by Eric Flint
Eddie nodded. “As Ms. Koudsi says, it is porous. But to the Spanish, who just had a fleet grabbed away from them, this string of observation posts would be, at the very least, a huge inconvenience. At worst, it tells them that their disaster at Dominica could happen again. At any time. And it’s even more likely for any ships they might send along the chain’s long axis.”
Banckert frowned. “Might their ships be seen? Yes. But does that portend disaster?” He wagged a finger. “Only if we have ships nearby. But Commodore: is this even practicable? How do you mean to keep this vast expanse of water under observation? From isolated watch posts on all these islands? Many of which you have just agreed never to set foot upon again?”
Eddie smiled. “Yes: we put observation posts on all the islands. Each one furnished with your fine Dutch optics. As for having outposts on islands over which we have no jurisdiction, well, if we’re good neighbors, there’s growing evidence that our hosts would be happy to have a small number of us working as lookouts, way up on peaks they don’t frequent. Because our watchers will be under orders to share everything they see with any persons so authorized by the local cacique.”
Koudsi was nodding, Banckert was rubbing his jaw, Mike was staring hard at the map. It was Serooskereken who asked, “And assuming that you had a force close enough to intercept ships crossing this line of observation, how would that force be ordered to do so? Do you mean to furnish each of these observation posts with radios?”
Eddie shook his head sharply. “We don’t have enough. Besides, that would be like handing sets over to the Spanish. Once they become aware of our watch posts, they’ll surely learn—or deduce—that if they can’t see signals going back and forth, then we must be using radios. And I suspect the Spanish would go to extraordinary lengths to get their hands on that technology.”
Banckert nodded. “I agree. They know these radios are what is defeating them almost every time.”
Phipps looked and sounded a little less predatory. “So without radios, how do they communicate?”
“Mostly by heliograph. With good reflectors at preplotted locations, sunlight or even firelight will work. Any detection starts a chain of relays that sends the news on to the closest radio-equipped outpost.
“There would be a finite number of those, each placed so that every heliograph is within three relays of a radio. They’d also be defensible and have provisions for, and personnel trained in, destruction and disposal of the radio on extremely short notice.”
Banckert was no longer frowning. “Very well. But the gap between Trinidad and Grenada is much greater than thirty miles.”
Eddie nodded. “Trinidad is a special case. For now, I suggest we leave it aside to keep things simple.”
“Simple?” Corselles echoed, shaking his head. “It sounds anything but! All sorts of delays and failures could befall such a system.”
Tromp folded his hands. “As the commodore has emphasized, this plan has flaws and is unavoidably porous. The worst problem will be haze over the greater distances. But the true strategic value of this system is not that we may sortie out after any ship which crosses our line of observation, but that, so far as our enemies know, we might.”
Van Walbeeck nodded, but looked grim, possibly the first time Eddie had ever seen that expression on his face. “Some here today will not know that, before coming here, my work was in the East Indies. Lands of infinite and, to our eyes, trackless jungles.” Van Walbeeck looked like he was seeing—or remembering—ghosts. “The possibility, and fear, of native ambush was constant.” He gestured to the map. “This shall instill the same species of unremitting trepidation and anxiety in the Spanish. Will they be intercepted every time? No. When they are, will we always respond with a whole flotilla? Of course not. But since the Spanish cannot know when we will detect them or if we do have a flotilla to send, they must build that perpetual possibility into all their calculations. And that will cost them time, money, and tactical flexibility.
“And the cost to us? Negligible, for being able to observe almost everything they bring into this region. We shall have a measure of their numbers, whereas they will find it hard to estimate ours.”
Serooskereken grimaced. “Until they start building more of their own ships here.”
Eddie nodded. “Which will be the single greatest game changer. Which is why we must press these advantages now, because they are not permanent.”
Mike leaned back from studying the map. “And unless I miss my guess, you haven’t told us the other half of the reason for those watch posts.”
