“Forward pom-pom, fire one round in front of her bridge.”
The order was repeated and the front gun barked angrily. That brought a burst of activity from the Astrid as her crew exploded onto the deck and started lowering lifeboats. Midshipman William Halsey laughed. He was nineteen and had just completed his second year at Annapolis. The war had given him a temporary commission. “I think they’ll all be gone well within your ten minutes, Captain. Are you going to send over a boarding party? They could open the sea cocks and we wouldn’t have to expend any more ammunition.”
It was tempting. The Chesapeake simply didn’t have room for many shells, and each round of ammunition was precious. “No, Halsey, not this time. It would take more than an hour to get there, do the job, and get back. Remember, we scoot if we see something we can’t handle coming over the horizon. I wouldn’t want to have to run and leave you there to explain to the German navy just what you’re doing trying to sink one of their ships.”
As soon as the lifeboats were clear, Walsh ordered the pom-poms to each fire three rounds into her hull below the waterline. When Halsey asked if such a small weapon would penetrate, Walsh said the ship was so rusted that a pair of scissors would probably work. The guns fired in rapid succession and raised small splashes by her hull.
“Sir, the 3-inch crew wants to fire.”
“William, how many 3-inch rounds do we have?”
“Thirty, sir.”
“Well, then, we shouldn’t waste them when the pom-poms can do the job, now should we?”
“Just a reminder, sir, the men in that crew have trained on the gun, but they’ve only had dry runs; they’ve never fired it. It might be good experience for them.”
Walsh saw the logic and reluctantly gave permission for one round. He heard the gun crew whoop; seconds later, the larger gun fired with a racket that made the pom-poms sound like dogs yipping. Walsh was gratified that the deck supports held. The Astrid was little more than a hundred yards away, so missing was almost impossible, and the ship was nicely holed, with a secondary explosion following quickly. They must have hit a boiler.
“Sir, the machine gunners would like a chance to fire as well.”
Walsh rubbed his eyes. “Oh, what the hell. One short burst each. Then check and see if the cook would like to throw some garbage at her before she sinks.” Warriors all, he thought, but maybe the experience of actually shooting at another ship might be helpful someday.
As he continued to watch, the Astrid started to settle lower in the water. A shouted voice from one of the lifeboats attracted his attention.
“Captain, will you not take us aboard?” The caller, an older man with a short white beard, appeared to be the captain of the Astrid. There were almost a score of men in two boats, and not all were German, as some very dark and swarthy faces attested. Not all were men, either; many were scarcely boys. But could Walsh take them on board? If he did, how would he keep them secure while he sought out other ships? What about his mission? If he took them, he would have to feed them out of his meager stores. And what about crews from future ships? It was certainly not intended that he should return to Norfolk every time he sank a rusting freighter.
The voice from the lifeboat continued, a small note of fear evident. “Captain, we have taken what food and water we could, but it cannot sustain us for very long. We are three hundred miles from shore, and the prevailing currents will take us in the wrong direction. You must help us.”
A gurgling, rumbling sound emanated from the stricken Astrid. She was sinking much faster than Walsh would have thought.
“Engines, one-third ahead.”
Halsey was pale. “Aren’t you going to help them?”
“No.”
The voice from the lifeboat was desperate and fading slightly as the Chesapeake pulled away. “Captain, if you leave us, you are condemning us to die.”
Walsh leaned over the railing and yelled back angrily. “I believe your kaiser shares at least some of the blame for your predicament, and I find it likely you came to a war zone voluntarily and in search of profit.” He turned and confronted Halsey and others in the crew. The stunned expressions on their young and eager faces told him that what had been a lark had just turned deadly. Most were only students with some knowledge of sailing who’d enlisted for the duration.
“War is hell, Mr. Halsey. I’ll be in my cabin. Let me know if anything important happens.”
Ian Gordon had recovered from the minor wounds he’d suffered in the raid with Heinz. He looked fit and sounded ebullient as he relaxed in a folding chair in Patrick’s headquarters tent. “Patrick, my lad, how was your love tryst with the fair maiden Katrina?”
“We both survived. I met her father. A very interesting man.”
“The truly wealthy often are.”
“Trina and I will be getting married.” In response to that announcement, the dark-haired Scot jumped up and began pounding him on the back.
“Wonderful, or as your beloved president says, bully!” He allowed Patrick to recover his breath. “When will the sacred event take place?”
“Soon. Very soon. She’ll be back here in a couple of days with her father, and it’ll take place as quickly after that as possible.”
“Such a hurry,” he teased. “Either you want her in the sack real bad, or you’re afraid she’ll awaken from whatever trance she’s in and see you for what you really are.”
“A little of both,” Patrick responded, whacking Ian on the back with enough force to drive his breath out. “Now, what vile things have you been up to while I was gone?”
“Been to Ottawa.”
“Oh?”
“To see the king. Well, almost the king. The prime minister, Lord Salisbury, who, as you doubtless are not aware, is also serving as foreign secretary, along with the colonial secretary, Joseph Chamberlain.”
Patrick was impressed. “That is exalted company.”
“Indeed, although they also brought Joseph’s son Neville and that fatuous, stammering ninny Winston Churchill. The reason for the meetings with me and others is not a total secret, although I would appreciate not seeing it in the newspapers. Britain is very concerned that Germany might prevail over here and win the war.”
“Concerned enough to get involved, say, with your marvelous navy?”
Gordon coughed. The Royal Navy could sweep the seas clean of the Germans without breaking a sweat.
“No, we are not quite ready to do that, although the entire war is causing changes in how we do business. For starters, every German convoy that steams through the Channel is now shadowed by elements of our Home Fleet as well as your nasty cruisers. Having seen how suddenly they fell upon your shores, we have no intention of inviting one of their convoys to make a sudden right turn and disembark an army at Portsmouth or Dover.”
“You really think they’d do that?”
He shrugged. “Anything’s possible. Their intelligence services are not as inept as we would like. They are now well aware of what aid you are receiving from us, and of the fact that your fleet is in our waters and under our protection. They are angry and potentially capable of almost anything. We are also returning a large portion of our army from South Africa in order to further discourage any sudden thrusts on their part. That, sad to say, is resulting in an armistice with the Boers and terms for them that are far better than they deserve or could otherwise have hoped for.”
His face flushed and he became uncharacteristically angry. “Damnit, Patrick, we fought the Boers for more than three years, and we finally had those dirty farmers on the run. We were on the verge of wrapping up that war on our terms. Now the Boers get almost everything they wanted in the first place, just so we can pull our army out and protect the United Kingdom. All the deaths we suffered are in vain.”
“How do you think we feel about the deaths we are suffering?”
“Touché,” Ian said sadly. “It isn’t fair and it isn’t just. Of course, it never is.” He took a deep breath and recovered his poise. “Well, some good might come from it. The prime minister told me there would be more money for the military. More new ships and some bright new regiments, with modern weapons for all. All to ensure that the mad Hun doesn’t do unto us what he’ll do unto you if you lose. Should you win, wisdom says he will be so disgraced that he won’t try anything like this for a very long time.” He paused thoughtfully. “However, I believe he is perfectly capable of doing something truly evil just for vengeance and the sheer devil of it.”