“Warn Mertz to prepare for air attack,” Matt instructed. “Looks like fifty or sixty of the devils are inbound for her position, if she hasn’t seen them yet. We’ll need to let them get right on her before we make our move, but holler if they manage to do worse than chew ropes or dent the deck!” For this part of the action, Mertz ’s crew would have to abandon their exposed guns and take what the dragons dished out for a while.
“Ay, ay!”
For some time, nothing changed except the weather, which continued to worsen. The sea developed a genuine chop, and the wind rose, shifting several degrees back and forth. Matt was afraid the enemy would be forced to tack and that would change his initial deployment plan, but it shouldn’t make that much difference.
“ Mertz says draa-gons are attacking now, much as before with round- shot, but the wind makes them drop too low to do bad damage,” Minnie reported.
“Very well,” Matt replied, almost distractedly. “All units will increase speed, Mertz too. Make the damn things work to keep up with her!” Mertz ’s top speed under steam in seas like this was probably only ten knots, but every little bit helped, and the dragons were flying into a twenty-knot headwind. That ought to wear them out. “Achilles will join the Imperial squadron and lead it up on the enemy rear. Simms will take her place as our screen. As soon as the Doms get wise, Simms and Tindal are on the loose-weapons free-and we’ll pull our little stunt!”
Someone in the Dominion fleet apparently caught on fairly quickly, most likely when they saw what appeared to be two steamers overhauling their starboard flank considerably faster than any transport should be able. Signal flags raced up halyards on several of the closest ships, and when there was no response, they fired a few guns for emphasis. Matt didn’t see the flags or hear the shots. The screening ships blocked his view and Walker ’s blower, pounding hull and rumbling machinery more than absorbed the distant reports, but a signal from Simms ’s Morse lamp was sufficient.
“Execute,” he said simply, and the word was passed to every Allied ship by wireless or signal flag. “All ahead full,” he added a few moments later. “Main battery will stand by for surface action port, explosive shells. Inform Mr. Campeti he may fire when ready. Somebody hoist the battle flag, if you please.”
The vibration in the deck strakes beneath their feet intensified, and the blower roared. Walker went from plodding through the swells, to a virtual leap forward, and the sea boomed across her fo’c’sle. ’Cats on Simms and Tindal cheered lustily as she left them behind, her twin screws churning the sea behind her fantail. Their cheers redoubled when they saw the oversize ensign rise to the top of the old destroyer’s foremast, standing out straight and taught in the stiff wind, her many battles embroidered on the red and white stripes. Those on Walker cheered their consorts in return when other large flags broke and streamed above them, and Simms and Tindal altered course to close the range to the enemy. The old Japanese alarm bell, turned salvo buzzer, jarred loudly against the bulkhead, and three bright flashes lit the drab day, illuminating the expectant faces of the gun’s crews stationed around a 4-inch-50and fo’c’sle, another on the amidships gun platform, and a 4.7-inch dual purpose on the aft deckhouse. Their line of sight was clear now, and Matt moved to port and stared through his binoculars at the enemy still more than two miles away. Campeti had been drilling his crews remorselessly and now that they had the tables of fire adjusted for black powder, the guns were actually more accurate, if shorter-legged, since velocity variations were less extreme. Of course, regardless of the ammunition, Walker still had her single, greatest combat advantage: gyro-stabilized fire control that allowed a pitching, rolling, racing ship to hit an equally lively target.
Matt grunted in satisfaction when two of the three shells struck a battleship on their first salvo. The explosions of the bursting charges weren’t very big and wouldn’t have caused much damage against a modern warship, but they blew quite satisfactory holes in wooden ships, little matter how stout and thick, because they naturally penetrated while exploding. Of course, the enemy also relied on bringing large quantities of bagged powder from their magazines to the guns. Powder that was immune to the passage of solid shot, splinters, or virtually any hazard they might face in battle-except random and energetic flashes of fire. What began as something resembling fireworks going off within the distant ship, even as her gunports began to rise, rapidly accelerated into a catastrophic detonation that everyone heard over the wind, distance, and sounds of their ship. In an instant, all that remained of a once-mighty vessel-and possibly five or six hundred human beings-was an expanding cloud of smoke and falling debris.
Those on the bridge stood almost stunned for a moment, but Campeti’s roar of “Next target, next target! Match pointers, goddamn it!” on the fire control platform above snapped them out of it. They’d blown up enemy ships before, but rarely before they were fully immersed in the fight-and never with so many humans aboard.
Matt turned to the bridge watch, his face hard. “They started this, so they asked for it,” he grated. “I’m not happy about it either, but I’m satisfied, and I’ll stay that way if we blow every one of ’em out of the water!”
The salvo buzzer rang again, and three more tongues of fire snarled at the enemy and jolted the ship as Walker continued her dash to get around in front of the Dom fleet.
“Hello the bridge!” came a cry from aft. “May I come up there, please?”
“Courtney! I thought you stayed in Saint Francis!” Matt said, surprised.
“Well, I didn’t. I may have made an extra effort to stay out of sight, so you wouldn’t force me to, but I am, indeed, here! I’m the acting surgeon after all, and I have my duty,” he reminded him piously. “May I join you?”
“Yeah, I suppose. But since you’re here, I expect you to do your duty without whining. If we take a hit, you’re off to the wardroom!”
“I shall vanish instantly, sir! Vanish!” He peered out at the Doms. Another salvo boomed, and he worked his jaw to pop his ears. “So we’re engaged in yet another unequal fight,” he observed cheerfully. “How exciting! Shall we see more of those dreadful but fascinating flying creatures?”
“I think you can count on it,” Matt said, watching another salvo launch water spouts around one of the lead “cruisers.” Only one shell hit the ship and it didn’t explode, but it must have struck somewhere near the wheel, because the ship suddenly fell off, beam on to the wind. It did manage a stuttering broadside in Walker ’s direction, but every shot fell randomly short.
The whole right side of the enemy formation suddenly erupted fire and smoke at Simms and Tindal as they eased ever closer, but that fire had no greater effect. The two Allied DDs held their fire.
“It must be terribly frustrating for them,” Bradford commiserated. “I mean, I doubt any of those men over there had ever heard of Walker before we waylaid them at Guadalupe, and there they stand, directly into her fire with no hope of a meaningful reply. You can despise what they represent, but you must honor their courage.”
“Theirs is the courage of the Grik, Courtney,” Matt snapped.
“It’s not! They’re… misguided. Criminally so. They’re doubtless coerced by their faith, and by our standards, even evil. But they must sense fear and understand their danger.” He shook his head. “Their courage is real.”