Into Uncharted Seas (Westerly Gales)

by E. C. Williams

  Brief concluded, Sam said, “By the way, how did your recruiting effort go? Get many good hands?”

  “More than I can easily feed and berth, Commodore,” Murphy replied proudly. “The Reunnionais were tremendously helpful – freely released any man from Defense Force duty who wanted to join. We signed on more than thirty men, all seamen or fishermen and all young and fit. In fact, if you can take some of 'em, I'd be most grateful – we're packed to the gunwales, and my petty officers are overtasked with training 'em all.”

  “Geweldige! We'll take fifteen of them. I need more hands to work the 37 mil – shifting her from side to side takes a lot of 'Norwegian steam'”

  Sam and Murphy returned topside to consult with Al Kendall, whose feelings about the additional seamen were decidedly mixed: while he could use the extra hands, finding space for all of them to swing their hammocks would be difficult. Nevertheless, he merely said “Aye aye, sir”, and went off to find the Boatswain and delegate this task.

  Albatros launched the motor sloop, which towed Roland's boat back and forth between the two schooners, transferring the fifteen seamen and their dunnage to their new vessel.

  Once this was accomplished, Commander Murphy said his goodbyes and returned to his own vessel. Both got underway heading in a generally southwesterly direction, diverging somewhat as they separated for their respective patrol sectors. Albatros had more than 500 sea-miles to sail to the point just off the ruins of the ancient Malagasy town of Faradofay, on the big island's southeastern coast, which represented the eastern end of her patrol sector. Depending on the wind ,which had now backed into the more usual southeasterly quarter, this would be at least two days' run.

  At midday, on the first day after the rendezvous with Roland, Sam received a radio message from the “Navy Department” – a single reserve commander in French Port – that filled him with joy. A second 37 mm gun, along with four more one-inch rifles, small arms, and a supply of ammunition for all these weapons, were loaded on the schooner Dame des îles, already underway from French Port, bound for Hell-ville. A source of puzzlement rather than joy was a reference to unspecified “machinery” and “plans and specifications”, but this was pushed right out of his mind by the good news of the additional armaments. This cargo must have been underway even before he had last reiterated his request for them. The combined efforts of Mother Moreau, Captain Lee, and Commander Foch had been clearly successful, and Sam felt deep gratitude.

  Along with elation at his good luck in being in just the right position to escort the Dame all the way to Nosy Be, he felt a shuddering horror at the “what-ifs”: what if the Scorpion had not spotted the pirate dhows, or alternatively had not disobeyed her orders and broken radio silence? And what if therefore he had failed to get underway and rendezvous with Roland? The consequences of a pirate capture of these weapons he could hardly bear considering: it might have changed the entire course of the war.

  As it was, he could arrange a rendezvous with the Dame in the high thirties, well south of the usual cruising grounds of the pirates, and, with Roland, see her safely through the danger zone. He immediately got off a radio message specifying the rendezvous latitude and longitude, using the Navy code, which, as Commander Foch RKNVR had informed him along with the good news, the Dame now held.

  Sam was glad the Dame held the code, because a plain-language exchange about the rendezvous would be bound to arouse the interest of the pirates. Convoying was an effective method of protecting shipping but one the Navy never used, because it simply didn't have enough warships; for most of its short history it had consisted of just one, the Albatros. The pirates, on intercepting a message en clair establishing the meeting point, would naturally be curious about why this particular merchantman was so important. And they very conveniently had a couple of war-dhows well-positioned to show up at the rendezvous to find out for themselves. But there was no reason to suspect that the Caliphate had as yet broken the Navy code.

  The cipher itself was a straightforward book code. Each word was encoded as a eight-digit number, comprising the number of the page, column, and line at which the word could be found in a French-English dictionary Every ship and station held two different dictionaries – not just different editions of the same one, but volumes by different publishers and thus with different pagination – and on odd days of the month encoded messages in French using one edition, and on even days in English using the other. The code was unbreakable without the knowledge that it was a book code, and knowing, and having access to, the books used.

