Before the Captain could train his glass, the lookout called again, "Deck there – a first rate and four smaller ships." A pause, "Looks like Dons, a whole squadron of 'em."
"Mister Bowles," the Captain was brisk, "Take a glass and get aloft. See if you can identify them and their intentions."
"Aye, aye, sir," Tom Bowles snatched a telescope from its rack and swung into the mizzen shrouds. Soon he was perched on the mizzen top and sighting the telescope on the new ships. After a moment he called down, "A three decker and four seventy fours, sir. From her size I think it must be the Santissima Trinidad."
"Thank you Mister Bowles – and her course?"
"On her present head, they appear bound for Cadiz, sir."
By this time the deck seemed to have become filled with curious onlookers, the majority of whom were quick to find things to occupy themselves as soon as any of the lieutenants, now also peering aft, glanced in their direction.
Harry heard the Master speaking to the Third Lieutenant, "A hundred and twenty guns, Mister Beasley. The largest ship in any navy – and a fine prize for any bold enough to attack her."
Tom Bowles landed near Harry and grinned, "A Spanish Fleet no less, Harry. She wears an Admiral's flag at her fore and there are frigates beyond her too. Let us hope they are content to make for their home and leave us be." He hurried away to make a further report to the Captain.
With the growing daylight, the great ship's royals could now be seen from the deck by those with sharp eyes, the snowy canvas golden in the early light. Harry wished he could see the ship herself; it would make a fine picture he was sure for his parents. He watched with envy as Tom Bowles once more scrambled aloft, this time climbing to the crosstrees from where he could see and report the full strength of the Spanish squadron. Instead he remained at his post, tasked with recording the rough notes for the Master's log on the slate beside the great double wheel.
He heard his name called and responded, "Sir?"
"Fetch your drawing materials Mister Heron," Captain Blackwood ordered, "and get aloft. I want you to draw and record each of those ships; the Admiral at Gibraltar will wish to know what he has on his doorstep. Quickly now!"
Harry raced below, grabbed the satchel in which he kept his drawing papers and charcoal, inks and brushes, and raced back on deck. As he swung into the ratlines the Third Lieutenant thrust a telescope at him and said, "Take this, you'll need it to get the detail."
"Aye, aye, sir, thank you," Harry grasped the telescope and slipped the strap over his head, then began the long ascent to join Tom Bowles on the crosstrees. This platform was small, almost too small, but there was sufficient space for him to sit and, with his legs dangling over the sea or the deck as the ship rolled, began to study the huge three decker. Carefully he noted the arrangement of her gunports, the cut of her sails and the gilding and painting of her massive hull. Then he began to sketch, pausing occasionally to use the glass to study the details afresh. Tom Bowles watched in envy as the image in Harry's eye was transferred to the page, tiny details being annotated where they could not be drawn in detail in the main picture. Other ships began to join the flagship on the page as Harry sketched their details as well.
"Damn it, Harry," Tom Bowles remarked, "You almost bring her to life – my efforts to draw or paint as you do always look childish by comparison. How the devil do you do it?"
"A gift I think," said Harry, his concentration on the picture making him sound a little absentminded. He glanced at the older midshipman and smiled, "I have always enjoyed drawing, and it is simple really, perspective and light can be used to create a depth of field to the picture if you need it."
"To you perhaps," Tom laughed. "But for those of us with no talent for it – well, our efforts do not even approach yours."
"To each his own gift I suppose," said Harry. "Would that I could make the music as Ferghal does. Though I can dance as he does I have no talent for the making of music nor the singing of it."
"True, but you have this gift and the ability to follow the parson and his mathematics. That surely is more than enough for any man."
"If you say so, Tom," Harry laughed. He studied the seven ships of the Spanish Squadron again and said, "There, I think I have them all now. Do you think the Captain will want this coloured?"
Tom Bowles laughed, "Of a certainty. In a gilt frame too no doubt if it is to your usual standard." He raised his glass again, then called down, "Deck there, Spaniards are bearing away – setting course for the Cadiz Roads by the look of it."
-
Chapter 8 — 2202AD: Interference or espionage?
Commander Mary Allison was not amused. She and her small team were trying to get one of the ship's primary propulsion units to give the rated output. Over two full days each test they'd run failed to achieve more than seventy percent of the rated power. Now she was poring over the specifications and the component manufacturer's handbooks. Her team were busy inside the unit, tracing and identifying each and every component and checking it against the specification.
"It has to be down to something underperforming," she told her second in command. "According to the specification everything in there should be rated for a hundred and twenty percent of requirement to allow a margin – but at present performance it hasn't anything like the power we need."
"Sir." One of the Technician Ratings emerged from the housing he was inspecting. "I've got sixty-three components in here not in accordance with the spec or the drawings. The Spec says this one," he held up a power unit he'd uncoupled, "should be sixty terawatt, and it is supposed to be a BR-Five-five-Eight-Sixty-six-W, but this is a BR-Five-five-five-eighty-four-F and there's a whole slew more like this."