Of course it was the mariner among the skeptics who saw it first; Banckert was nodding before Mike had finished. “These are also your network of weather stations. All on high ground, all able to detect heavy weather from great distances and send that information promptly. Fast enough for it to actually be of use to a captain.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “And not a moment too soon. We are in hurricane season. If we can preserve ourselves against that misfortune, we will be glad of it.” He cocked an eye at Eddie. “So, you have made good your initial point and promise: this discussion of our security has gone far beyond our combat capabilities. I am satisfied.”
Serooskereken smiled. “I am, too, Commodore . . . but judging from your stance, I suspect there is at least one more security issue you wish us to consider.”
Eddie took a deep breath: all in, now. “There is. And I believe it to be so urgent that, if we do nothing else, we must address this: our fleet needs a home port.”
Corselles seemed ready to spit in frustration. Banckert’s frown was back. Ann Koudsi just shook her head.
But Phipps Serooskereken was smiling. “I suspected, since you saved this for last, it would also be the most confounding. Please: explain this quickly, or I will need to fortify myself with a measure of rum.”
Eddie smiled back. “Okay. So earlier, Admiral Banckert pointed out that the proximity of all the islands in the chain wasn’t as helpful as it looked because it still means that almost all of our forces have to stay pretty close to St. Eustatia.”
Nods, except from Tromp, van Walbeeck, and Mike: they knew what was coming.
Eddie didn’t let up. “No one disputes that we are strong here. This is where we’ve stationed all our ships, except for those protecting Trinidad. Same for land forces. It’s where we have our government, our intercontinental radio, the great majority of our population and food production, and now, with a real town and trading hub developing, where we are seeing some local industry starting.”
Serooskereken was frowning, Banckert almost as much. Corselles looked lost. Koudsi looked suspiciously from Eddie to Mike and then back at Eddie before observing, “We’ve got all our eggs in one basket.”
Phipps was nodding. “If we site all our power on St. Eustatia, we are inviting its destruction.”
Banckert nodded. “Which encourages the Spanish to concentrate all their forces here, because if we lose this place, we are done. They have many options when they must retreat, regroup, repair. We have but this one.”
Corselles was looking from face to face, as if everyone in the room had become suddenly unrecognizable. “So we build quickly! We line our shores with batteries of the cannons that were taken from La Flota! We have many new workers and artisans among the newly arrived! We have new wealth and new weapons.”
Koudsi shook her head. “That’s just putting more eggs in the same, single basket.”
Eddie nodded. “The more you keep building up, the more you make St. Eustatia, and particularly Oranjestad, an irresistible target for the Spanish. To use an expression from my time, attacking it becomes the strategic equivalent of one-stop shopping for them.”
Banckert frowned. “‘One-stop shopping’?”
“Yes,” said Koudsi with a small grim smile. “It means going to a store where you can buy everything you need, all under one roof. So, if you put all your economic and military and industrial and agricultural power here, you’re inviting—
you are forcing—the Spanish to come at us with everything they have, casualties be damned. Because if they win that battle, they win the whole war. We’d be done.”
Eddie nodded. “And that is why the industries and facilities that are essential to our defense must not be located here. Because—”
“—because,” Phipps picked up with a shrewd smile, “St. Eustatia’s security cannot be assured by defenses we build here. The only way to make it less vulnerable is to make it a less decisive target.” He nodded. “So, what do you propose?”
“Okay, this is going to sound really weird—”
Banckert snorted. “We have come to expect no less, jonger!”
Eddie smiled. “So, what if our primary military power was near enough to engage any enemy that threatens Oranjestad, but is so difficult to reach that it’s hard to attack?”
Serooskereken was rubbing his chin. “And where would that be?”
Eddie wasn’t religious, but he had a fleeting desire to cross himself, just for luck. Or grace. Or whatever the hell you got by crossing yourself.
Banckert’s growl brought him back to the moment. “Where is this place?”