  But now, Sam reflected, the code was compromised. Even if the books were retrieved from the Dame's master, and he was cautioned not to talk about it, the cat was out of the bag. At least two officers on the schooner – the skipper and whoever did the actual coding and decoding, because it was highly likely that a Kerg merchant master would delegate such a tedious chore to one of his mates – knew the principles of the code. And the secret would inevitably leak outward, through gossip over drinks ashore, to other merchant marine officers, and eventually to the pirates, who regularly took prisoners when they captured Kerg merchantmen.

  And who, Sam was convinced, also had spies ashore on Nosy Be, and perhaps Mauritius and Reunion as well.

  So the code would have to be changed as soon as possible. And not just changed to the extent of using different dictionaries, because the knowledge that it was a book code based on a dictionary was enough of a clue for a dedicated code breaker to work away at until he found the secret.

  As soon as he reached the end of this train of thought, he got off another message, this one to Lieutenant (I) Dallas, now shore-based in Hell-ville, ordering him to immediately start work on a new Navy code, this one to be based on entirely different principles. Sam had no idea what these different principles might be, but he had great faith in the abilities of Lieutenant Dallas, the chief (and only member) of the naval intelligence branch, and one of only two full-time regular officers in the RKN's tiny shore establishment.

  The Roland was still well within visual signaling range, so Sam had her summoned alongside and shouted new orders to Murphy through a megaphone. Murphy acknowledged, and the Roland took station off the Albatros's port quarter. Sam then ordered both vessels to alter course to the southward and make their best speed toward the rendezvous point. He noted with pleasure that Roland, in spite of having a shorter waterline and less sail area, had no trouble keeping up with Albatros. Roland's finer entry and run made her a fast and handy sailor, and it was a pleasure to watch her surge along in Albatros's wake.

  It would take several days for the squadron to sail to the rendezvous. Whether or not the Dame would be there to meet them would depend on her progress through the forties south latitude, always an unpredictable factor. They weren't called the “Roaring Forties” for nothing, and the fickle weather could delay the Dame by days – or urge her onward well ahead of schedule.

  The trip south was uneventful, even pleasant – the two schooners surged along on a broad reach, Roland hanging on the Albatros's port quarter at a distance of precisely one cable as if at the end of a towline. The temperature became cooler as they left the tropics and drew abeam of the southern tip of Madagascar. The new hands blended into the Albatros's crew with wonderful ease. They had all wrested a living from the sea in civilian life, and so never suffered from sea-sickness. They were spared that period of wretchedness that always hindered the initial training of lompkinders . They quickly learned the ropes, and mastered the complex and challenging task of steering a three-masted schooner under full sail on a reach and before the wind. Al Kendall, in conference with the Boatswain, singled out those whose past experience and present performance warranted rating them Able. In exercising with the 37 mm and small arms, Mr. Du Lesseps identified those new ABs who he thought were candidates for the corps of seaman-gunners – a man had to qualify as Able Seaman before he could “strike” for the gunnery rate.

  By the time they reached the rendezvous, Sam and A
l marveled at the progress their crew had made in training and teamwork; the hands worked as if they had sailed together for months rather than days. From his observation of the way Roland was handled during the two-ship tactical drills they ran daily, the same was true of her. Of course, she had had the advantage of a longer period of work-up.

  When they arrived at the agreed rendezvous, there was as yet no sign of the Dame des îles. Sam immediately began to fret. Al pointed out that this was irrational: it was days yet before there could be any reason to worry. Sam longed to query her by radio, to tell her to report her position and speed, but this would have contradicted his own long-standing rule that naval vessels avoid unnecessary radio transmissions. Lieutenant Dallas had pointed out to him quite reasonably long ago that the more traffic the pirates had to analyze the better were their odds of breaking the code. The Kerguelenians had no way of knowing for sure if the pirates were even engaged in such an attempt, but trying to break the Kerg naval code was the intelligent thing to do, and the enemy had so far shown no sign whatever of being stupid. Therefore, the Dame was ordered not to break radio silence unless under attack, or otherwise in distress, or delayed by more than five days.

