“Poor devil,” Spanky clucked. “He needs to learn to stand up to that grubby bastard Lanier. Juan knew how to do that! I saw Tabasco down in the galley, building sandwiches for the bridge watch, and Earl was giving him fits. One of these days, one of his ‘little monkey’ mess attendants is gonna beat the hell out of him-and he’ll probably wonder why! If I see it, I won’t say a word unless they’re killing him. Earl’s a turd, but he can cook. I can’t choke down ’Cat food. Too spicy.”
Matt chuckled. “You’d better encourage some of those mess attendants to learn to cook something you can eat, besides sandwiches. One of these days, Earl’s liable to catch something over the side that’ll pull him over and eat him! Did you see what he caught just while we were tied up at Saint Francis?”
Earl Lanier was a fiend for fishing-and fish-and he’d sampled the denizens of nearly every port they’d touched. Just about anyone would’ve eaten many of the things he caught, but sometimes he brought things aboard that nobody even wanted to know were in the water. A couple of times, he had nearly been snatched into the sea.
“Yeah… he’s not going to eat that, is he?”
Matt shrugged.
“Aggh! Damn thing looked like an inside-out squid stickin’ out of a boot… with pinchers!” He yawned. “What’s the dope on Achilles and Tindal?”
“They’re coming back out. They got eleven transports. Eight chose to beach. Not as many as Reynolds reported seeing before… we lost contact. A good haul, but I wonder where the others went?”
“Home? Maybe to get more troops?”
“Maybe.”
“Lookout reports ‘spaarks’ off staar-board bow, Cap-i-taan!” Minnie suddenly cried. “Bearing two four seero, relaative, may-be five t’ousand yaards!”
Matt glanced at his watch. He’d been allowing Walker ’s crew just a few more minutes of precious sleep before what promised to be a busy day. “Very well. Sound general quarters. Signal to all ships, ‘enemy in sight,’ and give the position.”
All the Imperial ships had closed Walker before the sun went down since, except for Achilles, they had to rely on visual signals. Those were flashed now, by lights to port, and ’Cat liaison signalmen would interpret the Morse. Walker ’s unnerving general alarm gurgle-screeched into the night, and Spanky stepped to the shipwide comm.
“All hands, draw small arms and man your battle stations! Man your battle stations!” he said with infinite calm. “I repeat, draw small arms and man your battle stations. This is no drill.”
“ Mertz has ‘enemy in sight’ now,” Minnie reported. Mertz still screened to seaward. “Her cap-i-taan says enemy fleet, many ships, on course, seero, one, seero! Range to him, two t’ousand yaards. He asks turn about and open range until ‘daylight make gunnery… praac-tic-aable’!”
Matt chuckled again. “I’ll bet he does! Vey well. Tell Mertz to beat feet, but maintain contact. Remind her of the dragons! Be prepared to clear the deck if necessary. Have our lookouts skin their eyes for anything moving toward us, and tell Achilles and Tindal to hurry!”
“Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan!”
Matt looked at Spanky. “We’re liable to have company too. My guess is, they expect some of the transports to join them, so they won’t think much of sighting us if they do, but if any sniff too close, the jig’ll be up. You’d better run along to the auxiliary conn. Stop by engineering and tell them to expect some frisky maneuvering today. I do not want my ship shot to pieces halfway around the planet from a dry dock!”
“Aye, aye, Skipper!” Spanky said, grateful he’d been ordered to see Tabby before the fight. “I’ll… see you later, sir.”
“Spanky!” Tabby said, surprised to see the diminutive officer enter the forward engine room under the circumstances. “I mean, Commaander McFaarlane! How… good of you to drop by. Good mornin’, sur!”
“Tabby,” he said, and nodded at the others in the compartment. “Fellas,” he added. He looked back at Tabby. “Everything okay in your division, Chief?”
