“I've thought of several improvements to the Albatros that would add to our capabilities – but we would have to return to the Rock to get them done,” Bill said.
“Like what?”
“Well, a motor-generator set, for one. Wind generation just doesn't do it in the tropics – most of the time, we have to ration electric light use just to be sure of enough juice left in the battery bank to use the radio. We can't use the electric fans in the tween-decks and sickbay in the kind of still, hot weather when we need them most, for comfort and hygiene. And everything else on the schooner has to be accomplished by “Norwegian steam”, in spite of the fact that we have electric motors rigged to do things like heave up the anchor, raise sail, and – most importantly – power the pumps. I don't mind using muscle power in place of electricity when we're not in action. It helps keeps the hands fit, and used to working as a team.
“But in battle, every man heaving on a halyard or manning a manual fire or bilge pump is a man not available to fight the ship.”
“Believe me, I've thought of that too, Bill – it's at the top of my wish list. But that's a major yard job that can't be done nearer than French Port.”
“A trip back to the Rock would do us good in more than one way, Skipper. For one thing, the new recruits available to us here in the Indian Ocean are willing, but they're no marins. Most of 'em are farmers, with no more experience of the sea than going fishing of a Sunday. We could recruit proper seamen back home. And, after three victorious battles at sea, and thousands of miles of cruising, the crew deserves a bit of home leave, don't you think?”
“Two and a half victorious battles, Bill – don't forget the one that got away. But I take your point. And we'll get those one or two additional warships we desperately need only if we're there to choose, refit, and see them properly manned. Now that we've located and freed the pirates' captives – or most of 'em, probably – there's nothing to prevent us from returning to the Rock.
“Except that when we do, we'll leave the Indian Ocean trades unprotected from the pirates.”
“Before we left, the KBS was recommending that all merchant vessels bound for IO ports arm themselves.”
“With what – a Lyle gun and a couple of seal rifles? A dhow with a single one of their new bronze cannon trumps that.”
Ennis had no answer for that, since it was patently true. The Lyle gun was a device for passing a tow line to a vessel in distress. Since it was, in effect, a little cannon, and every seagoing vessel was required to have one, attempts had been made to turn it into a defensive weapon against pirate attack, without any very satisfactory results.
They paced in silence for a while. “There's no help for it”, Sam finally said with a sigh. “We'll take on stores and water at St. Pierre, and when we sail from there, it'll be for Kerguelen. I'm hopeful that we can get the Reunionnais to take the liberated Kerg captives off our hands, maybe return them to Mauritius by inter-island ketch. But Bill – no need to let the hands know we're homeward-bound until we sail from Port Louis.”
Ennis said, “What about our pirate prisoners we left in the custody of the Hell-ville cops? And Midshipman Dallas?”
Sam swore. “God, I almost forgot about them! We can't go home without the prisoners – not after the blood it cost us to take them. And Foch may be able to get information out of them that Dallas hasn't.”
“Boat ahoy,” came the cry from the bow lookout. “Motor sloop setting out from the land.”
Sam and Bill both glanced at the sun. It was low on the western horizon, and it was obvious that once the motor sloop had made its way out to the Albatros and discharged her passengers, there would be no time for her to return and negotiate the creek mouth – unmarked and winding among treacherous shoals – in daylight.
“Looks like Kendall and his boys will have to spend another night ashore”, Ennis said.
“No help for it.”
They could now see through their telescopes that the motor sloop was towing one of the whaleboats, and that both craft were crammed to the gunwales with passengers. The sloop appeared to be proceeding at only half-ahead, presumably for the safety of the whaleboat, but they could see a couple of people in the towed boat bailing constantly anyway.
“The folks in the whaleboat are having a wet ride, I'm afraid”, said Bill.
“Yes – if this chop were any higher, she'd swamp. Good thing Schofield isn't trying to tow both boats.”
“Dave's too good a seaman to try that.”
