Cole saw the other British vessels clearly now. No need for binoculars — they were close enough now for him to make out details. The cruiser was in plain sight, larger than the others — the destroyers that hovered just beyond Prometheus — but still a pitifully small ship. She was a light cruiser all right, strikingly similar to the light cruisers that he had seen tied up at Norfolk. They were fast, lightly armored, lightly gunned — a compromise between a heavy cruiser that stood at least a fighting chance with a capital ship and a destroyer that stood no chance at all. She was a compromise vessel — giving up armor and armament so that her speed would take her well clear of danger. But this was to be a fight and she would have no choice but to engage the enemy, however uneven the odds might be.
He glanced around the bridge, careful to keep to his corner of the tiny area. Hardy was almost taciturn, giving orders minimally, doling out the words as if they were rationed to him. His temper exploded once or twice; once when he called for more revolutions from the engines and once when he was asked if Prometheus had signaled them yet.
“Just now, sir,” the yeoman of signals had replied.
“Well, goddamn it,” Hardy had flared. “What is it? Do I have to call for messages before they are given to me?”
“Message from Prometheus, sir,” Dove had returned calmly, used to his captain’s outbursts. “‘Glad to see you could join the party, signed, Prometheus.’ Any reply, sir?”
“Reply,” Hardy exploded, directing his frustration toward Land. “Reply, Number One! Party. He’s talking as if I’m late again. Well, by God, I’ll have him know that we’re not late. You tell that…” He reconsidered and pinned Dove with a glare. “Make to Prometheus,” he said, gritting his teeth, “‘I have brought the champagne. Trust you have not neglected to invite the guest of honor. Signed, Firedancer.’ Ha!” he said and then turned to Land. “Ha, Number One. Guest of honor. I’ll warrant that will send that pompous ass around the bend.”
“Right you are, sir,” Land said, peering through a pair of binoculars. “I think I have the guest in sight, just now.”
Cole, holding tightly to the binoculars that Land had given him earlier just in case someone claimed them, searched the horizon.
“Four points off the starboard bow,” Land said calmly.
“Jesus!” a lookout above him said. “She’s a whole country unto herself.”
“Belay that talk, Taffy,” a petty officer said. “You sound like a bloody Hostilities Only. Now give it to the officers quick and give it to them right.”
“Green twenty. Green twenty,” Taffy said. “Enemy vessel in sight. Unable to determine range or speed, sir.”
Cole found her in his lens. “Holy shit,” he said. “That is a big son of a bitch.”
The petty officer eased next to him. “Begging your pardon, sir, but that sort of talk sends the wrong message to the boys.”
“My apologies, Petty Officer,” Cole said.
The seaman had just turned away when he added: “But she is the biggest fucking ship that I’ve ever seen, if you pardon the observation, sir.”
“Message from Prometheus, sir,” Dove said. “‘Take station two miles off my starboard quarter. We shall move in, in unison, and engage. End message.’”
“Well, that’s the first sensible thing that I’ve known Sir Whittlesey to say in years. Make to Prometheus, ‘Message received and acknowledged.’ Well, Mr. Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “what do you think of our chances?”
“I think it would be wise to shoot and scoot, Captain Hardy.”
“Shoot and scoot?”
“Run in quickly, launch your torpedoes. Then get the hell away from her before she can target you.”
“Oh, that won’t do, Mr. Cole,” Hardy said. “Prince of Wales is just over the horizon. Sea Lion can go through us like shit through a goose. We shall have to do more than that, I’m afraid. What, exactly, I’m not certain.” He took a deep breath and resumed his watch. “Perhaps we can slip in and irritate the great ship, eh, Number One?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, sir,” Land said.
Chapter 28
Kadow, standing next to the communication’s bank in the conning tower, hung up the telephone.
“Foremast lookout reports that the enemy ships appear to be deploying for action. Hydrophone and radar report no other ships in the vicinity.”
“But Prince of Wales is just beyond them,” Mahlberg said, peering through the slits cut into the sixteen-inch steel walls of the conning tower. It was a small circular room, heavily armored, cramped; from which the Kapitan and a few men could direct the actions of Sea Lion during battle. It was a relatively safe place to be, as only a direct or very close hit could destroy it, but Mahlberg had to observe the action through those strategically placed tiny openings. He could control the engines, the steering, and communicate to any part of the ship from the round, steel citadel. But Mahlberg preferred to be on the bridge.
The telephone rang again and Kadow answered it. After a moment he reported to Mahlberg: “Foremast reports cruiser bearing two-six-two, one destroyer to her starboard, two to port. Distance, approximately seventy kilometers and closing.”
“Come to two-seven-oh,” Mahlberg said. “That’s the only variation these gnats will wring from me. Inform Frey that he may engage his main battery when the enemy is within range.”
The blast of the alarm bell filled Bruno and called the crew of number-one gun to action.
Statz heard the rumble of shells coming up the hoist and watched as Steiner extended and locked the spanning tray into position. Manthey opened the hoist door and the blunt nose of the one-ton shell slid onto the spanning tray, anxious to be employed. As the door closed, Statz signaled Wurst, who activated the rammer, pushing the shell gently but resolutely into the gun breech until the locking ring settled snugly into the barrel.
At the same time Scholtz pulled hard on the gray lever that rolled open the barrel-shaped doors that led to the powder hoist. The two silk bags that fell onto the spanning tray were immediately guided into the breech by the rammer. Three more silk bags followed before Statz closed the breach and signaled to Gran. The gun was ready.
The loudspeaker above them crackled to life.
“Sailors of Sea Lion. This is your Kapitan. We are about to engage an enemy light cruiser and three destroyers, the only defense that the British have managed to throw up between us and Prince of Wales.”
The men smiled at one another. What they would do to those tiny ships!
“We will rush through this pitiful force,” Mahlberg continued, “and sink Prince of Wales. We will achieve a great victory for the Fatherland and avenge our brothers who perished on Bismarck.”
Statz bowed his head and said a short prayer. He had known and trained with some of the gunners on Bismarck. Only luck, and the Kriegsmarine’s unfathomable system of ship assignments, had kept him off the doomed vessel.
“We sail aboard the greatest warship ever built,” the Kapitan continued. “Our guns shoot farther, our vessel is faster, and our men are better trained than any that have sailed before us. Even our name denotes our power. We are the Lion of the Seas.”