Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series)

by Schettler, John

  Nikolin’s signal was sent, but the steamship Captain continued his protest, stating that any boarding would be illegal under international law and he was well within his rights to prevent it.

  “Prevent it?” Karpov smiled. “I believe this man needs a little lesson or two. Mister Samsonov, if you please.”

  “Captain?”

  “Forward bow gun, as before with the Japanese tramp steamer. Give them a shot across the bow.”

  “Aye, sir.” Karpov watched the deck gun quickly rotate to bear on the target with a single sharp recoil as the round was sent on its way. Then they waited, and the protest coming now from the Monteagle was ever more strident.

  “Sir,” said Nikolin. “They now threaten to file a formal protest with the Russian government and state our conduct amounts to piracy and is outrageous.”

  “Outrageous? My, what a colorful man. One more round, Mister Samsonov. I want you to hit the aft quarter of the ship if possible. Aim for that solitary smokestack.” Then to Nikolin he said: “Let them know we will disable their engines if they fail to cooperate.”

  The sound of the gun was sharp in the air again, and the round hit home with a bright flash. It ignited a fire aft and Karpov laughed as he looked through his field glasses seeing how the other ship’s crew scrambled to put out the flames.

  “Ask that upstart sea Captain if he wants me to repeat the lesson,” said Karpov, a smug look on his face.

  The steamer quickly flew a white flag in return, and the boarding party had no further trouble making their inspection of the ship. There they found and confiscated five sizable mail bags, and removed them. When they returned to Kirov the Captain told them to store the material and he would look it over later.

  “Did you have any trouble, Sergeant?” he asked over the intercom.

  “No sir, but there were casualties on the ship when we got there. The second round aft killed three civilians.”

  “Regrettable,” said Karpov. “Well it can’t be helped. Perhaps that sea Captain over there will get the wax out of his ears and listen the next time he’s given an order.”

  To strengthen the lesson Karpov had Nikolin send over one last blunt message of warning. “RMS Monteagle. You are instructed to make for the nearest port and if you are found in these waters again, you will be sunk.”

  Nikolin sent the message, but it went much farther than he or Karpov ever could have imagined, for among the 97 passengers booking accommodations on the Monteagle that day were several American citizens who had the unfortunate luck to be watching the incident from the aft gunwale of the steamer. Samsonov’s second round ended three lives, and the lives of all their successive generations, in one swift blow. And it also lit a fuse that burned all the way to the fiery heart of a most extraordinary man, and one determined to protect and defend the lives of American citizens, no matter where they were found in the world.

  * * *

  Theodore Roosevelt was in a good mood that morning, looking over reports on the progress of his latest grand venture. “Yes, we’ve fairly well kept all European powers at bay for the last hundred years, lately finishing with the Spanish, Mister Mahan.” The noted naval strategist was with the Roosevelt that day at the Presidential hunting camp in Yellowstone. “That was, in no small part due to our adoption of your policies concerning naval power, as you well know. As this new century begins the world has been impressed by only two things achieved by the United States. The first was the Panama Canal project, joining two oceans in a grand feat of engineering. The second is the voyage of our Great White Fleet in circumnavigating the world. Nothing has occurred in the history of the navy of greater and more significance to this country. It is the most important service I have ever rendered in peacetime to this nation when I secured funding for the voyage and forced it down the throats of those dandies in Congress. After we finish with this leg of the voyage nobody will forget that the American coast is on the Pacific as well as the Atlantic.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly, Mister President. Sea power is the fundamental prerequisite for national greatness, the British being the most outstanding example of that in centuries past.”

  “Yes, well what do you think of the Japanese? They seem to have read your books and papers as well Mister Mahan. The defeat of the Russian Pacific and Baltic Fleets was truly stunning in 1905. I don’t have to tell you that the United States might soon have to face Japan as a major Pacific power.”

  “That may indeed be our national destiny, Mister President. We now control Hawaii, and the Philippines with our own recent victory over a European power—with much thanks to your efforts in that hot little war. The Spanish certainly learned a good lesson. Yes, it may come to a confrontation with Japan in time as well.”

