Chapter 639: Arab Sea Battle 4

The last Main Gun still operational fires a Shell every two minutes. The Shell lands around the Deguo battleship, posing no threat, but it keeps firing.

It is telling those two Deguo battleships: the Royal Navy has not been wiped out.

2:08 PM.

Another Shell hits near the waterline of Determination. Sea water rushes in wildly from the breach, flooding beyond the ship's displacement. The hull begins to list—five degrees to starboard, ten, fifteen—

Colonel Bo Yi Er stands in the shattered bridge, watching the Royal Navy flag still fluttering.

"Abandon ship," he says.

The executive officer rushes forward: "Captain, you must—"

"I am the commander," Bo Yi Er interrupts, "this is my ship. I will stay with it to the end."

The executive officer salutes, then darts out of the bridge.

Determination slowly capsizes. The hull is upside down, exposing a bottom encrusted with barnacles and a still‑spinning propeller. It remains inverted on the sea for about three minutes, then begins to sink.

Colonel Bo Yi Er stands on the bridge ceiling—now the floor—watching seawater pour in through the shattered porthole.

He recalls the scene thirty years ago, his first time boarding a warship. Back then he was a young Navy Lieutenant, standing on the deck of an old cruiser, looking at a portrait of Queen Victoria, swearing loyalty to the British Empire.

Now he has fulfilled it.

The seawater engulfs him.

3:20 PM.

On Bismarck's bridge, the sounds of tallying battle results keep coming.

"Royal Oak confirmed sunk. Determination confirmed sunk. Monarch heavily damaged, retreating northwest. Revenge and Conqueror approaching, Distance about twenty‑five nautical miles."

She Er stands at the chart table, looking at the numbers.

Two ships sunk, one heavily damaged.

But at what cost?

"Damage report for this ship," the damage officer's voice comes through the megaphone, "Bismarck has taken four shells in total."

"One hit on the left aft side, pierced the secondary gun deck, exploded in the storage hold. The fire is extinguished, nearby compartments have minor flooding, the bilge pumps are operating."

"One hit below the bridge, blew off the external antenna of the radio room. The main radio equipment is intact, the backup antenna is damaged."

"One hit near the B turret, shrapnel severed part of the hydraulic lines. B turret's loading speed drops by thirty percent."

"The most critical hit—near the starboard waterline, creating a breach with inflow about thirty tons per hour. The damage team is sealing it, expected to control within two hours."

She Er is silent for a few seconds.

Four hits landed. Not fatal, but not light.

"Tirpitz report," the communications officer hands over another slip, "three shells hit: one near the boiler room causing slight flooding; one on the aft deck destroying a seaplane; one in the C turret, the turret jammed, unable to rotate."

C turret jammed.

Tirpitz's four Main Gun turrets now number only three.

"Fuel remaining?" She Er asks.

The quartermaster opens the log: "Bismarck has fifty‑eight percent fuel left, Tirpitz fifty‑four percent. At twenty knots, can sustain about… forty hours."

Forty hours.

She Er walks to the porthole, raises the telescope.

To the southeast, Revenge and Conqueror are closing. Their speed remains twenty‑one knots; they cannot catch up, but they keep pursuing. Ai Wen Si‑Tuo Ma Si is a stubborn opponent; he will not give up.

"Turn," She Er finally says, "course three‑five‑zero, speed twenty‑six knots. Northward, withdraw from the battlefield."

The navigation officer blinks: "General, north? The north is the Persian Gulf—"

"I know," She Er cuts him off, "north, to Dubai."

The bridge is quiet for a second.

Dubai. Lanfang's Dubai.

"Bismarck needs repairs," She Er says, "Tirpitz does too. We cannot sail with these wounds. Yingguo people will still send more ships."

He pauses: "To Dubai. That is the nearest safe harbor from here."

The order is issued.

Bismarck slowly turns northward. Tirpitz follows close behind.

The two Deguo battleships sprint north at twenty‑six knots.

Behind them, Revenge and Conqueror grow farther, smaller, and finally vanish beyond the horizon.

On Revenge's bridge, Ai Wen Si‑Tuo Ma Si stands at the porthole, watching the direction where the two Deguo battleships disappeared.

He stands for a long time.

Chief of Staff Ke Luo Li walks over, whispering, "Commander, they have fled. We cannot catch them."

Ai Wen Si‑Tuo Ma Si says nothing.

He watches the empty sea. Three hours ago, five Yingguo battleships were there. Now only two remain.

Determination sank. Royal Oak sank. Monarch heavily damaged; whether it can make it to Mumbai is unknown.

Two Bismarck Class, replaced by two Revenge Class, one heavily damaged.

This tally…

"Commander," Ke Luo Li says again, "what do we do?"

Ai Wen Si‑Tuo Ma Si finally speaks.

"To Mumbai," he says, his voice hoarse, "let Monarch dock for repairs. We… also dock to rest."

He pauses: "Send a dispatch to London. Just say…"

He remains silent for a long while.

"Just say, the Deguo fleet fled north, possibly entered the Persian Gulf. Our fleet is severely damaged, unable to continue pursuit. Request… request reinforcements."

Keluoli lowered his head.

"Yes," he said.

The telegram was sent.

Evans-Thomas stood alone on the bridge, watching the gray‑blue sea to the north.

He recalled the Ridge‑Land Sea Battle. In that battle, he had also watched the Germans flee. At the time, he thought that someday he would catch up with them and make them pay.

And now?

He caught up.

Then he let them run again.

At six o'clock in the evening, the Bismarck steamed northward at a speed of twenty‑four knots.

The sun was setting in the west, tinting the sea gold‑red. In the direction of the Persian Gulf, a faint gray line appeared on the horizon.

She Er stood by the porthole, watching that gray line.

It was land.

It was the direction of Dubai.

"General," the Navigator came over, "at the current speed we can reach Dubai's offshore waters by tomorrow morning. Should we send a notice to Lanfang in advance?"

She Er was silent for a few seconds.

"Send it," he said. "Tell them the Bismarck and Tirpitz require emergency repairs. Request… request entry into port."

The Navigator nodded, turned and went to make arrangements.

She Er continued standing at the window.

He recalled the battle of that day.

Two ships had sunk, one was heavily damaged. Their own vessel, also wounded, was fleeing toward a neutral country's port.

This account…

"General," the Communications Officer came over, "Lanfang has replied."

She Er took the telegram.

It contained only one sentence:

"Dubai Port welcomes the German hero. Entry arrangements have been made. —Chen Feng"

She Er stared at that line for a long while.

Then he folded the telegram and slipped it into his pocket.

"Full speed," he said, "to Dubai."

Outside the window, the setting sun was sinking into the horizon. The Persian Gulf's waters glittered in the sunset like burning liquid.

Ahead lay Dubai.

It was Lanfang.

It was an unknown tomorrow.