The Cruise of the Albatros

by E. C. Williams

  “In late pre-Troubles times, the Comoros, except for Mayotte, voted to leave French control and become an independent state. Mayotte voted to become an overseas department of France. All of the islands of the Comoros, including Grande Comore, were very densely populated, and the country was one of the poorest on Earth.

  “The Comoros are volcanic islands, and the resurgence of vulcanism along with the other Troubles hit Grande Comore particularly hard, with multiple devastating eruptions of Mount Karthala. The disruption of international trade, too, doomed most of the inhabitants to starvation, since Comoran agriculture and fisheries could not support more than a fraction of the late pre-Troubles population.”

  Christie paused, and Sam had a moment to reflect on what life on Grande Comore must have been like during the Troubles, as an already-poor population, starving and desperate, struggled to survive.

  “Grande Comore, as well as the other large islands of the archipelago, retain a very small remnant population of primitive hunter-gatherers. According to reports by Nosy Be fishermen and salvors, the native Comorans are extremely shy of strangers, and actively hostile if approached. As a result, there has been no attempt at Kerguelenian settlement of the islands.”

  “Could the island support a larger population, with trade and modern agricultural and fishing methods?

  “Oh, without a doubt, Commodore. The Comoros were first settled by African and Arab voyagers centuries before European explorers arrived in the Indian Ocean. There are indications in the literature Dallas reviewed that the Comorans carried on an active maritime trade with Africa and Madagascar from prehistory right down to the times of the Troubles. And the islanders were apparently self-sufficient in food, through fishing and rice and vegetable cultivation, for most of their history, until a population boom in the twentieth century.”

  “What about harbors, anchorages?”

  “There's only one harbor on Grande Comore, on the west coast, and it's not very good, being open to northerly winds. It was improved in pre-Troubles times with an artificial mole protecting an anchorage from southerly and south-westerly winds. There is an artificial basin, apparently intended originally for small inter-island craft and fishing vessels. It wasn't big or deep enough for pre-Troubles ocean-going ships, but could handle modern dhows and schooners if it hasn't silted up. The ancient commercial dock was on the east side of the mole, and could berth only one or two deep-draft ships. The port served Moroni, a large town that was the political capital of the island and of the archipelago – except for Mayotte, as I mentioned.”

  Christie paused again, and Sam considered the information so far presented. It sounded as if the island would be a good settlement location for the Caliphate, and therefore a permanent base for raids on Kerg settlements and shipping. He doubted if the pirates would share the moral qualms of Kerguelenians about occupying territory against the wishes of any indigenous remnant population.

  “And this might be relevant, Commodore,” Christie added. “The Comorans were Muslim in pre-Troubles times – almost one hundred percent.”

  “Do you suppose the remnant population is still Muslim?”

  “No information, sir. If I had to guess … but I suppose I shouldn't guess.”

  “Go ahead and guess, Mike. We won't hold it against you if you're wrong.”

  “Well, revealed religions, like Christianity or Islam or Buddhism, are based on holy books – scriptures – from which an elaborate theology is derived. It's hard to see how religions like this could survive in the same form in a post-literate culture of hunter-gatherers. The remnant populations we know about practice animistic religions, but I suppose in this case a sort of folk Islam could survive, mixed with animistic elements.”

  Sam thought of himself as educated, but he had no idea what the words “Buddhism” or “animistic” meant, and that made him realize, not for the first time, just how narrow and specialized was the learning he had acquired. He also had no intention of betraying his ignorance by asking what these terms meant, especially since they were irrelevant to his present concerns. What was most interesting about this information was the fact that it made Grande Comore's remnant population sound as if it might be a fertile field for Islamic missionaries, adding to its attractiveness to the Caliphate as a potential settlement site. The lack of good harbors was an argument against this – but the pre-Troubles Comorans had managed, hadn't they? Apparently for centuries.