The sun, blood-red, was sinking behind the Ankaratra Massif when the motor sloop finally came alongside. The pilot ladder was rigged, and Schofield brought the whaleboat to its foot. The ragged captives, drenched and miserable, struggled up the ladder with the assistance of seamen on deck and in the boat. Schofield then allowed the sloop to drift aft until it was at the foot of the ladder, and the process was repeated. The freed prisoners, like the first batch, were all women or children. Seamen and SBAs led them below to number one tween deck, where dry clothes and a hot meal awaited them.
Once the deck was clear, the Boatswain shouted orders, and the hands began rigging the gear to recover the motor sloop and the whaleboat. Sam and Bill watched and admired as Mr. Terreblanche, the Boatswain, both watches on deck and the spare steelyards roused out and rigged, oversaw the simultaneous recovery of both boats, the motor sloop swayed up and stowed in its cradle between fore and main masts, the whaleboat between main and mizzen, each craft nestling into its place at nearly the same instant.
“Very neatly done, Mister T!” called Sam, and both Boatswain and XO beamed with modest pride – Ennis because crew training was his responsibility.
“I'm afraid Boats was showing off a bit just now,” Bill said in a low voice. “Still, a very seamanlike job, even with all our lompkinders.”
Having seen his little command securely on board, Lieutenant Schofield came aft to report to the captain.
“What's the situation on the beach, Dave?” asked Sam.
“Kendall's boys had a couple of fights with pirates. Our lads got the better of it, but had two men killed and three wounded; fortunately, not too seriously. All three of the wounded men volunteered to stay ashore until all the captives were transferred to the ship. After talking it over with PO Martin, Al – that is, Lieutenant Kendall – and I decided to do that. Many of the captives are in worse shape than our wounded.”
“Who was killed?” asked Sam and Bill, almost in unison.
“Able Seaman Dunn and an ordinary named Meeks – Paul Meeks. He had just turned twenty-one, his mates said.”
All three were silent for a moment, then Bill asked, “What about Meeks and Dunn – their remains, I mean?”
“They gave them a funeral, best they could manage under the circumstances, and buried them in the clearing. The grave is marked, in case we decide to retrieve their bodies later for burial at sea.”
“Well, no rush about that,” Sam replied, sadly. “We'll see what their families want.”
“Is this all of the captives?” Bill asked.
“All but a half-dozen men and near-grown boys – they stayed behind with the landing party, because there was no room for them in the boats. Looks like they'll have to spend the night ashore”.
“We'll lift 'em all in the morning.”
And, indeed, by starting in pre-dawn darkness the next day, they had recovered the landing party, the last of the captives, and a boatload of fresh water, and were under way for Reunion before “up spirits” was piped.
That morning, while the Albatros waited for the boats to return, Sam's pleasure in liberating the captives was dampened somewhat by a visit from Doctor Girard.
When he saw her walking aft, he knew she was coming to see him on a matter of importance – she rarely left sick bay, otherwise.
“Captain, you should know that the female prisoners, some of them, were shockingly abused by the pirates. Several of the women have asked for private gynecological exams. They reported being raped.
It seems that the pigs, apparently the higher ranking ones, would pick out the youngest and prettiest women to share their huts with them overnight, while they were encamped on the creek bank.
“One young girl proved to be pregnant. She was thirteen – thirteen, Captain! – and she begged me to terminate.”
“Did you? End her pregnancy, I mean?”
“Of course – immediately. Quite aside from the mental and emotional effects of being forced to carry her rapist's baby to term, she's far too young to bear a child – she's a child, still, herself, somewhat immature physically, even for her age. Her health would have been endangered. As it is, she may now be unable to conceive again. Her attacker was far from gentle.”
Sam felt sick with rage and grief. This didn't come as a surprise – it had been his unspoken fear all along, and he knew that all but the most naïve of his crew must have feared this outcome, as well. But having it confirmed was like a blow to the gut.
