The Captain turned as he was joined at the observation screen by a heavily built man whose uniform showed the insignia of an Admiral.
"Good evening, sir." He saluted. "She's growing rapidly now. All her hull plating is complete and the entire ship is now under atmosphere."
Returning the salute the Admiral smiled. "Beautiful isn't she? Still a lot of work to do though, but at least it will go faster now she is able to contain her own atmosphere." He nodded. "Completion is fixed for March twenty-two-oh-four. She will be in commission and ready for deployment by August – provided the WeapTech people don't miss any deadlines."
"I gather there are some problems with WeapTech since it was privatised," said the Captain carefully.
"That is putting it very mildly. Projects that were doing well and nearing successful completion have suddenly been declared unworkable, components have become hard to get and of those we do get around thirty percent fail acceptance. If I were a suspicious man I would say the new owners are playing a deep game of their own and trying to undermine us." The Admiral frowned and then smiled briefly. "That is why we have kept a few things 'in house' and under our own peoples' control. Like this ship's primary weapons system. As far as the Ministry is aware it is a deep space scanning device for detecting black holes."
"I wondered about that. As it is the weapons fit seems impressive."
"It is. In reality you will be in command of a ship equipped with a weapon that can destroy very large asteroids and possibly even small planets. But that is not for the public knowledge." He stared at the new ship. "There is a war coming, James, an ugly one because the enemy is deeply embedded in our own society. The Fleet has enemies inside the bureaucracy, people working for a group we know only as "The Consortium". We don't know who's behind it, but we have an inkling of what they are after and how they plan to get it. It is going to be a bad time for everyone, but with ships like yours and loyal crews we hope to be able to meet the threat when it comes."
"Thank you for the confidence, sir," replied the Captain. "I know I have a pretty good team coming together on her. Certainly when Richard Grenville takes up his post as Executive Commander I will have one of the most efficient Execs a Captain could want. I already have the best Communications and IT Commander and same for my Engineering and Weapons heads. Once we can ship the strike and interceptor squadrons I just hope I get the man I have asked for. Nick Gray is the best there is and just the man I need to shake a new ship like this down and get its squadrons functioning well."
"You'll have him." The Admiral smiled broadly. "He's driving Drafty mad over it. They'll give it to him just to shut him up and get him off their backs."
Captain Heron laughed. "I can imagine. As it is Mary Allison is riding the Engineering staff so hard I think she'll drive them to nervous breakdowns. She won't accept anything less than perfection as she sees it and has rejected a complete reactor set. Made them take it out and replace it. They kicked up a fuss, but she was right and I backed her all the way."
"I heard about it." The Admiral's expression was stern. "I had the bureaucrats kicking up a right fuss and threatening to complain to the Minister. I told them to go ahead and I would then provide the Minister with the evidence of sub-standard equipment and defects they were accepting from their favoured suppliers at below agreed contract price."
"Bet that got them worried."
"Not immediately – but once I let it be known that I knew where the difference was going and the Minister would as soon as anything happened to me or even appeared about to happen. That changed the tune."
"Dirty bastards. Still, Fritz Dieffenbach is now onboard and installing and training the AI system." The Captain nodded thoughtfully. "Still can't quite get my head around the ship having a mind of its own. Fritz seems delighted with it and happily reports it is learning far more quickly than he anticipated. He takes a paternal pleasure in each new node and each new 'achievement' as it is built."
"I know what you mean. He's probably the only person around who does understand the thing. This ship will have the most advanced system going and will be almost self aware as I understand it." The Admiral shrugged. "A far cry from when we first ventured beyond our own system." He grimaced. "Well I'd better get back to my desk. Work to do and ships to repair. Get your Weapons Commander to call on me – my Writer will make space for her. I have some information on the Primary she's overseeing built she will need but I can't put it on the links or through the usual channels."