  “Thanks, Mike – a very complete and informative brief. If you think of anything else that may be relevant, don't hesitate to let me know, even if it's speculative.”

  “Aye aye, Commodore.”

  “Pass the word for the XO,” Sam said to his phone talker. This was a violation of the rule that the CO and XO should remain physically separated when the vessel was at a higher than normal state of readiness – but it was Sam's rule, so he could break it when he thought fit.

  When Al arrived on the quarterdeck, Sam briefly summarized what he had learned from Christie, and added, “For these reasons, the Comoros, and especially Grande Comore, look more than ever like a place that would be attractive to the Caliphate for a permanent settlement supporting a base for raiding Kerg settlements and shipping. If they're not there yet, I think they will be soon. Of course, the obvious course of action for us would be to beat 'em to the punch with a well-armed Kerg settlement there, but for political reasons that's just not in the cards.

  “Bottom line: let's be ready to find a settlement being established this trip; and if they're not there yet, we'll have to visit the island at fairly frequent intervals. Obviously, it'll be easier to disrupt a settlement in its early phases than to attack it when it's firmly established.

  “Anyway, now you're in the picture. I wanted you to know everything I do in case I turn my ankle or something.” It was considered bad luck to talk of being wounded or killed, so the Albatros's crew, officers and seamen alike, always used euphemisms in referring to that possibility.

  “Roger that, Commodore.”

  “So, back forward with you now, Al. I'll probably set battle stations once we round the northern tip of the island, just in case.”

  However, once they passed the northern end of Grande Comore, it became clear that the passage down the west coast to the ancient harbor of Moroni would be a long, slow beat into light and variable southerly breezes, so Sam decided to hold off on setting battle stations to avoid tiring the crews too much. The squadron had to tack several times, a tedious process in the frustratingly light and shifting breeze. Each schooner got into irons once, and had to fall off to build up some headway for another try. Sam was on the verge of ordering the motor sloop launched to tow her head around when Albatros finally managed to bring her bow through the wind. Successive tacks took the two vessels well off, then back in close to the green shore of the island.

  This was an anxious couple of hours for Sam. If there were pirate dhows in Moroni harbor, they had the weather gage – they could run down-wind quickly to the attack, possibly catching the Joan and the Albatros during one of their slow, tedious tacks. During their last port tack, a long board off shore that would set them up for a close reach into Moroni harbor, he ordered the motor sloop launched and made fast for towing alongside. He signaled the Joan to do the same with her motor whaleboat.

  As they approached the harbor entrance, multiple telescopes on both schooners were focused landward, intently searching for any sign of the enemy. It became apparent that there were no vessels at anchor or alongside the ruined mole, not even any small craft drawn up on the muddy foreshore adjacent to the mole. Sam had so convinced himself that Grande Comore was the logical, the only, site for a pirate base that he felt a tremendous let-down. Rather irrationally, he was furious at the pirates for failing to meet his expectations.

  Still, “absence of evidence is not evidence of absence” as he remembered reading somewhere. He ordered the motor sloop and Joan's motor whaleboat armed with a one-inch rifle each, and a squad of riflemen embar
ked, to explore the harbor. The motor sloop was to search the harbor and the ancient small-craft basin, taking soundings as she went, while the whaleboat hung back as a floating reserve, in case of trouble. The O-in-C's of each vessel had been given strict orders not to engage any hostile indigenous peoples encountered, but if attacked to fall back.

  Sam watched through his telescope from the deck of the Albatros, hove-to a mile off the entrance to the harbor, as the motor sloop quartered the anchorage, taking soundings and visual bearings on landmarks ashore to update their charts. It then approached the small-craft basin, but hesitated at the entrance, remaining outside until Sam impatiently ordered, “Make to motor sloop: 'Take soundings in basin.'” The shutter on the schooner's big search/signal light clattered away, and the midshipman of the watch strained to make out the sloop's reply, its smaller, battery-powered light dim in the bright tropical sun.

