Magnus sat back at his desk, close to despair.
“Carter, will you stop bloody laughing! It’s bad enough without that in the background.”
“Sorry, sir. They always say a Jolly needs just enough brain to do up his shoelaces, sir. Any more than that’s wasted on a Marine, sir.”
“Thank you, Carter.”
Magnus had never had a great deal of contact with Royal Marines – they tended to be little more than uniforms in the background of his experience. The Marines were reliable – give them a task and they performed it or died failing because it was impossible. Now he had to explain a task and set them to it…
The only possibility was to take the lead in person. Lieutenant Robbins might not do very well if he had to work out the orders to give; tell him to follow and he would be there, utterly reliably.
Magnus begged Knowles permission for the use of the wardroom to address all officers. He was made welcome, a glass placed in his hand and the great dining table cleared for his use.
“Please be seated, gentlemen. Thank you for permitting me to join you. I wished to speak to every officer together, including the midshipmen.”
The four mids were standing at the rear. As warrant officers, they could not sit at the table. Magnus saw that the two youngsters still had slightly glazed expressions; Hartley and Warren had evidently enjoyed their visit to Hanshan and could think of nothing else.
“I trust we all enjoyed the hospitality of Lord Ping? Time now to consider business. We are to perform a special task, one for which Obelisk has been specifically selected.”
That was more or less true, and it did no harm to flatter them.
“You will be aware that there is unrest in China. Nothing new in that – there always is, somewhere in the huge country. The Boxers, who are the current problem, are about to march on Peking, or so we believe. They will be there in June, most likely. There are a lot of them, but they are no great menace because they are poorly armed. Most of them have spears or clubs and nothing else. However, we have word of a gunrunner…”
There was a collective indrawing of breath.
“If this smuggler exists, and if it is coming to China, then it must be stopped. It must not put thousands of rifles and millions of rounds of ammunition into the hands of the Boxers. Needless to say, we don’t know where it is or what route it must take. The probability is that it will coal in Port Arthur before making a run towards the coast at or near Tsingtao.”
Ten minutes were spent on the little known of the ship and its last location.
“We need to take the ship, in order to display its cargo as evidence. If we sink it, then the United States of America may well be upset with us. All very well to say that it was slaver turned gunrunner, but if we are to be believed then we must show it to be so.”
They considered that argument and decided it was good.
“Given a mounted machine gun, or two, they could do us great harm and might hold us off long enough to set scuttling charges and take to their boats. That would be an embarrassment, to express it mildly. So… how best do we do it?”
Knowles as premier had the right, and duty, to speak first.
“We can assume they will scuttle only as a last resort. If they lose the cargo, they lose their payday. So we must close them and speak them and then board them in a sudden assault… Easier said than done.”
Coulthorne took his turn and suggested they should make a night approach, all unseen. He had no response when asked how they would spot her in the night.
“Beg pardon, sir.”
“Yes, Mr Knuyper – speak up.”
“Merchantman, sir, and foreign. She won’t know any flag signals. We will have to come close, sir, and shout. Once within a few yards of her, we can spot any guns, or places they might be hidden, and suddenly put the helm down and come alongside and get the Marines across, sir, the rest of us to follow PDQ.”
There was a universal scowl of disapproval – the officer did not use slang to his captain at a formal meeting. Mr Knowles elucidated – captains not necessarily understanding the vulgar tongue.
“Mr Knuyper meant that we should be fast on our feet, sir. Pretty Damned Quick, sir.”
“I did in fact understand that, Mr Knowles and I agree with him. Marines to conceal themselves and come out on deck at the last moment and leap the rail and into her. Maxims manned and ready aimed at any hidden guns we can spot. Three pounders to cover the bridge and anything suspicious. A good chance it will work.”
There was general agreement that it was the sole chance of surprise. Parnell spoke up.
“What do we do if she opens up with Maxim Guns, sir?”
“Suppress them, Mr Parnell. The three pounders may be able to do that but if our men are too close to them then the boarding party will have the job to do. I shall be leading the boarders. Mr Knowles, you will have the forward bridge and you will nominate an officer to the after bridge to call targets to the sternmost guns. Mr Lockhart, you must stay below with your engines, I fear. All other officers will wish to lead men of their divisions, I do not doubt.”
Mr Knowles was inclined to be upset and felt it more correct that the captain should remain aboard and in overall command.
“Decision is taken, Mr Knowles. I will wish to search for documents that may be aboard.”
The implication of secret business was not lost on them. Knowles agreed, reluctantly, that he was the proper one to stay.
“If the Boxer business does blow up, Mr Knowles, you may be sure that we will send a contingent ashore. That party will include you, sir.”
Turn and turn about was only fair.
“Where do we expect to locate this gunrunner, sir?”
“I think she will coal at Port Arthur. She will want to close the coast with full bunkers so that she has a chance of running. Taking a load of rifles into a harbour is a risky business, but the Russians are slack and will turn a blind eye in exchange for a very few gold coins. I intend to patrol off Port Arthur – well out to sea, of course, but in the vicinity. We may be there for a week. Wei-Hai-Wei first, gentlemen, and no mention of our orders while there. I expect Barfleur to be in port and we must not inform her of our intentions. We do not want some damned great battleship to sail up and rob us of our credit!”