"I'll get her onto it straight away." Captain Heron accepted the handshake and then saluted as the Admiral turned to leave. He would have to interrupt Valerie and smiled at her probable reaction. Valerie Petrocova didn't trust civilian constructors and fitters and firmly believed that if she or her team weren't watching every component something would be badly or incorrectly fitted. She was probably right he thought, especially at the moment and in the light of what was happening in the privatised suppliers of components to the Construction Yards.
He keyed his comlink as he strode toward the office allocated to him. "Valerie, could you come to my office immediately please. Couple of things I need to discuss."
-
Chapter 4 — 1802: Convoy
"Gentlemen!" Captain Robert Blackwood rapped sharply on his table. "Your attention if you please!"
The assembled group, the civilian dress of the Merchant service Masters in distinct contrast to the naval uniforms of Spartan and her consorts' officers, stilled their conversations and settled back in their seats.
"My clerk will shortly be passing to each of you copies of your sailing orders for this voyage. We will be sailing as a convoy, even though it is now all peace and tranquillity with our French neighbours." He paused as a murmur of discontent ran around the merchant Masters, and then continued, "I am aware some of you do not see any need for this. But I can assure you their Lordships have excellent intelligence there are a number of 'privateers' still operating from various ports along the West African coast and even on the East African seaboard. Furthermore some of you are carrying a large number of convicts to our destination and both the government and the Admiralty feel you should be sailed in company with a large ship as escort to ensure any attempt at mutiny is dealt with quickly and effectively." He surveyed the group, and asked, "Have you any observations you wish to make at this stage?"
A burly Master spoke up. "Aye, Captain, we all know the reasons they give for this convoying in London. But, what with the French suing for peace, many of us feel we can make a faster passage unescorted and unencumbered by, begging your pardon, your sluggish ships." There was a rumble of agreement to this.
"Sadly, sir." Captain Blackwood glared at the man. "It is not the French alone we must have regard to. There are pirates and others to contend with on our voyage south and the news of the projected peace may not reach all outposts as swiftly as we may prefer. I am aware many of you consider your ships to be faster and handier than mine, but we will have two frigates in company and I assure you they will afford protection and the ability to ensure this convoy remains intact." The threat was thinly veiled, but not missed by those to whom it was addressed. "Now gentlemen, your orders," he added as the Clerk began to distribute a number of sealed packets.
***
"Make the signal if you please, Mister Heron. Lively now, don't give these Transports and the John Company layabouts an excuse to be tardy." The First Lieutenant seemed to have eyes everywhere as his attention focussed on the men swarming aloft to make sail. On the fo'c's'le the Second Lieutenant and his men manned the halliards and the braces, while below, the Third Lieutenant urged the men at the capstan to greater efforts as the anchor was drawn free of the mud and sand. An apparently incomprehensible clamour arose as the cries of command and response, the occasional yelp as a man felt the bite of a Boatswain's Mate's starter and the sudden banging and rustling as the great fore topsail and its companion on the main mast were loosed and sheeted home as the ship slowly gathered way.
>
Harry's party hauled the coloured flags aloft, the signal to all the ships of the convoy to assemble between the great seventy-four and the pair of frigates already cramming on more sail to take their stations ahead and to windward of the reluctant convoy. The signal was acknowledged by the frigates and two brigs added to the convoy for the voyage to Gibraltar swiftly and efficiently, by the Indiamen condescendingly and by the three prison ships tardily. The last, Maid of Selsey, had to be prompted by hauling aloft a second signal with her name spelled out for all to read and a demand she acknowledge the signal.
"All ships acknowledged, sir," Harry called to the First Lieutenant.
"Very good, Mister Heron," Captain Blackwood replied, "Now make another, "Course South by West' Sou' West keep close company."
Harry and his team obeyed, quickly bending on the required flags and sending these soaring aloft on the halyard so they streamed away from the yardarm clearly visible to all the ships. Again the acknowledgements were slow and most of the scattering flock adjusted their courses to suit. Again the Maid of Selsey seemingly ignored the signal and Captain Blackwood snapped, "Signal her to make more sail and to conform."
