Assault on Zanzibar: Book Four of the Westerly Gales Saga

by E. C. Williams

  Somewhat surprisingly, he proved to be a confident speaker, with a resonant tenor voice that filled the chamber. Much of his presentation was, to Sam, eye-glazing statistics. Nevertheless, he made some points very strongly with his numbers. He demonstrated that urbanization, in the form of the Two Towns, had increased faster than the population, with a consequent relative decrease in the proportion engaged in fishing and farming. As a result, Kerguelen no longer fed itself solely from its own efforts, but imported a growing proportion of its foodstuffs. This was not a negative thing, he stressed – it resulted in a diet more diverse and tastier, and no doubt healthier -- than the traditional monotonous Kerg fare of fish, cabbage, and potatoes varied slightly with an occasional holiday meal of mutton, potatoes, and cabbage.

  With a few exceptions, this imported food came from the Mascarene Islands, in the form of rice, sugar, rum, preserved tropical fruit, and salt fish of species not native to Southern Ocean waters. He pointed out, as well, that rice formed not only a direct part of people's’ diets, but an indirect one as well, in the form of feed for chickens and pigs.

  The import of tropical hardwoods, valuable both for shipbuilding, construction, and furniture-making on Kerguelen, and for re-export to other treeless islands, like the Falklands and South Georgia, was highly sensitive to changes in freight rates.

  Then he turned to the seemingly inexorable rise in insurance rates, and thus freight rates, for vessels in the tropical trades. This was due to the Pirate threat, added to the normal perils of the sea. He cited statistics showing the large employment of Kerguelenians in the maritime trades, not just directly but in scores of related industries. It surprised Sam just how great wasthe proportion of Kerg workers, all townsmen, working in jobs that did not seem on their face to have any connection to maritime trade, but were utterly dependent on it.

  Too, he hadn’t known how great a proportion of cargoes carried in the round-the-world services were directly dependent on the north-south trade, since much of the tropical produce imported to Kerguelen was re-shipped to the Kerguelen diaspora all around the Southern Ocean. These islands depended largely on Kerguelenian vessels for their carrying trade, since they had no significant merchant fleets of their own.

  Retief then revealed the most somber part of his presentation: statistics that showed that trade with the Mascarene Islands had plateaued, and was beginning to show signs of decline. Orders for new schooners were down sharply, a sign of a loss of shipowner confidence that the trade would continue to grow. Prices of tropical goods, after declining steadily right up until the beginning of the Pirate threat, had begun to rise ominously. He attributed this fall off to the continuing rise of insurance rates, threatening the profitability, and even the continued existence, of shipowners in the north-south trades.

  He then stated that his research indicated a further steep decline in the trade, beginning sometime during the current quarter, if present trends continued.

  What effects would such a decline have? A rise in unemployment in the Towns, increases in food prices (both locally produced and imported); bankruptcy of many shipowners and at least half of the shipbuilding firms; and the destruction of millions of francs of capital investment in schooners, which were wholly unsuited to the round-the-world trades and thus had no viable alternative employment.

  Finally, as the trade died completely, there would be a massive redeployment of workers from relatively well-paid employment in the Towns to farming and fishing – harder, less-remunerative, and, in the case of fishing, more dangerous jobs, with a resulting sharp decline in the standard of living.

  Then, without peroration or summary, Retief simply said, “Thank you for your kind attention” and sat down.

  Sam looked around the room. Everyone seemed stunned at the implications of his speech. Or merely confused by all the statistics.

  Mother Moreau then stood up, leaving her prepared notes on her seat, and brilliantly summarized Retief’s remarks, in plain, direct language without the numbers, charts, and graphs. Like the master politician she was, she extemporized brilliantly, with no “hums’ or “ers”, no stuttering or repetitions.

  Sam continued to watch faces, gauging reactions. Almost everyone seemed to be paying rapt attention. He saw nods of agreement, looks of appalled comprehension. Mother was combining the power of repetition with strong, direct, declarative sentences, and clearly hitting home.

  She concluded with a reference to the attack on the Amour Insouciant, making the point that it was very well armed and manned for a merchant ship, yet would have been taken if not for the timely appearance of the Wasp. She alluded only indirectly to “… Commodore Bowditch’s tragic personal loss”, sticking to the letter if not the spirit of her agreement with Sam not to use Maddie’s death as a political tool.