He nodded eastward. “Antigua.”
Corselles threw up his hands. “You up-timers baffle me. You make such progress in this world by learning from history, and then, at just those moments when its lessons are the most clear, you ignore it. Commodore, if I recall the up-time accounts correctly, Antigua did not develop until much later. As you related, it has almost no fresh water, has limited arable land, and, crucially, is a full thirty nautical miles east of the leeward seaway which is so salutary to our economic development.”
Eddie nodded. “Which is exactly why I am proposing it as the home of our military power and essential industries.”
“I see,” Corselles drawled sarcastically. “So even though St. Eustatia is well situated and well favored for commerce and agriculture, we should instead build another port with new defenses on an island that shows no promise for either enterprise?”
Ah, there it is. You’re thinking about the dollars and cents—well, guilders and groots—that might get taken out of your rice bowl. Eddie put on his best easy smile. “Actually, Lieutenant Governor Corselles, my plan will help St. Eustatia’s economy, not diminish it.
“Take a good look at the bay the next time you’re taking a seaside stroll. It doesn’t have much of an anchorage. That’s why it got so crowded so quickly while the market was at its peak.
“Now, imagine how much more room there would be if most of the fleet’s hulls weren’t out there. How many of the billets currently holding soldiers could be freed up for new colonists, merchants, warehouses. And how all the men in the fleet and in industries over on Antigua would be coming back here regularly, with lots of coin and a powerful urge to spend it.”
Corselles looked sideways, frowning. “Go on.”
“First, last, and foremost: Antigua is a better home for the fleet. For starters, it’s the only hurricane hole in this part of the Caribbean.”
While Banckert nodded emphatically, Koudsi frowned. “‘Hurricane hole’? That sounds like a bar for beach bums out on the Keys.”
“Yeah, well, the Keys wishes it had a hurricane hole. Here’s why: a hurricane hole is a harbor, usually a long narrow one with a leeward mouth, where ships are most likely to be able to ride out even the worst storms. And that’s just where the up-time town of St. John’s was built: at the end of a long, leeward-facing harbor of unusual depth. And, because it is the easternmost of all the Leeward Islands, it is a great “first landfall” point for any flotilla or merchant convoy coming across from Europe. And put a star next to that if you want those arrivals and the cargo they off-load to remain less likely to get seen by the eyes of casual informers.
“Also, because it is so far to the east, Antigua is sheltered from direct Spanish incursions . . . because they’d have to travel over our line of observation posts in order to get to it. Also, they’d be sailing straight into the wind as they’re trying to ‘quickly slip past’ the two most populated islands in the area: St. Eustatia and St. Christopher.”
Eddie looked at them and knew he had them. Time to stop, despite all the other advantages he could cite. But still . . . he couldn’t resist putting the truly sweet icing on the cake: “And when you get a chance, take a look at the distance from St. John’s Harbor to the leeward sides of those same two, highly populated, islands that the Spanish might think of attacking. Fifty-five miles. Let me put that in terms of defense.
“Just for a moment, forget that when you’re sailing here from Antigua, you can count on following seas and winds over your quarter. Forget everything but this: a cruiser steaming along at twelve knots solely under its own power can reach the intervention point for either of those islands in just four hours.
“Now, add this into the equation: if the Spanish are coming at the islands from up or down the Lesser Antilles, they’ll be spotted dozens of miles away. Let’s say only twenty. Now let’s say that the Spanish are doing four knots, because God really is on their side—”
Banckert grinned. “Twenty miles would take them five hours. So the steamships from Antigua would be there to greet them when they arrive. And it would be even worse for them if they were sailing straight out of the west: they would be tacking across a headwind.” He leaned back. “I support this idea of a base at Antigua.”
Phipps’ glance went from Tromp to van Walbeeck, and briefly over to Mike. His slow smile was sly. “The commodore would not have been allowed to make his case today if those three gentlemen were not already of a similar mind.” He leaned back. “As am I. Pieter?”