"Aye, aye, sir." Harry's team obeyed quickly, but the signal remained unacknowledged and the ship in question continued under easy canvas, slowly being overhauled by the Spartan.
Captain Blackwood said angrily, "That fellow is determined to annoy me. Very well, Mister Rae, clear away the bow chaser and get his attention please."
Harry jumped as he watched the Maid of Selsey through the big signal telescope when the flat bang of the forward long nine sounded. The ball sent up a spout of water close astern of the errant ship and he watched as a number of figures suddenly appeared at the rail gesticulating. He focused the glass on the face of the man he recognised as the Master, seeing the angry scowl and the exchange of words with someone out of sight. Men began to straggle aloft and the acknowledgement jerked up the rigging.
"Maid of Selsey acknowledges, sir," he said.
"And not before time." Captain Blackwood had his own glass trained on the recalcitrant prison ship. "I shall not brook insolence from her Master. He may be a part owner of that ship, but he is under orders to sail in this convoy whether he likes it or no."
"I think he will do all in his power to be laggardly," remarked the First Lieutenant. "I believe his reputation for cruelty to those entrusted to his care is well known, as is his parsimonious attitude to any expense for repairs to his ship."
"So I am informed." The Captain turned his attention to his own ship, saying, "We will exercise the hands at gun drill once we clear the channel, it is fortunate we were able to fill so many vacancies with men from other ships and only a small number of landsmen. Still we are short handed. We must see what can be done to fill those before we leave home waters Thomas."
"As you say, sir," replied the First, "Though it will not be easy to put a Press ashore if we must keep close to these sheep I'm thinking."
-
In the event it proved impossible for the ship to detach herself from the convoy and take the time needed to carry out a sweep for more hands along the Devon and Cornish coast. The wind freshened as they approached Ushant and backed southerly, forcing a long beat to the North West.
"If this wind holds, sir, we shall make landfall among the Scillies soon."
"To be avoided I think." Captain Blackwood studied the chart. "We will make a tack and stand to the South East. Signal the convoy to alter course. If necessary close with each ship and ensure compliance." He thought for a moment. "It will be dawn in another hour; we will make the alteration then."
***
Harry groaned as the pipes twittered along the decks and the cry of "All hands; All hands to shorten sail," rang through the ship. He rolled from his hammock and groped for his coat; it would be cold on deck at this hour and he had turned in barely two hours earlier. Rubbing sleep from his eyes and dragging on his coat he ran to the companionway and joined the throng now running to their stations for the task of shortening the great press of canvas overhead.
"Mister Heron," the Third Lieutenant called, "To me, sir."
"Sir?" Harry responded as he joined his Divisional Officer at the foot of the foremast.
"Get aloft with the topmen and join the lookout. Report the disposition of the convoy. We are standing toward the Scilly Isles and the very reef upon which Sir Cloudsley Shovell's fleet was destroyed. It will be sunrise in a half hour and the Captain means to tack then – sooner if you sight the isles or the reef."
"Aye, aye, Sir." Harry turned and made his way to the shrouds, swung onto the nettings and then outboard to join the men clambering up the great sweep of the ratlines to the foretop. He followed them round the futtocks and then mounted the next set climbing to the topgallant crosstrees.
A little breathless he joined the lookout and said, "I'm to report the disposition of the convoy, where away are they Kennard?"
"On our Starboard bow and beam, sor." The man had a heavy Devonian accent. His teeth flashed in the gloom as he added, "Some o' they be poor sailers, sor, they'm scatterin' an' laggin'."
"I see them." Harry peered into the darkness and could make out the stern lights of several and the side lights of another three evidently having trouble holding the same point to windward as the Spartan. He did a quick count and nodded as he confirmed the number present. "At least we've lost none yet." He cupped his hand to his mouth and sang out, "Convoy in sight on the lee bow, sir."