“Condensers are staartin’ to choke up again. We’ll be sayin’ so long to freshwater showers.” Spanky cringed. It would be fire hoses and naked bodies on deck, then. That had never been a problem in the “old” Navy, but with nearly half the ’Cats aboard being female, and very “human” in the pertinent parts… He cleared his throat. “Listen, this might be another ‘Scapa Flow’ today, so keep your eyes on the ball.”
“Won’t be no ‘Scaapa Flow’ with you an’ the Skipper in charge,” Tabby said confidently.
“Hey now, that wasn’t Frankie’s fault… and don’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Ain’t speakin’ ill. He was a swell guy, just not good Skipper.”
“Well… anyway, the Skipper says to be ready for some fancy moves… and be careful down here! Seems like every time there’s a fight, my poor boilers and engines get the worst of it. Not to mention my snipes.” He looked at Tabby. Her burn scars remained but were fading well, and her fur-though short and thin like all Lemurian snipes-was filling out. He did love her, in his way. He smiled and gently squeezed her arm, watching her eyes begin to glisten. “I’d better scram,” he said brusquely, taking his pouch from his pocket and stuffing a chew in his mouth. He offered it around and was surprised when a ’Cat water tender tentatively took a few leaves. “Well… fine. Just don’t be spittin’ on the deck plates!” he warned. Every snipe in the space had seen him do it a hundred times.
The day dawned gray and cloudy, and brisk enough that deck apes-’Cat and human-gladly wore shirts for a change. A few lookouts and fire controlmen even donned peacoats. The whole Dom fleet loomed to seaward, their numbers impossible to gauge due to their relative congestion, sailing in multiple columns. The Allied force, minus Mertz , was shadowing them inshore, and apparently hadn’t raised any alarm so far. Walker ’s profile was shielded from view by Tindal and Achilles as soon as they rejoined, and the sky began to lighten. Now, Captain Reddy stood beside his chair, staring out at the Doms through his binoculars and trying to determine the number of warships. He was almost sure there were twenty or more, ranging in size from ships of the line, or “battleships” as his crew increasingly called them, to the heavy frigates or “cruisers” Doms preferred. There were at least that many transports, maybe more. Few of those were steamers this time, and that made it hard to tell.
On its face, the impending battle seemed a terribly lopsided affair, as bad as when the old Asiatic Fleet faced the Japanese. Essentially, each enemy warship mounted forty to eighty guns, and each “class” was larger than its Imperial counterparts, but Matt’s little fleet had some advantages. His “American” frigates, or “DDs,” were screw steamers and much faster than the enemy, particularly with the Doms beating to windward. They mounted fewer guns, but they were larger, with a significant range advantage. If they could avoid crippling damage, they could stand off and pound the Doms largely at will. Achilles didn’t have much range on the enemy; neither did her Imperial sisters. Matt planned to use them as a rear guard, to snap at the enemy’s heels and destroy any transports that broke from the line and tried to run south with the wind. The allies also retained the element of surprise, since none of the enemy had come snooping after all, obviously thinking them to be the transports they expected.
Even as Matt watched, however, flocks of dragons lifted from some of the transports within the Dom formation, headed for Mertz- still all alone up ahead. So they do let the damn things aboard their ships, Matt realized with surprise. Well, at least we know where they come from-and where they are. That would help. Soon, he’d release Tindal and Simms to charge up the enemy flank, and Achilles and the other Imperials to steam for its rear. The Dom warships couldn’t turn toward Tindal and Simms without charging straight for shore; a very bad move for dedicated sailors. He kind of hoped they’d turn away, though he didn’t expect them to. A lot could be gained in the confusion following such a maneuver. As currently disposed, all they could really do was maintain their course and slug it out, and lonely Tindal and Simms would actually control the terms of the engagement. Given enough time, ammunirtz and luck, there wasn’t a hell of a lot the Doms could do about it-without their damn dragons. That left the final Allied advantage: USS Walker. She’d be in the fight from the start, and exposed to considerable risk, but the dragons were her priority opponent.