  So the Albatros and the Roland cruised back and forth along the latitude of the rendezvous, staying five miles apart to maximize their combined visual range of search. Doubled lookouts kept a sharp eye out all round the compass for both the Dame and the pirate dhows suspected to be cruising about. Sam and Al both agreed that the pirates rarely ventured this far south, preferring to hunt along the Malagasy coast, but also that it was prudent to be cautious. Al, who had taken to reading the Bible since his close brush with death during the Battle at Anchor, surprised Sam by stating somberly that the pirates were like the Devil, who “...goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”

  The quotation was apt, but he hoped his XO wasn't going to become too religious. Sam had been shipmates in the merchant marine with a few born-again officers who were always quoting the Bible. While they were perhaps admirable, they weren't much fun to be around.

  Finally, after two days of anxious pacing, Sam was vastly relieved to hear the lookout's cry, “Sail ho! Schooner dead ahead.”

  Sam snatched his telescope off its rack on the after bulkhead of the wheelhouse, and took a look. It was a three-masted schooner matching the description he had of the Dame des isles.

  “Hoist the recognition signal,” he ordered the watch officer, and a two-flag hoist quickly soared aloft. After the usual delay – merchantmen were unused to visual signaling – the newcomer hoisted the correct response. She was indeed the Dame. Sam heaved a great sigh of relief.

  At that moment, Sam came to a decision that he had been mulling the whole of those two anxious days. “Signal” 'Captains come aboard flag'”, he said. A midshipman promptly ran up the two-flag hoist. Roland acknowledged immediately, and the bustle visible on her deck around a boat showed she was obeying the order with alacrity. Dame, on the other hand, dithered for long moments, then ran up a two flag hoist that meant “my ship is on fire”. Sam stared in horror, thinking of the quantities of ammunition the schooner carried, but before he could give orders to break out firefighting gear and close the Dame, she hauled down the signal, replaced one of the flags in the hoist, and ran it up again. It now signified “last signal not understood”. Sam swore in frustration mixed with relief, and ordered Albatros to close the Dame. When they were within hailing distance, Sam shouted his orders to the Dame's master through the megaphone.

  He then watched in disgust as the Dame's crew ran about, getting in one another's way, and finally, after a seeming eternity, launching a boat with great drama and spectacular incompetence. The Dame was clearly no lady – a very poorly run vessel. This realization only confirmed his decision.

  Murphy had been aboard for long minutes, standing on the quarterdeck with Sam and sharing his Commodore's impatience, when the master of the Dame finally climbed slowly up the pilot ladder amidships. Sam was beside himself with this delay; the wind and swell were just on the edge of making small-boat operations hazardous, and if the sea got up much more, as it usually did in mid-afternoon in this latitude, the two captains could be stranded aboard the Albatros until evening.

  The master of the Dame, a Captain Riker, proved to be a nervous, rather timid man of at least sixty. Sam guessed that he was near the end of a long and undistinguished career at sea, and wondered why he had been entrusted with such an important cargo.

  As soon as he had arrived on the quarterdeck and the introductions were made, Sam invited the two captains, plus Al Kendall, to join him in his day cabin for a quick conference. A glance at the sea state sufficed to demonstrate the need for haste.

  Once there, Sam waited impatiently while Ritchie served coffee spiked with a shot of rum – the laws of maritime hospitality must be observed, whatever the situation – and then said, “Gentlemen, I'll get right down to business, if you don't mind. Here's my intention: Dame will proceed through the Mozambique Channel up the west coast of Madagascar to Nosy Be, escorted by the Roland. Albatros will proceed up the east coast, to search for the two pirates we think are in those waters, and engage them if they'll give battle. Questions or comments?”

