"Her crew must have received special training!" Nelson shouted over the whistling shells has they splashed into the sea with white columns marking their landing spots.
"Port five degrees!" Captain Upturn commanded. "Range?"
"Twenty-four thousand yards sir!" Came the reply.
"Tell the guns to rain all they've got!" Upturn ordered Nelson.
"Aye sir." Nelson replied before heading for the phone room behind the ship's bridge. Upon the HMS Steel, things weren't so good, a shell narrowly missed the bow my metres, quickly followed by another three.
"It looks like they've got their range on us sir." Captain Jameson, a mouse of sixteen years service, commented to Admiral Goodall. It was to be the last comment he ever made, and no-one knew.
"That's too close for my comfort. Fifteen to starboard!" Admiral Goodall, a fox of forty years service, ordered his captain. It was to be his last order.
The order to shoot was sent to the guns followed by columns of smoke. No hits except for the sea. There will be no more shots from the Steel.
The Bergen fired back full. There was the reigning sound of whistling falling shells.
From the HMS Triumph's view it happened so quick. There was the shell's whistle, then a small column of smoke upon the Steel's port side, before it was engulfed by an inferno of fire and a column of smoke. HMS Steel is dead.
"Nelson, make to Admiralty, tell them-" Upturn's words blocked up in his throat, but Nelson understood in a low voice, "Aye sir." Nelson headed for the radio, looking away as the black smoke from the Steel rose higher into the air.
The first picture is that the Bismarck, representing the Bergen, and the second is that of HMS Pathfinder, representing HMS Steel.