The fleet was still raising steam. The fate of the two torpedo boats slaughtered off Koh Ngam showed what would happen to the other ships if the French squadron got to them. There were two more torpedo boats, two fleet oilers, several transports and a minelayer back in the anchorage. Thonburi had to protect them until they got under way. Luang Phrom cursed the fact that Thonburi’s sister ship Ayuthya was not there to help him.
Luang Phrom felt the vibration under his feet as the diesels started to move the gunboat forward. “Navigation, keep us in shallow water. That’s to make the French stay at longer range.”
“Torpedoes!”
The scream of warning from the lookout was nearly panic-stricken. The eastern sky was much brighter now. Deep purple changed to light blue as the sun steadily neared the point where it would peek over the horizon. In the extra light, the white streaks on the water were clearly visible. Thonburi was moving, but just barely. The torpedoes were perfectly aimed. For a moment, Luang Phrom was dismally certain that his mission to protect the rest of the fleet would be ended before it started. Then, the tracks were replaced by white-capped blasts. The torpedoes exploded in the shoal water.
“And that’s another reason to stay in shallow water.”
A combination of relief at the sudden end to a near-mortal threat and the fact that the Captain’s jokes are always funny caused a wave of laughter to sweep the bridge. The problem was that Thonburi was silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky to the east. The French ships were lost on the darkness to the west. Still, the flash of their guns had been visible and there was just enough light to see a vague shadow.
“And, open fire.”
The gunboat lurched as her four 200mm guns roared out. Luang Phrom hoped against hope that he would see the brilliant flash of hits on the leading French ship but there were none. It had indeed been a faint chance under the conditions prevailing. He was still disappointed.
“Prepare to fire again. Wait on my command.” This is going to be a long fight. We will have to save ammunition. Over to the east, there was a tiny white spot that marked the first tip of the sun coming over the horizon. In a few minutes, the sun would be up and the French ships would be staring right into it. That would swing the advantage back to Thonburi.
“La Motte-Picquet has fired torpedoes.”
Babineau made the report with a slight degree of reluctance. He could see the Siamese gunboat by Krabung Island and the white streaks of water that marked the torpedoes on their way to destroy her. He lost track of them in the semi-darkness but say the white towers of water and then the brilliant flash of explosions. “We got her.”
A few seconds later, there was the train-like roar of 200mm shells. Four towers of water rose between the La Motte-Picquet and the Dumont d’Urville.
“That must be the other gunboat.” de Quieverecourt was surprised at the speed with which the Thai gunboats had opened fire. “Those gunboats are only 2,200 tons. The one we just hit won’t be firing at anything with three torpedoes in her.”
Babineau glanced aft. Marne and Tahure had fallen in aft of the two larger sloops. The fire on Marne had been put out very quickly. Mercifully, she had only a few wounded from the ‘friendly’ shell that Amiral Charner had put into her. Nevertheless, her captain was maintaining a hurt silence. Viewed objectively, Babineau couldn’t blame him.
“Open fire, Laurent.”
de Quieverecourt noted that the movement of the ships had brought a Thai gunboat into his firing arcs, while La Motte-Picquet’s rush eastwards had meant that any shots she might have had were at Mai Si Yai Island. Dumont d’Urville was a well-drilled ship and her gun crews were filled with confidence after the destruction of the two torpedo boats a few minutes earlier. The only question that de Quieverecourt couldn’t answer was where the gunboat La Motte-Picquet had torpedoed was. Could she have sunk so quickly? Perhaps, after three hits on a small ship like that. That thought was interrupted by the crash of 140mm guns as the French sloop opened fire.
“I can’t see what’s happening, Captain.” Babineau sounded frustrated.
“We’re staring right into the rising sun and I can’t see a damned thing. That’s why La Motte-Picquet is heading so far ahead of us. She’s trying to get clear of the sun.”
There was another train-roar overhead. This time, there was no doubt as to which ship was the target. The four shells exploded in the water around Dumont d’Urville. Her side plating rang as a patter of fragments hit the steel.
Her own guns returned the salvo. The glare from the rising sun stopped Babineau from seeing where they landed. The minutes ticked past, with the slow exchange of ineffective salvoes growing more hesitant. In Babineau’s opinion, he was shooting blind. The futility of the exercise annoyed him.
“Captain, we can’t engage under these conditions and our flashes are just giving the Siamese something to aim at. I suggest we cease fire until we can spot the fall of shot.”
de Quieverecourt nodded. Dumont d’Urville’s gun fell silent. A few second later, another salvo arrived from the Thai gunboat. This one was far aft of Dumont d’Urville; a close straddle on the Amiral Charner. For a moment, Babineau thought she had been hit, but there was no tell-tale burst of black smoke or red glow of fire from her.
“Close but not close enough, Captain.”
“If she had more than four guns, we would be in serious trouble by now. She just hasn’t the number of guns needed to give a dense shell pattern.”
“Nor do we, sir.”
“True, but we’re not supposed to get involved in this kind of fight.”
Behind them, Amiral Charner had been straddled again. The next rounds seemed to be a long time coming. That made Babineau look; first at the gunboat that was maneuvering away from the line of four sloops, then at La Motte-Picquet. The cruiser was firing her guns in full broadsides; eight 155mm weapons blasting out rounds at her target. The first broadsides were badly off; Babineau guessed that La Motte-Picquet had mistaken the shots from the Amiral Charner as her own. Four broadsides in, she obviously realized her mistake and corrected her aim.
“Move to intercept that cruiser.”
Luang Phrom was buying time and he knew it. The sun was up and that was both a good and a bad thing. His position in the eye of the rising sun had allowed him to engage the four sloops and hold them at bay while expending relatively little ammunition and suffering no damage from the wildly inaccurate return fire. Now the sun had risen properly, he no longer had that advantage. The accuracy of the French gunnery was improving.
On the other hand, the fact it was now daylight meant that the dive bombers would soon be on their way, if they weren’t already. And always, there was the question of steam. Every minute that passed meant the other warships would be that much closer to joining Thonburi’s lonely fight against five French warships.