“The poor, poor child,” he murmured. “How can she ever get over this?”
“Physically, she should be all right, aside from possible infertility. As for her emotional health ...we can only rely on the resilience of youth. Luckily, her mother is among the captives and can comfort her.”
“Let's not talk about this, Doctor – keep this news from getting out to the crew. They'll be mad with rage. And besides, they may unwittingly torment the poor girl with their expressions of anger and sympathy.”
“I need no instruction in my duties, Captain,” Girard retorted angrily. “Patient-doctor confidentiality is sacred to a physician.” And with this she stalked off. And Sam realized that, once again, he had managed to get athwart the prickly doctor's hawse.
That afternoon, in spite of his continued smoldering anger at the news the doctor had brought him, Sam continued with his intent to host a little dinner to celebrate the accomplishment of their mission. There were just four guests – the XO, Lieutenants Kendall and Schofield, and Midshipman Peltier. He kept the conversation light during the meal, which concluded with toasts to Kendall, Schofield, Peltier, the landing force, and the crew of the motor sloop in compliment of, as Sam put it, “the very seamanlike way you carried out your missions”. Then he got down to the real business of the afternoon: a full briefing by Kendall on the actions ashore.
Kendall gave a detailed account of events ashore, from landing to the discovery of the captives.
“The pirates we encountered on the trail were clearly the advance party of the pirates left ashore, with their prisoners, moving back toward the creek to rendezvous with the two pirate schooners. The captives heard the gunfire of our first skirmish with the pirates, but had no idea what that meant. They told us that the pirates left just two men – boys, really – to guard them, when they moved off to attack us in the clearing with their full force. There were just enough men and older boys among the captives to make this guard detail way too small – as the guards themselves soon realized. One of the Kerg men took charge and started the captives milling around to confuse and misdirect the guards, while the men covertly gathered up rocks and sticks to use as weapons. They knew that a concerted rush on the two guards was bound to succeed, even if at the cost of several casualties among the prisoners. The guards knew this, too, and got more and more nervous, according to the informal leader of the captives, a tough old bird named Childs. Finally the nerve of the guards broke, and they fired off their guns in a panic, fortunately without hitting anyone, and ran off into the bush, leaving the prisoners to fend for themselves.
“The prisoners then debated at length about what to do next. They didn't know why the pirates had left them in the bush with only two guards, and were afraid they would return at any moment. The optimists among them thought the gunfire they heard meant that rescue was at hand. The pessimists pointed out that the pirates had the habit of firing into the air to celebrate something, or just for the hell of it, so the gunfire didn't necessarily mean anything. Childs then arbitrarily took charge of the group – according to one report, he said 'Kak, somebody's gotta drive!' – and decreed that they would camp overnight where they were, then move off in the morning toward the coast, but diagonally away from the direction the pirates took.
“That was the situation when we encountered them. We shared our food and water with them – it didn't go far, of course – and moved back to the old pirate camp by easy stages. Some of them were in pretty bad shape, as you saw; malnourished, and suffering from dysentery. I think the Albatros returned for us just in time. The weakest among them would have begun to die.”
The four men were silent for a moment. Then Sam asked, “Lessons learned, Al?”
“Well, no disrespect intended, Skipper, but the big one, I think, is: 'don't leave the landing party ashore unsupported'”.
“Point taken. And I wouldn't have done it except out of dire operational necessity.”
“Of course, I understand that it was unavoidable in this case, Captain.
“The second point is one we've already discussed. This landing just underlined it: the landing force has to be in much better physical condition – has to be toughened up considerably – for missions ashore in the tropics. We're already addressing that, with the fitness program Landry devised in cooperation with the Doctor. And you've already given us permission to do conditioning marches ashore whenever we're in port long enough.