  The two Naval officers looked at one another in surprise. Captain Riker just looked confused, which was apparently his default state. Then Al, who knew that when Sam asked for questions or comments he really meant it, and was not just saying it for form's sake, spoke up “I understand why you want the Dame to proceed up the east coast, Commodore. Since most Kerg traffic stays to the west of Madagascar, the corsairs hardly ever cruise the Mozambique Channel. But why split our forces? Why not send the Dame up the west coast, and take Roland with you to hunt for the pirates? Or alternatively we could all three proceed in company up either coast...”.

  “We can't put the Dame at any risk a-tall, Al – her cargo's too valuable. I'm sending her up the west coast and providing Roland as an escort for that reason – the same reason we can't all three proceed in company up the east coast, where two big war-dhows are known to be loose.”

  Sam also thought, but was too tactful to say aloud, that having met Captain Riker, and formed an impression of his judgment and seamanship, he wanted Ben Murphy to ride herd on the Dame all the way to Hell-ville.

  “But, Commodore, with respect – this puts the Albatros, our most powerful asset, at risk of having to engage a superior force. The Old Bird has been lucky in dealing with odds of two to one so far, but her luck's bound to run out sooner or later.”

  “Warships exist to go to war, Al. If we've learned anything from ancient naval history, it's that navies kept as a 'fleet in being', regarded as too valuable to risk in action, always turn out to be valueless in the long run.”

  “We've also learned from naval history the value of 'concentration of force', sir.”

  “Principles that conflict in this case, Al. In any event, I've made my decision.”

  “As you say, Commodore,” Kendall said in the resigned tone of an XO who had just lost an argument with his skipper. Sam looked to each of the captains, awaiting any further comments. When none were forthcoming, he continued.

  “Before we part company, Captain Riker, I would like for you to dig out of your hold two of the one-inch rifles, along with an ample supply of ammo, for transfer to the Albatros. I'll want my secondary battery back if I'm to run the risk of engaging two pirate vessels.” Riker looked worried at this. Sam suspected that he was apprehensive about whether his crew was up to the seamanship required for a transfer of cargo at sea. Sam thought to himself that no one could ever accuse Captain Riker of over-confidence.

  “I'll send over my motor sloop to make the transfer, with some of my hands to help with rousing 'em out of your holds. I know how under-manned merchant vessels are nowadays,” he added tactfully.

  “And now, gentlemen, if there are no further questions...? Good. Let's transfer the one-inchers and ammo before the sea gets
up any more.”

  All four went on deck, and Riker and Murphy prepared to debark and return to their respective vessels, while Al Kendall rasped through his brass megaphone at the Boatswain, instructing him to launch the Albatros's motor sloop.

  Sam pulled Murphy aside and said quietly, “Ben, I want you to stick like glue to the Dame all the way to Nosy Be, d'you hear? And you may want to lend Riker a few of your hands to help work her. I have no reason to think your voyage will be anything but uneventful, but having met Captain Riker and seen his crew in action, I don't want to take any chances.”

  “Aye aye, Commodore. You can count on me.”

  Sam knew he could. He had early formed an impression of Murphy as a rock-solid officer who could be relied upon in any situation.

  Almost as soon as the two captains had rejoined their commands, the motor sloop was in the water, her Stirling cycle engine warming to operating temperature. The Gunnery Officer, Mr. Du Lesseps, was in charge of the evolution. As soon as the engineer's mate told him the engine was hot, he steered the sloop across the intervening chop to the Dame, and secured her alongside. A half-dozen of his gunners swarmed over the gunwales, and soon took over the task of rummaging the Dame's hold for the one-inchers and their ammunition. The sloop returned expeditiously with the rifles and as much ammunition as the sloop could carry – and then made two more trips with all the rounds for the one-inchers they could conveniently get at in the Dame's cargo spaces. When it came to ammo, the Gunner's philosophy was “too much is barely enough”.