  She ended with a rousing call to “Fund the Navy! Protect Kerguelen’s future!” and sat down.

  Sam stood up slowly, gathering his thoughts for a long moment before he began speaking. Then he simply recounted the events leading up to the foundation of the RKN: the disappearances of Kerg merchant men; the assault on Mauritius. He told of early successes against the Pirates: the initial decline in Pirate attacks on merchant vessels; the Moonlight Battle in defense of Nosy Be; the Battle at Anchor at Mayotte; the repulse of the second Zanzibari attempt, in greater force, on Nosy Be; and the taking of Mafia Island and its value as a base for intercepting Pirate dhows on passage to and from Zanzibar.

  He related the early successes of naval aviation, and the great hopes for it as a potential war-winner, and how lack of replacement aircraft and the shortage of parts, pilots, and technicians, had dashed these hopes. He pointed out that series production of airplanes, rather than the way they were presently being individually handcrafted, would result in lowering the unit cost as well as speeding up their production. He told them of Dave’s ideas for a purpose-built dive bomber, and a lightweight 37mm gun that could be mounted in a plane, and that he was convinced these ideas had worth, and should be trialed.

  He told them vivid stories about the success of motor gun-launches, armed with the recoilless rifle, and how useful they were in the inshore effort to stop the flow of supplies and reinforcements to the Pirates on Mafia Island – and how much more useful more of them would be. He related the “self-help” project that resulted in the building of the Mafia Utukufu. He added that she had proved to be just the extra firepower they needed to win the battle of Dar es Salaam Creek – but they could not build any more for lack of engines and armament.

  So far, he had spoken in a flat, matter-of-fact, tone, but now his voice rose as he told them of his urgent need for more schooners, for the shipping-protection role. And not just converted cargo schooners, but three-masters with hulls designed for speed, with auxiliary propulsion, and carrying a 37mm rifle and a motor boat armed with a 75mm recoilless rifle. Schooners so armed had proven highly successful against two or even three Pirate dhows; with greater speed under sail and auxiliary propulsion they would be nearly invincible.

  He ended with an appeal he had thought of during Retief’s economics lesson.

  “If we could build these schooners here on Kerguelen, as well as the engines and guns, it would add greatly to their availability while keeping some of the Navy budget at home, creating jobs for Kerg citizens. We already have a prototype of such a schooner, and I believe it will be highly successful in the shipping protection role once I have it up north, where I can fit her with a 37mm rifle and her boat with a motor and a 75mm recoilless gun. One of our engineers, as I speak, is drawing up plans for a slightly larger version of this schooner, should she prove as effective as I believe she will be.

  “Also, we could make guns and ammo on Kerguelen, as well as engines and aviation instruments, to be shipped north so that we can build more planes and gunboats; again, keeping money and jobs right here.

  “Thank you for considering these pleas,” he said, ending his talk, and then sat down.

  Mother squeezed hi
s arm and whispered, “Oh, well done, Sam! Well done!” And, indeed, Sam had noticed nods of agreement, and expressions of enthusiastic approval, especially when he spoke of increasing war production on Kerguelen – ship builders and machine shop owners looked especially happy at that.

  The rest of the debate was an anti-climax. The opposition’s arguments were weak, stressing mainly the cost of funding the bill, and offering no answer to Retief’s economic arguments, nor Sam’s appeal to local ship builders and manufacturers.

  The Speaker ended debate with a rap of her gavel, and ordered the room cleared of non-members for the vote.

  As Mother shooed Sam out of the room, he asked, “Why can’t non-members stay for the vote?”

  “Because it is the custom of the house to vote by standing to signify approval, and the Speaker doesn’t want the count muddled by the presence of non-members, that’s why. Now, on your way Sam. The vote will take only a little time, and you’ll have your answer … and just between you and me, I think we have reason to be optimistic!”

  Sam and the rest of the onlookers made their way out of the room, causing a traffic jam at the exit, and porters closed and locked the doors once they were all out.

  They milled around impatiently in the anteroom, some trying to listen to what was happening, without much success. Time dragged on, and it became clear that it wasn't a simple up or down vote -- they were discussing or debating the bill, or some aspect of it. Sam wondered how this debate-after-the-debate fit into the rules of the council.