That, they could all agree with.
A few desultory questions and Magnus stood and withdrew, Mr Knowles at his side.
“I say, sir, what did you think of Parnell’s question?”
“Not much, Mr Knowles. To be honest, it sounded a little bit windy, to me.”
“That’s what I thought, sir. Put him on the stern bridge, do you think, sir?”
“No. We would never know one way or the other if we did that. Put him at my side when you work out the order of the boarding parties. Me and Robbins first, with the Marines; Parnell and men of his division next; then whoever you want. One of the mids with me as a runner, the other three to be in the middle somewhere, taking part but within reason sheltered.”
“Stewards to report to the Surgeon, sir.”
“That’s normal practice. Have we any men trained to run with stretchers?”
“Just two, sir. Wardroom stewards, sir.”
It was a small ship, a cruiser in little more than name.
“Speak to Mr Lockhart. See if he can release some of his people to join the boarders. Make them a part of the game.”
They mustered the boarding party before entering Wei-Hai-Wei, more than one hundred and sixty men with rifles and revolvers. They looked impressive.
“How many are marksmen, Mr Knowles?”
“Almost none, sir. They know how to load and fire a rifle and revolver and not a lot more, sir. They’ll fight, sir, but they are best at close range.”
“That means we rely on the Marines. I could wish that Mr Robbins was capable of a little more by way of initiative.”
“Point him in the right direction, sir, and hope. Not much point identifying the enemy as such �
� the word has three syllables.”
“And that makes it too difficult for him. God help us all, Knowles!”
They entered the large, barren harbour and anchored off the island, all done as smartly as possible with a battleship watching.
“Captain report aboard, sir. Picket boat is in the water with steam up.”
Magnus ran to the accommodation ladder and down into the little steamboat. The midshipman in charge cast off with no orders – the captain was always the last man into the boat. Three minutes saw him at Barfleur’s ladder, precisely to place.
“Cast off and return to Obelisk. Wait for my signal.”
If the boat remained the crew would talk with Barfleur’s people. Rumours must already be circulating about their planned action. Magnus wanted nothing coming to a superior officer’s ears.
Barfleur was a tiddly ship, all brass and bugles, even more than might be expected of a battleship. Magnus suspected that it was because she was of the second class, carrying ten inch guns rather than the standard twelve and having to prove she was just as good as her big sisters. There was a degree of controversy in the navy relating to the logic of building such a thing as a second class battleship. There were always elderly battleships, no longer fast enough or sufficiently armoured to stand with the battle fleet – they could simply be sent out to the colonies to end their days usefully there. Barfleur could do very little that one of the old ships could not and she was not a great deal faster. She was a result of muddled thinking in Magnus’ opinion – but he would not be saying that to her captain, so far senior to him.
Her captain was waiting for Magnus at the top of the ladder, which was most courteous of him – he could have delegated that greeting to the Commander, the second senior officer in the ship.
Magnus made his salute and exchanged names, as was obligatory – the captain of a battleship might have forgotten who he was.
“Commander Lord Eskdale, sir, captain of Obelisk.”
“Barrington, post captain, of Barfleur. You keep Obelisk in good condition, Eskdale. Smart indeed. I gather that I may be called upon to scrape some irate Prussians off your tail, some business of a gunrunner using Tsingtao, or so Admiral Seymour implied.”
It was necessary to tell Barrington the little that was known, for sure. Magnus saw no reason to acquaint him with his speculation.
“Nasty! Bloody Americans – too many pirates in their ranks, for some reason.”
“Southerners, sir, blockade running in their Civil War and with no objections at all to slavery. Some of them brought their ships into the Pacific after the Confederacy surrendered and other have followed in more recent decades.”
“That makes good sense, Eskdale – I had not considered that possibility. Well thought.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Captain Barrington stood motionless for a few minutes, staring at Obelisk apparently and thinking.
“You are to wait here for a telegram from Hawkins, I understand, Eskdale.”
“Not now, sir. I called at Hanshan en route north and received information there that means I must sail in the morning, sir. The source and nature of the information must be kept quiet, I am told.”
“Bloody Intelligence – they keep everything a secret, whether it needs be or not.”
“They do, sir. On a related issue, it was strongly implied to me that the Boxers will move on Peking at the beginning of June. Definitely the case that we need be ready by then, sir.”
“Do we, by God! Barfleur is due into dock for a boiler clean about then. Either delay it or take it early – definitely don’t want to miss the fun. Bound to be a Naval Brigade sent ashore, you know. Missed out on the Boers, don’t want to be done out of a scrap with the Boxers!”
“I hope to take a party ashore as well, sir. We are bound to have another go at the Taku Forts, and probably at Tientsin as well, sir.”
“So we are. Sun’s over the yardarm – time for a gin, Eskdale. Come along to the cabin, man.”