  The midshipman said: “From motor sloop, sir: 'Basin entrance blocked by wreck.'” There was a pause as the sloop's signal light flickered some more. “'Basin has several visible sunken wrecks, appears silted up.'”

  “Very well. Make to sloop: 'Land if possible to do so safely.'” The sloop's orders, if no pirates were encountered, were to land the riflemen to explore for evidence of previous visits by the pirates, but always remaining within site of the shore.

  Sam watched without bothering with his telescope as the sloop backed away from the entrance to the basin and turned toward the shore, proceeding slowly and maneuvering to avoid obstacles not visible from the schooner. The sloop was on the verge of beaching when it hastily backed away, well out into the harbor. It's signal lamp flickered.

  “From sloop, sir: 'Under attack from shore.'”

  Sam snatched up his telescope and saw a half-dozen figures capering at the water's edge, waving what appeared to be long sticks – spears? No, longbows, for they were loosing arrows that fell disconcertingly close to the sloop until she had backed out of range.

  “Pirates, sir?” asked the mid nervously.

  “No – just a welcoming delegation of the locals,” Sam replied dryly. Then he said to his phone talker, “To XO: Fire one round of 37 mm well over and wide of the attackers.”

  Accordingly, the 37 mm rifle barked, and a round exploded in the ruins of the town well beyond the native war party. Predictably, they turned and ran, vanishing into the dense scrub covering the ruins of the town. Sam wondered if they had suffered previously from pirate gunnery, or were simply frightened by the noise and flash. He also knew there was nothing whatever he could have done if they had called his bluff, because bluff it was; he could not fire on local people even when they were hostile.

  “Make to motor sloop: 'Belay landing. Return to ship.'” It was firm Kerguelen policy dating from the very beginning of the settlement period to avoid confrontations with indigenous populations and respect their territories, even when the Kergs had an overwhelming superiority, as was the case here. It was frustrating, because it meant he could not search for evidence that the pirates had visited the island, perhaps on a survey expedition preparatory to settlement.

  “Make to Joan: 'Will proceed southward to Moheli once boats recovered.'” The signal light shutter clattered away. They were relying more and more on signal lights rather than flag hoists now, as being simply quicker and more convenient, except when distance combined with bright sunlight made the lights too hard to read. Sam glanced upward to be sure the two-flag hoist “Conform to my movements” was still flying.

  From off Moroni to Moheli's only port, Fomboni, was a distance of less than 60 miles, but if the present light and fickle winds continued, Sam figured the trip would take a day or more.

  This proved to be an optimistic estimate. The wind died away to a mere breath that barely ruffled the surface of the swell and when it blew at all shifted infuriatingly and randomly between south-west and south-south-east. It was too little to move the schooners, beamy bluff-bowed ex-cargo carriers that they were, and they gradually slowed until they lost steerage way and wallowed in the swell, sails slack and booms swinging with the roll.

  There was no help for it. Sam ordered the motor sloop launched, and a glance astern told him that he had no need to signal Joan to do the same; she was already swinging out her motor whaleboat. Towlines were rigged, and the two schooners began to slowly make way on a course for Moheli. Joan's towline was adjusted so that her motor whaleboat was just off Albatros's stern quarter, the better to conform to the flagship's movements.

  Joan was nearly identical in tonnage to Albatros, but her motor whaleboat had only just more than half the horsepower of the motor sloop. Not for the first time, Sam regretted the false economy that made the Council bean-counters force this half-a-loaf measure on him. It meant that the speed of both vessels was constrained to the maximum speed at which the whaleboat could tow Joan – just under two knots in a calm sea. The course to Moheli meant that when they could motor-sail – when the breeze rose above the imperceptible – it put the schooners on a heading that varied between a close reach and a beat, so the sails were trimmed accordingly. It was surprising to Sam how a puff of wind that was barely detectable , just enough to belly the sails a bit, could so ease the strain on the towlines as to allow the towboats to surge ahead noticeably.

