Then the running fight soon became a hopeless stern-chase, and fifteen minutes after leaving Talcahuano Harbour the report of the last gun died away in long-drawn reverberations like the growl of a beast of prey.
Giving the helm in charge of the remaining quartermaster, and ordering a lieutenant to take command of the conning-tower, Captain Brookes began a tour of inspection. It was too dark to see the amount of damage done on deck, for the arc lamps had been totally destroyed, but below the glow of the incandescent lights showed that the _Olive Branch_ had not come scathless out of the fray.
Aft, the lighter side armour, above the lower or turtle-backed steel deck, had not been able to resist the passage of four 6in. shells. Three of the officers' cabins were completely wrecked, the fireproof furniture being shattered into fragments. The distilling plant and the bread-room were also demolished, while for'ard, the impact of two heavy projectiles on one spot had so weakened the armour plate that a third shell had burst under the fo'c'sle, the concussion injuring the delicate mechanism of the wireless gear.
Beyond the loss of the quartermaster the casualties were confined to minor contusions, though most of the crew complained of deafness for the next few days.
"This comes of adopting the principle of passive resistance," commented Captain Brookes. "There's a month's hard work to make all shipshape again."
"I must give the skipper due credit for his word," said Gerald to his chum as they turned in for the night. "I don't think I could have blamed him if he had kicked."
During the greater part of the following day the _Olive Branch_ resumed her southerly flight, though for the space of one hour she was hove-to. Daylight had revealed the extent of the damage done on decks. Practically everything that could be shot away had vanished; the two quarter boats had been swept from their davits, which were twisted into fantastic shapes; the stanchions and handrails, though stowed flat on the deck, were torn like pack-thread, while the steel decks were furrowed in all directions by the glancing blows of the projectiles. As for the conning-tower, it seemed a marvel how any of its occupants could have escaped, for almost every square inch of its massive armour was dented by the heavy shells, and pitted by the hail of the quick-firers.