The captain of a battleship, even of the second class, dwelt in some luxury. There was a sleeping cabin, its door closed; a bathroom; a dining cabin with a table that could seat twenty; and the working cabin with its desk and half a dozen comfortable armchairs for guests. The captain had two stewards to maintain his comfort.
“I hear from Home that the Queen is to come to London, Eskdale. A public appearance to bolster the spirit of the nation, try to turn their attention away from the war.”
“Something needs to, sir. The Army is making a complete cock of it – letting a bunch of damned farmers make fools of the Empire.”
“Well said, Eskdale. Damned soldiers can’t get anything right in Africa. Lost China Gordon in the Sudan and now being beaten by a bunch of civilians at the Cape! Another gin?”
“No thank you, sir. There is an amount to do, sir, and I wish to exercise my boarding party again today, prior to sailing in the forenoon.”
The first gin had been a generous double and Magnus had no wish to spend the afternoon with a spinning head.
“You might be right, Eskdale. Too damned much drinking in the Navy, you know. I hear you sent your First Lieutenant away for that problem?”
“I think he was just starting in the habit, sir. A good shaking up and he might turn himself around, get back into proper ways, sir.”
“Spoken like a man who knows what he’s talking about, Eskdale. Well done. Off you go – keep yourself busy and pick up another medal while you’re at it, man!”
Chapter Ten
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Chinese Whispers
Obelisk sailed soon after dawn, pointing her head well to the south, as if on course for Tsingtao, as the captain of Barfleur expected.
“What’s the range of visibility from Barfleur’s masthead, Mr Coulthorne?”
“She has the big Barr and Stroud opticals, sir. On a clear day with light winds, I would expect her to pick up coal smoke at twenty nautical miles – say forty thousand yards, sir.”
A streak of coal smoke would give an indication of the invisible ship’s course.
“Then give me a course that takes us twenty-five miles towards Tsingtao before putting onto a patrol line distant from Port Arthur. There are hills behind the harbour there, and even the Russkis will have lookout towers on them, so we need to make our distance at least forty miles south at its nearest point.”
Coulthorne retired to his chart table and busied himself, rather ostentatiously, showing his new assistant, Knuyper, the precise techniques he preferred to use.
“Very convenient, being within sight of land for part of the patrol. We can pick landmarks for triangulation – there are some recognisable hills. No reason why we should not make our turns within half a cable of the same point every time, Knuyper.”
It was ambitious but far preferable to a slapdash, ‘good enough’ approach. Magnus approved.
“What have you in mind for lookouts, Mr Knowles?”
“Four at the mastheads, sir, one at each to watch only the sector where we may expect the gunrunner to come from. Relieve them at hourly intervals, sir. The strain of watching for a specific ship can be hard on them. One hour on and one off for their watch, sir. Selected and reliable men, sir.”
“Very good. What is your plan for the night hours?”
“Unchanged, sir. Easier to pick up a coal-burner at night, sir, especially if she is running at speed – always some hot ashes glowing at the top of the smokestack, can be actual flame on occasion.”
“Excellent. I am to be called for every sighting, day or night. Officer of the watch to turn towards before alerting me and hands to be sent to stations immediately. Small arms and ammunition to be issued tomorrow and to be kept by the petty officers at convenient places where they can be reached quickly; oversee that, Mr Knowles. Galley to be ready to make sandwiches and cocoa for all hands during the night. The men may be at their stations for many hours at a time and extra food will do them good.”
&nb
sp; “Costly, sir. The galley will need to bake extra loaves, sir.”
“It won’t go to waste, Mr Knowles. Anything unused can go to the unofficials.”
Mr Knowles did not approve. There were at least fifty Chinese aboard in addition to the crew of about two hundred and fifty men. The ship’s laundry was all Chinese and the stokehold had coolies who did much of the hard labour. They stayed out of sight and were paid very little and brought their own food aboard. They were not there as far as the officers were concerned and allowing them to eat from the galley might amount to a recognition of their existence.
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Nothing to be thrown over the side, Mr Knowles.”
A direct order would not be contravened and could not be misunderstood, however much Knowles resented it.
“Speed, sir?”
“Keep Mr Lockhart happy, make eight knots on the patrol line. Keep him informed of every sighting and he must be ready to give me everything on call.”
Knowles shook his head.
“Thirty minutes at least, sir, to go from eight to fifteen knots.”
“Accepted, Mr Knowles, but if we have to go in pursuit we will probably have failed. We must come alongside her without raising the alarm. If she runs, she will have the chance to scuttle herself. If that happens, we are in trouble. Actually, of course, I am in far deeper trouble than you, but it will always be on your service record that you were First when Eskdale was booted out of the Navy.”
Knowles knew that, and the Navy was his only possible career. If Magnus received the noble order of the boot, he would be able to pick up the pieces and make a rich living with Blantyres. Knowles would be left with his promotion prospects fatally impaired and nowhere to go, unless he could find a job as first mate on a merchantman, leading eventually to master of his own ship. The chances of getting a civilian job were small – the shipping lines all knew why officers left the Navy.
“Better get it right, hadn’t we, sir. Which of the midshipmen do you want as your doggie when it comes to boarding, sir?”
Chinese Whispers Page 19