"What the hell?" Mary Allison exclaimed. "Have you marked these up on the drawing or the spec?"
"Yes, Commander." The TecRate nodded. "Got them all here."
"Anyone else finding this sort of thing?" she demanded of the rest of the team.
"Yes, sir," the chorus came from several points.
"I want them all identified and marked up. Make sure you get them all." To her lieutenant commander she fumed, "Bloody typical, the whole damned thing is fitted with under rated components. The five-eight-four-F is only half the output of the five-six-six-W unit and I bet the rest are just as under requirement. I'm going ashore – someone better have a bloody good explanation for this!"
Lieutenant-Commander Mansfield grinned. "I'll make sure we get them all identified and send it to you on your tablet shall I? Don't kill anyone, Boss, the paperwork with these civil types is a real pain."
"Don't worry, Pete," she growled. "They're not worth it. Send me the full list as soon as possible. I'm going to see the Captain first, then the Yard Admiral if I can get a slot. After that, we'll see."
***
Mister Artur Ribble considered himself a reasonable man, but this small woman was trying his patience. "My dear, Commander," he began, yet again. "Savings had to be made. I consulted several specialists and decided that these units were quite capable of doing what was required. At less than half the cost of those specified and the sheer number involved, we managed to find a considerable reduction in overall cost. Certainly the power output may be a little less than you seem to think is necessary, but I was assured that for most operations the output that can be achieved with the modifications I authorised was quite sufficient."
"I see." Mary's voice was dangerously quiet. "And your qualification in propulsion engineering is?"
"I haven't one," he snapped. "As I have repeatedly told you, I took advice from a number of experts before I consented to the change."
"So you will not be aware these units are required to operate at maximum output during the initiation phase of transit and again for forty percent of the initial breaking phase of drop out?" She glared across the desk. "Perhaps you will also not be aware, as we can get only seventy percent at peak power as modified, this is insufficient to reach transit velocity or decelerate running them at full power for one hund
red percent of the time – a guarantee they will fail since they aren't designed to do that repeatedly."
"I don't see what the problem is." Mister Ribble didn't like the tone of this conversation or the Commander's attitude. He was Chief Executive of the Construction Dock. This was his office and she dared to speak to him as if he was some ignorant clerk. "Your power units or whatever they are function. I'm assured you can achieve transit or drop out with them. These ships are massively expensive and components from WeapTech now have to be paid for at market prices and not at simple cost as before. Savings have to be made and I have made them where they will have least impact on the efficiency of the ship."
"Least impact?" Mary's temper snapped. "Mister, I will tell you now. These units will fail – in fact, the one we are currently testing is already showing signs of failure. Who the hell did you buy this junk from? Sure these things cost less than the specified units – because they damned well don't do what is required! If one of these fails during entry into transit do you know what will happen? Do you know what will happen if they fail during drop out? No I didn't think you did and don't give me that outraged look! You will be hearing from the Admiral and believe me you'd better have a damned side better excuse. I intend to report this as attempted sabotage. You have deviated from specification on equipment that is vital to the safe operation of this ship. Did you really think we wouldn't notice?" She stood up and grabbed her tablet. "This isn't finished, not by a long way."
Damned bureaucrats. Typical, she thought as she stormed across the station heading for the Captain's office, well, she knew just how to stir things up for them.
***
"Good day Minister, please take a seat. I'm delighted you could accept my invitation." Ari Khamenei knew just how to put his visitors at their ease.
"Very good of you to offer to assist my Department, Chairman." The Minister relaxed into a comfortable chair. The room exuded wealth and though slightly too opulent for his tastes conveyed exactly the message its occupant wanted to send. One of wealth, power and continuity.
"But of course we must assist, Minister," Ari Khamenei smiled reassuringly. "My organisation cannot fulfil its obligations unless your Department is able to provide the necessary support to our operations. We have identified an area in which we may act as your agents and provide the resources and services you cannot at present – this permits us to meet our obligations and you to provide the services at minimal cost, so important in these days of tightening budgets."
"Well, we will have to examine the proposals very carefully, Chairman, after all, the Consortium is hardly a government agency. You exist for profit, not charity." The Minister sipped his beverage. "My staff have studied the agreement in full and we think we have the basis of a way in which we may take this forward. You must understand there are several members of the cabinet who have serious objections and reservations, they will need to be persuaded and assured of the adequacy of the safeguards for the people this will affect and the oversight we will need to exercise."
"Of course." The Chairman smiled. So his agents were right. The cabinet was divided on this, but the waverers could be persuaded and it would be sufficient for the majority to agree this venture. It promised to give his organisation effective control of three new colony planets – in effect ratifying a status quo. The appropriate inducements could be worked out fairly easily no doubt, his team were already busy. "I am sure we can satisfy those who doubt our goodwill, after all, our control of WeapTech is already bearing fruit for the Fleet and the Confederacy is it not? I think we can assure the cabinet this venture will be even more economically beneficial to your government."