  “Our fleet is already in the Pacific and heading west, though in spite of the rumors circulating, I don’t think the Japanese have any plans to confront us there. Do you agree that the situation in Europe remains stable for the moment?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Then we have nothing to fear by sending the whole fleet west into the Pacific.”

  “Not at the moment, sir. There will be trouble in Europe soon, I fear, but not where we are concerned. Germany is the one to watch there. In time it could come to war. In the meantime, however, this voyage west is the perfect demonstration of our ability to move the fleet from the Atlantic to the Pacific any time we choose. And it will establish the fact that we have strong Pacific bases to support that fleet, and friends in Australia and New Zealand as well.”

  The reception of the Great White Fleet had been overwhelming on the West coast, with over 300,000 turning out in San Francisco to see the fleet off to the Pacific. They were well on their way to achieving Roosevelt’s goal of circumnavigating the globe, but now the greatest ocean on earth lay before them, and there was a very long way to go. Thus far the voyage from the east coast had gone very well, and the fleet ships held up admirably under some very difficult sea conditions, particularly in rounding the straits of Magellan.

  By the time the fleet reached San Francisco, however, two battleships had to stay there due to mechanical problems, the Maine and the Alabama, but they were replaced by Nebraska and Wisconsin. At the same time an ailing Admiral Evans who had commanded the fleet on its journey from Hampton Roads was also replaced by Admiral Sperry. Two Squadrons, each with two divisions of four battleships, would leave San Francisco, sixteen warships attended by several storeships, tenders, and the hospital ship Relief with the repair ship Panther. It was indeed a grand venture, an amazing show of both seamanship as well as America’s growing industrial and military prowess. But it would soon be darkened by the shadow of a war that no one of that day had discussed or expected.

  A rider came pounding into the camp on a swirl of dust, dismounting quickly and huffing up to Roosevelt where he sat by the morning campfire. He stepped smartly up, saluting as he came, and reached into a leather dispatch pouch at his hip.

  “Mister President, sir. News from the Pacific!”

  “Well what is it that needs a special courier, soldier? Couldn’t it wait until I get the morning Paper? You look like you’ve been riding all night.”

  “It’s from Mister Root, sir. There’s been a new outbreak of hostilities between Japan and Russia.” Root was the former secretary of war, replaced by William Howard Taft after Roosevelt won the election of 1904. Now he served as the current Secretary of State, and he was a strong proponent of military preparedness as well.

  “Japan and Russia? I thought we settled that affair years ago. Let me see it.” Roosevelt reached for the dispatch, reaching into this buckskin shirt pocket to fetch out his eyeglasses. “Well, well, well…Your presence here may be fortuitous, Mister Mahan, though we may just have to postpone our hunt this morning.”

  “I certainly hope the Russians haven’t crossed the border into Manchuria again, Mister President.”

  “Nothing so pedestrian, my man. Why this situation is right up your alley. There’s
been an engagement between Russian and Japanese warships in the Sea of Japan! A Russian battleship has apparently sunk Japanese commercial shipping and what’s this bit here?” The President leaned in closer, adjusting his eyepiece. “Well, by God, the Russians have fired on a Canadian steamship as well. American passengers were aboard and three were killed!”

  “That is regrettable, sir. Why would the Russians do such a thing?”

  Roosevelt folded his arms, clearly unhappy, a smoldering anger in him now. “Well God damnit, I thought I made it very clear what would happen when American citizens are harmed or interfered with overseas. That business in Morocco some years back was a strong lesson that we are not to be trifled with.”

  In 1904 a brigand, the Raisuli of the Rif of Morocco, had kidnapped citizens of the United States from their home in Tangiers, a man named Perdicaris and his son. With an election looming Roosevelt made a strong protest and declared “this government wants Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead!” The catchphrase galvanized the electorate and helped carry him to a second term, even though the ”gunboat diplomacy” he exercised in sending seven warships to Tangiers was more theater than anything else.