Corselles threw his hands up one last time. “It sounds prudent.” Which clearly meant, I don’t know, but I trust your judgment. I guess.
Banckert rubbed his hands. “So, we are done! Now, where’s that rum?”
Chapter 31
Oranjestad, St. Eustatia
Sophie Rantzau opened the door to the infirmary, simultaneously reflecting that it really should be fitted with a lock, while also being delighted to live in a place where locks were simply not necessary. “Dr. Brandão?” she called.
A very unexpected voice answered. “Dr. Brandão is elsewhere, for the nonce. I informed him there was an urgent case.”
Sophie was glad she didn’t gasp in surprise—or at the sharp twist of conflicting emotions: the voice was Hugh O’Donnell’s. She turned, saw him in the shadows, leaning against the wall. It was dim, but it looked like he was smiling. Insufferable! But also very . . . appealing. “You lied to Dr. Brandão?”
“I did not.”
“Then what case is this, that so needs his immediate presence?”
“I didn’t say I told him it required his presence. Indeed, at this particular moment, it needs his absence. As far as whose case I was telling him about . . . well, it’s yours.”
She didn’t know which surge of indignation to release first: that Hugh—that anyone—would presume to know what she needed, or that he had revealed her private affairs to another person without any right or allowance to do so. She unleashed the latter without even attempting to limit the archness of her tone. “So you took it upon yourself to involve Dr. Brandão in our, er, my—?”
Hugh smiled. “I involved him in nothing, dear Sophie. He is a wise man. All I had to say was that you were suffering from, well, a long-standing heart ailment. He understood that right enough.”
“He did?”
Hugh stepped closer. “Sophie, I must apologize for taking the liberty of making this personal observation—”
“Then don’t!”
“—but your reserve is at odds with your nature. For those who get to know you, well, that’s as plain as black on a witch’s cat.”
“And you presume to know me so well, Lord—?”
“I am Hugh. We agreed. I am not Lord O’Donnell, or any other title, to you. Not now or ever again. And I do not have to know you so very long to also k
now that something has wounded you deep in your heart. The heart that rose up and danced as you did, just a few weeks ago.”
Sophie remembered to breathe. And to hold on to some vestige of her entirely justified indignation: “Well . . . well, you might have come to see me personally, rather than resorting to this subterfuge.”
Hugh’s answering grin was crooked. “Oh, you must mean I should have called upon you at home? Which I tried twice a day after the dance, and then every day since I came back from another trip to Montserrat. At first, I actually thought you might be ill, since your servant reported you to be ‘indisposed.’” He sighed. “It had me thinking that perhaps the experience of dancing with me was so very revolting that you were nauseous for days on end.”
She shook her head in sharp denial before she could check that honest reflex. Or before she saw his smile straighten and one eyebrow lift in response to her reaction. Despite herself, despite her resolve, she smiled back, then laughed softly. “You are incorrigible.”
“If you’d be seeking an insult to cut me to the quick, you’ll need to find another, Sophie. I’ve been scolded for that failing since before I was in long pants. Not sure I was even out of the crib.” His eyes grew serious and very soft. “Now: tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what had you running out the door instead of dancing the rest of the night with me?”
For the shortest instant, Sophie did not see Hugh, but a forked pathway. One branch was well known and dark; the other was unfamiliar but very bright. And in looking down the latter, she discovered herself seeing Hugh’s face again, half-lit by a ray of the morning light slipping in through the unlatched storm shutters.
“I did not avoid you out of aversion, Lord . . . Hugh. I avoided you out of shame.”
“Shame?” His face was truly puzzled.
Sophie’s breath caught. Perhaps Sehested had been kind, or at least moderate, when recounting the sordid details and disgraces of her family. But it was impossible to think—to hope—that anyone could both tell the truth and make those events anything less than appalling or, frankly, revolting.