***
Admiral Van den Bosch looked up as Captain Heron and Commander Allison entered the office. He smiled a greeting. "Please sit down. I have good news, your power units will be replaced Commander – with the correct specification this time." He leaned back. "I've received a formal complaint from the Executive Chief of Staff regarding your confrontation with our Mister Ribble, I wish I'd been there to see it. I'm sure you won't be surprised."
"No, sir, I was expecting something of the sort. I'm afraid the man is a pompous idiot – a bloody over qualified and over promoted filing clerk. He'd no concept of the effect on the ship or its people of his 'cost cutting' changes. I hope he rots in hell!"
"Pretty much as I would have described him myself. You'll be pleased to hear we are seeing the back of him and we've now got a directive from the Fleet Council to the effect no 'unqualified' directors, executives or administrators may alter, amend or revise any technical matter on any ship whether in build, in maintenance or in service." He paused. "It's a little less than we'd hoped to get – we actually wanted them out of all positions of oversight or management – but it will do for now. I don't need to tell you the Council wasn't best pleased when they were told of the cost of the replacement of these units."
"Thank God for that," breathed Captain Heron. "It'll make life a lot easier not having to explain every damned thing to a bunch of non-technical people who have insisted on having their say over everything so far."
"I agree." The Admiral grinned. "Though perhaps reporting him for sabotage was a little over the top Commander."
"Maybe it was, sir," Mary replied. "But it was plain as anything he thought nothing of making changes to the equipment and installations without so much as a by your leave. I hear he's now under investigation anyway because his relationship with certain suppliers was a little too close."
"Your intel is obviously good then," the Admiral agreed. "That was supposed to be secret." He turned to the Captain. "Now James, are there any other deficiencies we need to deal with? How is the weapons kit?"
"So far only some minor glitches, Valerie is very much on top of her department and hasn't found any major hiccoughs as yet. Even the Primary 'scanner' seems to have all the right bits so far though there was a confrontation a day or so ago over one part the yard wanted to modify."
"Excellent. And Fritz; is he happy with the AI?"
The Captain laughed. "Fritz is in his element and each new node has him almost in a state worse than a father expecting triplets." He nodded. "Thanks for the support you and your people have given us over this problem, I'm confident we can now get the ship finished and operational on schedule and in a state to do everything she is designed to do."
"My pleasure – I've been trying to get the evidence I needed on the CE for some time, you found it. Now get your ship finished. She's first of class and she'll be the best too if I know you and your team. Good luck."
-
Chapter 9 — 1802: Corsair!
The ship rolled sluggishly, loose blocks clattering overhead as the sails slatted heavily against the rigging and spars, the fitful breaths of wind barely lifting them before dying away again. Since leaving Cape Trafalgar astern the winds had been fickle and light. Harry tugged at the sweat soaked collar of his shirt and wished he could shed the heavy jacket and his necktie. He moved his feet and felt the tar in the deck seams tug at the soles of his shoes. Away to Larboard, some sixty miles distant according to the ship's Master, lay the African coast, the land of Moorish corsairs and pirates, to Starboard the open Atlantic. He raised the signal glass to his eye again, training it on the fat Indiaman some two miles distant over their bow and wondered what it would be like on a John Company ship, perhaps less crowded than on the seventy-four gun Spartan.
"Deck there!" the lookout's cry brought a stirring among the watch keepers, "Five sail on the Port Quarter. Look to be galleys sir!"
"Mister Heron," Lieutenant Beasley called Harry over. "Take a glass aloft and tell me what you see with it." He turned to the second Midshipman, "Mister Tanner, get below to the Captain and give him my compliments; we appear to have Xebecs in sight."
Harry hurried to the main chains and swung himself up onto the ratlines, scrambling quickly up the long run to the maintop, climbing round the futtocks, and on up to the cross-trees. Settling himself beside th
e lookout, a small weather beaten man Harry knew as Tom Worth, he asked, "Where away are these galleys?"
"On our quarter sor," responded the lookout, pointing out the direction, "and moving fast sor, they wuz well astern when I fust saw 'em."
Harry focussed the telescope and the leader leapt into view as he caught her in the lens. A slim hull, with raked bows and a raised stern castle, its long overhang apparent even at this angle, the three masts and long lateen booms showed clearly, the sails furled. The light flashed on her oars as they rose and fell in unison. He noted that Worth's assessment was accurate – these craft were moving fast indeed.
"They move swiftly on those oars, there must be several men to each."
"Aye sir. Two usually. Slaves they be as rows 'em. Nasty buggers, them ships – can stay out of the way of our guns and still strike at us if they've a mind to."
"I see," said Harry thoughtfully. He called down to the deck, "Five galleys sir, under oar only. Running parallel to our course sir. On their present heading they will be ahead of us inside two hours."
Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure Page 6