  “Are there any details, sir?” Mahan leaned in, eying the dispatch with some interest.

  “The details are plain enough, Mister Mahan. Some crazy Russian sea Captain has been taking pot shots at shipping in the Sea of Japan. Here….it says he has sunk a Japanese steamer, engaged the Japanese Navy, then slipped away to fire on a Canadian ship and kill three American citizens. I spent a good bit of political capital negotiating that damn treaty in Portsmouth, and the Russians got off easy. The Japanese wanted the whole of Sakhalin Island and we talked them out of that to save a little face for the Russians. Now where do they get off re-lighting that old powder keg?”

  “Does it name the ship involved, sir? The Russians had very little seaworthy in Vladivostok after that war.”

  “Which is why this makes so little sense. They were beaten to the canvas with two black eyes, a bloody nose, and a broken jaw! The Japanese inflicted a crushing defeat on them at Tsushima. Now they get up off the deck after the final bell has rung and take a sucker punch at the other fellow. That’s very unsportsman-like.”

  “And it’s also very unwise, sir. Russia can ill afford another conflict erupting with the Japanese.”

  “Yes… well they just hit the referee with this little swipe, Mister Mahan. Perhaps we need to let them know just how unwise that sucker punch was! You there!” The President turned to a staffer attending the campfire. “Take a message to Sperry on the Great White Fleet. Tell them I want them to make short work of that port call in Hawaii and get the fleet to Yokohama instead of Manila first. I want them there as soon as possible.”

  Mahan raised his eyebrows at that. “You’re going to change the fleet’s itinerary? Might we be overreacting just a tad at this incident, sir?”

  “Overreacting? That’s a thing for children and women, Mister Mahan. The President of the United States doesn’t overreact. He does precisely what he intends. I think a little restructuring of the fleet’s itinerary will be all that’s required here. The Russians will certainly take notice. The fleet wasn’t due to visit Japan until October, but I want it in Japanese home waters at the earliest possible opportunity. We’ll send another message to the Japanese Ambassador and tell them we are shocked to hear of this incident and will make every effort to set the matter right. If Russia and Japan decide to get into the ring again, this time our referee will be the sixteen battleships of the Great White Fleet!”

  Chapter 33

  Vice Admiral Hedworth Lambton-Meux put down the day’s copy of the London Gazette, pleased to have it so soon after publication. It was now being sent by wire to most of the important stations, and China Station was important, as he was, recently installed here to replace Vice-Admiral Moore. He had taken an interest in the stories out of London earlier that month, concerning the strange midnight glow in the sky. Most unusual.

  “Well,” he said, to the sea Captain before him,” we may have something more to do this week than loll about in the heat.” He read the notice from the paper aloud now: “Buckingham Palace, July 21, 1908. His Excellency Count Komura, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary from his Majesty the Emperor of Japan is now to take leave of His Majesty on the termination of his Mission.”

  He looked at Captain Lewis Clinton-Baker over his reading glasses. “It appears they are changing shoes again there, which will mean we’ll probably receive a formal visit here as well. It’s a pity we have to pay all this lip service to the Japanese these days, but things have certainly changed, have they not?”

  “They have indeed sir, and this is precisely the occasion of my visit this morning.”

  “Oh? What is it now, Captain Baker?”

  “Shuffling some personnel about here too, Admiral. I’ve had an officer go down with fever and will need to fill out the bridge crew on King Alfred for the planned training exercises.” He handed a thin brown file to the Admiral now, obviously the candidate he had in mind for the new posting.

  “How is the ship, Captain?”

  “In good trim, sir. Fit as a fiddle.”

  King Alfred was the current flagship of the British Pacific Squadron operating out of the China Station at Weihaiwei harbor. Situated on the long western peninsula of Shandong Province, it sat right at the edge of the gateway to the Yellow sea, and only Hong Kong superseded it in strategic importance from the British perspective. From Weihaiwei the Royal Navy could keep a quiet watch on all the sea traffic flowing into the Yellow Sea, mostly bound for Port Arthur and Dailan, which had been the scene of much conflict in recent years as the gateway to Manchuria.

