from his body; each step was immensely heavy, but he persisted.

When he finally climbed onto the deck, a pair of strong hands caught him.

"Blanket! Hot soup!" the Yingguo sailor shouted to his comrade.

Fritz was wrapped in a rough but dry blanket, and a steaming iron cup was thrust into his hand. The soup was salty but warm, heating him from throat to stomach.

He looked around. Dozens of survivors sat on the deck, Germans and Yingguo alike—the latter rescued from other sunken Yingguo battleships.

No one spoke. Everyone simply sat quietly, sipping soup, wrapped in blankets, watching the dark sea.

Language differed, uniforms differed, yet at that moment they shared the same expression—post‑catastrophe bewilderment, grief for lost comrades, and fear of the future.

Fritz finished the soup. He handed the iron cup back to the Yingguo sailor and said in halting English, "Thank you."

The Yingguo sailor nodded, replying in equally halting German, "You're welcome."

A simple sentence, yet on such a night, on such a sea, it carried special weight.

Fritz leaned against the rail, watching the burning wreckage on the distant sea. Those were his ship, his home, the graves of many comrades.

But he survived.

In the icy seawater, rescued by the enemy, he survived.

He didn't know what it meant. He didn't know how long the war would last, or what the future would hold.

But at least in this moment, on the deck of the Yingguo destroyer floating on the North Sea, he was alive.

And being alive brings hope.

These were Sergeant Huo Si Te's final words to him.

At 11:47 p. m., smoke curled in the officer's conference room of the Iron Duke.

Six people sat around the long table—the Fleet Commander John Jellicoe, Major General Frederick Studi, Brigadier General William Hall, the Chief Navigator, the Chief of Artillery, and the Second Battle Fleet Commander Jeram, who had just transferred from the damaged Marbello. Maps, telegrams, and reports were spread before each, but everyone's gaze was fixed on Jellicoe.

"So the current situation is," Jellicoe sketched on the map with a pencil, "She Er's main fleet is about twenty‑five nautical miles to our northeast, retreating toward Helgoland Bay at sixteen knots. Their formation is chaotic, but at least eighteen capital ships remain combat‑ready."

The pencil moved to another spot: "Our position is here, roughly to their southwest. Betty's remnants lie about fifteen nautical miles west of us, under repair—Lion, Royal Princess, and New Zealand are still combat‑ready, while Tiger requires urgent maintenance."