  As he paced the quarterdeck, Sam passed the time by thinking about alternative towing arrangements that might make full use of the power of both towing vessels. He considered various towing bridle rigs, and rejected them as likely to make no difference. He kept going back to his first thought: a simple tandem arrangement, towlines connecting the motor sloop in the lead, then the whaleboat, then the two schooners. With both power boats running full at full power, would there be a net gain in speed? Or would the sloop merely be towing all three vessels while the whaleboat's prop just churned the water uselessly? Wouldn't it make full use of the power of both towboats if each had its own towline on the lead schooner, pulling at an angle from the course to be made good? He would have to discuss it with Bill Ennis, whose shiphandling skills he respected even above those of Mr. Mooney. In any event, it was an academic exercise. The present arrangement was the most flexible, giving each schooner the essential freedom to maneuver in the case of contact with the enemy. It was thus the only arrangement he would countenance while the squadron was in the IO.

  Grande Comore dwindled astern very gradually, and the schooners set Condition Alfa, then an hour later the routine at-sea watch rotation. After dark, the breeze freshened somewhat, enough for the schooners to recover their motor boats and make way under sail alone. They raised the island of Moheli at mid-morning the next day.

  Sam passed the word for Mr. Christie, for a brief on the island of Moheli. Christie of course expected this, and was ready. Or as ready as he could be.

  “I'm sorry, Commodore, but we have very little information on Moheli,” he said. “It had a small population in pre-Troubles times, and wasn't much visited even then. The ancient commercial port was a couple of klicks south of a town called Fomboni, on the northern coast, and was simply a long mole and pier. The pier is in ruins now and unusable. There is safe anchorage off the pier, sheltered from southerly winds, but a dangerous reef offshore to the north has to be avoided to reach it. There are a couple of anchorages off the southern coast, sheltered from the north-east monsoon. Dallas could find very little about Moheli in the Institute's holdings. This info comes from a total of only two Kerg visits to the island, both by Nosy Be salvors mining the ruins of Fomboni town for scrap metal. The visits were a half-century apart. We don't even know if the island is inhabited.

  “And that's it, sir – all I have,” he finished apologetically.

  “No worries, Mike. You can only work with what you have. Thanks.”

  When Lieutenant Christie had departed the quarterdeck, Sam said to Mooney, who was the watch officer, “Doesn't sound too promising, does it, Pilot? As a haven for pirates, I mean. They'd want a better harbor, at a minimum.”

  “No, sir,
it doesn't. Still, we could update our navigational information, couldn't we?”

  “Oh, sure – and I take nothing for granted about the pirates. They could choose Moheli for a base just because it seems an unlikely choice. We'll check it out.”

  The two schooners hove to off Fomboni just before noon, and launched the motor sloop and motor whaleboat. Both boats were armed with one-inch rifles and manned by armed seamen-gunners. They sounded along the reef and into the harbor, such as it was, and along the ruined mole, and finally the motor launch landed on a muddy beach adjacent to the mole. A landing party, under strict orders to remain on the shore and within sight of the whaleboat and the schooners, explored northward as far as the ruins of Fomboni town, and then southward for about a kilometer, without finding anything of interest. One seaman reported that he saw a naked or near-naked man in the distance, who ran away and hid on catching sight of the party; one of his mates verified this. So now they knew that Moheli had a remnant population after all.

  The squadron recovered its boats and sailed around the eastern tip of the island to survey the anchorages on the southern coast. Wary of a lee shore, Sam ordered the schooners hove to a good three miles off and and launched the motor boats.

  The boats sounded out the charted anchorages, which were inshore of, and partially sheltered by, a couple of islets, and noted the positions of several small ancient wrecks. These anchorages were better than the one off the ancient port, in that they were fully sheltered from northerly winds, and derived partial protection from southerlies by being in the lee of the islets. Nevertheless, the shore of the main island opposite was accessible only by small craft.