  ‘The Old Man of Asia,’ China, had been ailing again after his defeat by Japan before the turn of the century, and the meddling of many European powers in Manchuko. Now it was the Japanese, still flush with their great victory over Russia in the Russo-Japanese war of 1904-05. Yet through all that strife and turmoil the British had kept their watch, moving ships and men in and out of Hong Kong and Weihaiwei.

  King Alfred was the largest British ship presently in Asian waters, classified as an armored cruiser, the ship was the size of most older battleships in the Japanese fleet. The IJN flagship Mikasa, weighed in at 15,380 tons fully loaded, and was only 432 feet long, while King Alfred was nearly as heavy at 14,150 tons, and actually a hundred feet longer. As a cruiser she did not match the 12 inch guns on the Japanese battleships. Her main armament was sixteen 6 inch guns, with two larger 9.2 inch guns mounted in bigger turrets fore and aft. She was one of four Drake class armored cruisers, and at 23 knots she was faster than any other ship of her size in the region. She also had new fire control fitted and electric hoists for all her 6 inch guns to speed loading and rate of fire.

  Admiral Meux looked over the file, again reading aloud as was his habit: “Passed navigation and pilotage. Passed gunnery 8 September ‘05; passed torpedo 13 October ‘05. Well the gentleman certainly seems properly trained.”

  He flipped to the reports section, where young aspiring officers would be rated by their commanding officers on a regular basis. “Captain Bradford has him with good professional knowledge, zealous and diligent, and then look here, a year later Captain Browning reports him as painstaking and steady, but stupid. Vice Admiral Douglas wasn’t impressed with the man either—says his manner was bad with the men.”

  “I believe that was back in ’03, sir. In recent years you’ll see marked improvement.”

  “Watchkeeping Certificate received May ’06… Well he won’t do as a navigator. The man failed the eyesight test last year.”

  “I’ll be keeping Mister Graves at navigation, sir.”

  “See that you do. I think I do recall this young man now that we’re discussing him. A bit headstrong in his early years. Served on Exmouth when she was the fleet flagship and got the bit between his teeth. I seem to remember an incident when the man was hoisting boats when his comm
ander came up behind him and began issuing orders. The cheeky young lad simply removed his gloves, unbuckled his sword, and handed both to the commander before retiring below decks!”

  Captain Baker laughed at that. “Yes, sir, that’s my man. He was just a tad prickly back in ‘05, but we’ve smoothed out the rough edges since then.”

  “Painstaking… Steadily improving…Keen and zealous…reliable and strongly recommended for executive appointment. Why, that last bit was your remark, Captain Baker.”

  “It was, sir. The young man is rather new to the China Station. He just arrived here last May shortly after the turnover of command. I’ve had my eye on him below decks and think he may rotate up to the bridge crew well enough.”

  “That isn’t much time below decks for an officer this new, but if you say you’ve had your eye on the man I will certainly defer to your judgment.” The admiral took notice of the young officer’s name for the first time now, flipping the attached reports down to read it on page one.

  “ John….A good Christian name, I suppose.”

  “Yes sir. He goes by the nickname Jack with the men, and they seem to have taken a liking to him.”

  “Very good, Captain. You may move your Lieutenant to the bridge. Who knows, the experience may do him some good. See how he does when we take the squadron out for maneuvers.”

  “I have every confidence in the man Admiral. In fact, I think he may work out quite well. He seems very ambitious and determined.”

  “Yes, well every young Lieutenant like this one thinks they’ll end up First Sea Lord or Admiral of the Fleet one day, don’t they?”

  “This young Lieutenant may very well surprise you, sir.”

  Captain Baker was a bit of a profit, it seemed. For the man they were discussing that morning was Lieutenant John Cronyn “Jack” Tovey, a determined young man indeed, and fated to live up to his every aspiration.