Divisions 10–12, Engineering, reported a flawless performance. Kapitanleutnant Jahreis fairly beamed as he detailed the accomplishments of his departments. Mahlberg let him speak without interrupting him. Many of his men worked in sealed engineering compartments where the pressure was fifty-six times that of the outside atmosphere. They were a very cool and confident lot who lovingly tended the machinery that drove Sea Lion and gave her power. Without them this beautiful vessel would be nothing more than a dead world at the mercy of her enemies and the sea. Mahlberg thanked Jahreis for his report and asked that his thanks be passed on to the men of Divisions 10–12. Next he wanted to hear from his gunnery officer. They had seen a flash and a large dirty cloud of what appeared to be smoke just as the enemy vessel entered the fog bank. It was then that Hydrophone had reported sounds of a vessel breaking up. They had got her.
“We expended twenty-three rounds of High Explosive shells,” Frey said. “Two, perhaps three hits on the vessel. Six shots bracketed.”
“Twenty-three? I would have thought you could do better, Frey,” Mahlberg chastised him mildly. The reprimand was necessary not because twenty-three rounds was an exorbitant number for the results achieved — throw in fog, choppy seas, any of the variables in aiming and firing big guns, and you have an inexact science — but because Mahlberg wanted better from his men. The enemy cruiser was fast and difficult to spot dashing in and out of its own smoke — it was like throwing stones at a terrier. But she need not fight back because speed was a cruiser’s defense. Had the enemy vessel been a battleship, had her armor and armament come close to what Sea Lion possessed, the two would have entered into combat like two heavyweights, exchanging blow for blow. It would be fire and maneuver — plunging fire and flat trajectory, each ship trying to find the other’s range with its shells. The contest of speed under those circumstances was this — whoever found the range of their enemy first had a better chance of winning. “You took over nearly thirty minutes to destroy the enemy vessel. Bismarck sank Hood in only six.”
“Bismarck had a much larger target to shoot at.”
“Nevertheless, I shall expect improvements in the future. Continue with the report.”
“Our radar failed with the first salvo,” Frey added. “It was completely useless by the second. We have not been able to recover it.”
“I was told that it was ready for action,” Mahlberg said, accepting a cup of tea from a steward. “What happened?”
“We don’t know,” Kadow said. “We installed extra padding and foam suspension on the radar mount. We tested it during gunnery practice and the radar functioned perfectly. The gun charges have never varied, nor the firing sequence, and the waterproofing was regularly checked. Every guideline recommended by the designers and engineers to maintain the instruments was stringently followed. Apparently it was not enough.”
“Apparently,” Mahlberg agreed. A salvo from the three guns of one turret was enough to send tremors throughout Sea Lion. Two turrets firing a salvo was more than enough to shake the senses out of any instrument. “Well, Frey, it looks as if you must resort to old-fashioned range finders. Can you make do with that?”
Frey smiled. “Of course, Kapitan. Give me a target and I will demonstrate our abilities.”
“Is there no end to the man’s arrogance?” Mahlberg said to Kadow.
“Message, Kapitan.” A petty officer handed Mahlberg a flimsy and stood back respectfully while Mahlberg opened and quickly read it.
“From the Seekriegsleitung. They are getting nervous,” he said. “They instruct us ‘with all haste to return to the predetermined course and engage the target as ordered.’” He handed the message to Kadow. “They order us to release the destroyers at once.”
“That’s just as well,” Kadow said. “They’ll just slow us down.”
“Will we miss their eels, Frey,” Mahlberg asked, “if we become entangled in a nest of British hornets?”
“I should be more afraid of German torpedoes racing about than British shells.”
“Spoken like a true gunner. Send the destroyers on their way with my compliments, Kadow. Now, my friends, let us set a course of Prince of Wales and make history.”
A young Oberleutnant zur See approached Mahlberg nervously. “Pardon me, Kapitan, but the correspondents would like to meet with you about today’s action.”
“I am indisposed,” Mahlberg said sharply and then, mindful of the young man’s impossible position as liaison to the civilians, softened his tone. “Advise them that duty requires my presence on the bridge.”
The young officer saluted.
“Just a moment,” Mahlberg said. “What is your name?”
The Oberleutnant zur See stiffened. “Jensen, sir.”
“Oberleutnant Jensen, what did you think of today’s victory?”
The young man tried to suppress a smile. “It was thrilling, sir.”
“Do you know, Jensen, that when I was a Leutnant zur See in the Republic’s Reichsmarine, there were only fifteen thousand of us?”
“No, sir.”
“A pitiful band, was it not? We’ve come a long way since 1929. A very long way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mahlberg smiled to himself. “Yes. Well, I doubt that you are interested in a history lesson from your Kapitan.”
A shocked look crossed Jensen’s face. “Oh no, sir. I mean yes, sir. I am honored. Most honored, sir.”
“Be at ease, Jensen. Return to the correspondents and tell them to assemble in the wardroom in one hour. I shall meet them there.” Mahlberg turned to see Kadow glance at him. “You wish to say something, Kadow?”
“Only that you’ve never taken the time to give me a history lesson,” the first officer said with a smile.
“It would be lost on you,” Mahlberg said. “Have your detailing officer prepare information packets for the correspondents’ briefing. Have one of the destroyers stand by to receive my launch.”
“Your launch, sir?” Kadow said.
“Yes. When the correspondents have the packets, gather them and their belongings, escort them to the launch, and deposit them on the deck on whatever destroyer that you wish.”
Kadow was stunned. “Kapitan, those civilians are on board at the express wish of the Ministry of Information.…”
“Good,” Mahlberg said. “You may so inform them that they are leaving Sea Lion. All of them,” he said with emphasis, remembering his difficulties with Ingrid. “This is a warship. I cannot attend to the needs of noncombatants. Regardless of whom they know or what their influence is with the party. You handle it, Kadow. The less I have to say to that pack of wolves, the better off I am.”
“Yes, sir,” Kadow said.
Mahlberg motioned Kadow to one side and whispered. “When you give my compliments to Fraulein May, be so kind as to give her a message. Discreetly of course.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Inform her that I have chosen my mistress.”
“Yes, sir,” Kadow said, diplomatic enough to conceal his surprise.
Captain Harland had always been most uncomfortable in the presence of Sir Joshua Bimble, but now he stood before Admiral Townes, the man who destroyed the mighty Bismarck. Even the cold Scottish wind that blew across Scapa Flow was not as intimidating as this sailor.