“My third point we've already talked about, too – shoes and clothing. Their footwear is in shreds now. We need sturdier boots for them. That's easy enough to address. Any port can furnish shoemakers – we just need the time in harbor they would need to measure the men's feet and make the boots. Also, ordinary shipboard work clothes are inadequate. We need uniforms of a heavier, more durable fabric, and they need to be dyed some dull shade of green or brown so we don't stand out so against the background. Again, just a question of time and budgeting.”
“Budgeting will not be an issue. Make a list of your requirements and give it to Mister Weeks. I'll instruct him to find the funds or beg for credit – the settlers have been very helpful so far. No reason why we can't presume upon their kindness a bit more.
“How did the new rifles do in combat? Were they satisfactory?”
“Very satisfactory, Skipper. I was a little concerned that they would prove to be of too small a caliber, but they were quite effective at the relatively short engagement ranges we faced. And they were the one clear advantage we had over the pirates. Their muzzle-loaders gave them a much lower rate of fire than we could generate.”
“We can't count on that advantage to last, judging by how good the pirates have been so far in matching our advantages in sail rig and heavy guns – not to mention the use of radio. I'm sure that breech-loading rifles are being turned out right now in some pirate gunsmith's shop.
“So we've got to up the ante. As soon as Du Plessis is well enough to talk shop, I'm going to ask him about repeating rifles.”
Kendall looked blank. “Repeating rifles, Skipper?”
“Yes – the ancients had them. Weapons that could be loaded with multiple rounds at once, so the gunner didn't have to reload after each shot. The various actions used historically seem straightforward enough, from what I've read, although complex mechanically. We've just never had a requirement for such firearms before.”
“That would be geweldige! We could double or triple our rate of fire!”
“Don't get too excited. This ain't something we can accomplish in a hurry.”
“I know, Skipper – but repeating rifles! I can't wait.”
“Anything else, Al?”
“The food and water issue, Captain. We need food that will keep in our knapsacks for several days. I hope Cookie's experiments with what you call 'iron rations' prove successful.
“As for water, carrying enough with us to last several days puts us square up against a natural law: fresh water weighs one kilo per liter. Our lads can't hump more than about 25 kilos each without being too weighed down to be mobile
. So every liter of fresh water a man carries is a kilo less of food, or ammo, or equipment. According to PO Martin, an active man in a tropical climate needs an absolute minimum of a liter and a half of water a day to avoid disabling dehydration, and two liters is preferable. For a three-day mission, splitting the difference, that's five liters of water – five kilos of weight.
“But almost everywhere in the IO we're likely to operate, we'll find fresh water – we just have to make it safe for us to drink. On this mission, PO Martin used almost his entire supply of antiseptics to make the creek water wholesome, and that got us just barely enough to get by. We thought about taking along rum to disinfect local water, but that presents its own problems. You know seamen – they would drink it all up at once if we issued it out.”
“I talked to the doctor about that – she said enough rum to render water safe to drink would be enough to make a man tipsy. We can't have that. She recommended boiling water – she said that is much the most reliable way to purify it. And if we can replenish our supply of bactericides in Hell-ville, maybe we can issue each man a small supply to use in emergencies, when you can't take the time to build a fire.
“And anyway, the Albatros won't leave you ashore unsupported during future missions. We were lucky this last time, but I'm not going to gamble like that with your men's lives again. So we'll be just offshore to resupply and reinforce the landing party, come hell or high water. And stage supply dumps ashore for deep-penetration missions, if necessary.”
“Thanks, Skipper.”
Schofield, who had been silent for most of these discussion, now spoke up. “Where to, next, Skipper?”
“St. Pierre, first. We have to take on stores and water there – and if we don't get favorable winds, we'll all be hungry and thirsty by the time we arrive.
“The next port of call is uncertain. If the Reunionnais want to assume the care of our libérées, and they want to stay there, the next stop is Nosy Be. But if they want to go home to Mauritius, we'll have to take them there first.
The Cruise of the Albatros: Book Two of the Westerly Gales Saga Page 14