"Remain there, Mister Heron." Mister Beasley's voice carried aloft over the noise of thundering canvas as the topsails and topgallants where reefed, "And report any change in their disposition."
Harry acknowledged the order and settled himself securely on the narrow platform. He was feeling the chill even through his coat, waistcoat shirt and undershirt, yet he was aware the lookout, one of the older seamen, was clad only in shirt and breeches. "Dawn soon, Kennard. And hopefully a little warmth with the sun."
The man chuckled, "Aye, sir. But darker 'afore t' sun comes up."
"And colder," Harry said absently, his eyes on the furthest ship. "I think that must be the Virago. Where are Swift, Pelican and the Kestrel?"
"That be the Indiaman Minerva, sor. Virago be to loo'ard o' 'er. T' brigs be t' loo'ard o' all t' rest an' Swift be there." The seaman indicated a light in the centre of the scattered lights. " 'er light rides lower 'coz 'er poop be lower than t' 'ell ship ahead o' 'er sor."
Harry nodded, noting the positions. Already the faintest change was occurring in the sky to the east, a greenish line seemed to be spreading along the horizon and the darkness above it seemed paler. He glanced up and noted with satisfaction the cloud wrack was apparently breaking up, bright stars blazed in the gaps appearing to the west and south while the east appeared to be clear already. He scanned the scattered ships again. One seemed to have changed position and he asked the lookout, "One of our charges seems to have tacked. Can you see which?"
"Aye, sir." The lookout braced himself and peered into the gloom, "It be the Duchess. Indiaman, 'er Master be cautious I reckons. She be standing across t' others now."
"I thought so," Harry cupped his hands to his mouth again and sang out, "Deck there, Duchess has tacked. She's standing across the convoy."
"Very good," the Fourth Lieutenant's voice sounded faintly from below. Minutes later the pipes were once more twittering and the rigging swarmed with men racing to obey the shouted orders. The lightening skies allowed Harry to see sharper outlines and to note two more ships had tacked. He reported this even as a string of flags soared aloft to be followed seconds later by the bang of a gun. This was followed several minutes later by the eerie light of a port fire, its bright, but menacing, light casting the sails into coloured relief.
"T' brigs 'ave seen it, sor." Kennard reported. "An' Virago. Swift 'as tacked an' is closing Duchess, sor."
The sun turned the eastern horizon gold as it began to rise, bathing the sea in its light and il
luminating the undersides of the scattered clouds. As it crept higher it caught the upper masts and yards of the ships at last responding to the Spartan's signal. The brigs on the far side of the convoy acting like sheep dogs, snapping at the heels of the sluggards until finally, with the sun now fully above the horizon, all were once more standing on the same course.
A new lookout clambered into the crosstrees and grinned. "Mornin', sir, Tom. Mister Beasley's compliments, sir, 'e says you can go to breakfast now."
"Thank you." Harry grinned. "Something warm will be welcome, sleep would be better, but I can forget that now. Are you coming, Kennard? Thank you for your assistance." He swung himself onto the ratlines and began the descent.
"I'll see 'e below, sor." The seaman Kennard replied as he swung himself onto the long backstay and began to slide hand over hand to the deck.
Harry raced down the rigging and reached his position at Mister Beasley's side just as the helm went over and the ship began to swing ponderously through the eye of the wind, the sails slating and banging as she did so. Around him men swirled in the chaotic seeming dance as they hauled on the braces and sheets to trim the yards and sails once more to the best setting to take the wind. The tack now placed Spartan to windward and astern of her brood of reluctant charges, but at least, Harry noted as they settled on the new course and he supervised the men stowing the many lines neatly, all of their rag-tag 'fleet' were once more in a group with the brigs harrying the laggards into closing up on the others.
Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure Page 3