  Finally, the doors opened and the council members flooded out if the chamber, talking and chatting as they dispersed to their offices, the dining room, homes, or other work places. Sam searched impatiently for Mother, and when he found her in the crowd, saw that she was beaming -- a good sign.

  “I gather it passed,” Sam said. “What took so long?”

  “Yes, Sam -- it passed overwhelmingly, with no reduction in the amount the committee sought! All of the discussion was about one amendment, which also passed.”

  “Amendment?” Sam asked suspiciously.

  “To spend the biggest possible chunk of the navy budget here on Kerguelen. And all purpose-built seagoing vessels for the navy are to be built in Kerguelen yards.”

  “That makes so much sense that I’ve always wondered why that wasn’t the case from the start.”

  “Because the centime-pinchers thought it would be cheaper to have things made nearer the theater of operations. With a much bigger budget, it has suddenly dawned on them that it could create a lot of jobs for constituents if it were spent here.”

  “Terrific. But I’ll need to expand Foch’s staff, and make the engineering officers ashore full-time paid reservists. I’ll need them to oversee procurement and shipbuilding.”

  “You’ll have the budget to do that now, Sam -- and almost anything else you think necessary. This is a very, very important moment for the RKN!”

  “I know, Mother, and I can’t thank you enough for your efforts on the navy’s behalf. I’ve been remiss in not telling you so.”

  “Oh, Ça ne fait rien! It’s my job, Sam. And now I propose a big celebratory dinner, with the committee and all your officers who are here in French Port.”

  “I’m afraid that’ll have to wait, Mother. I have too much to do now -- I need to be back on the flagship in Chole Bay as soon as possible. Rain check?”

  “Very well. Perhaps we should wait until you have won the war, and then we can really celebrate.”

  “One thing at a time, Mother. You’ve heard my views on the likelihood of a total victory.”

  “Oh, Sam -- think positively! With the resources you have now, anything is possible.”

  Sam merely smiled and nodded -- he didn’t want to spoil Mother’s joy at her political victory with his doubts about military victory.

  “But now, Mother,” Sam said, “the Commander and I must beg to be excused. We have a great deal to do and not much time to do it. There’s not a moment to be lost.”

  Thirteen

  “Take departure with Suzanne Point Light abeam, Gadge -- I mean, Mr. Kennedy.” He had nearly forgotten that Kennedy, having passed his Master’s exam with top marks, was now the most junior lieutenant in the Navy, no longer a mid, and now spared the demeaning title “gadget”.

  “And don’t forget to …”

  “Don’t forget what, Commodore?”

  “I was about to say, ‘don’t forget to stream the log’, but of course I know you wouldn’t forget a thing like that.”

  “No, sir, I won’t forget. But I’m grateful for the reminder, sir.”

  Sam smiled to himself at Kennedy’s tact. He had never forgotten how he had given offense to a lieutenant, a seasoned Master Mariner with significant command experience, by that same careless remark.

  Northbound vessels normally took departure from a point much further north, but Sam was so anxious to get back to Mafia Island that he marked the formal beginning of the voyage as soon as it was possible to do so. This didn’t change the fact that the trip would take as long as it would take, but it made Sam happier to know that the taffrail log was turning over sea-miles, that they were officially under way.

  The past few weeks had been among the most hectic he had ever experienced. To begin with, making a complete set of sails for a two-masted schooner was hardly a quick or trivial task, even though the Navy had parceled it out among every reputable sail loft in French Port, with bonuses promised for prompt delivery.

  In the interim, Kennedy was recruiting and selecting a ship’s company, from Second Mate to ordinary seaman. This proved to be quick and easy -- men (and one woman) were eager to serve under the famous Commodore Bowditch. But when they reported aboard, on the specified day, they found that no one had ordered hammocks for the ABs and Ordinaries, nor were the required hooks installed in the tween deck. Kennedy got a rocket for this oversight -- his first as a commissioned officer but probably not his last -- and he switched one of the sail lofts from sails to hammocks, on an emergency basis, and tasked the yard with putting in hooks at the regulation spacing. There was also the headache of how to berth the female cook, the bosun’s wife. (The Mate was unable to find a suitable second cook). They resolved her berthing problem by having the yard partition off a corner of the tween deck as a tiny private cabin for her. Sharing a marital bed with her husband wasn’t going to be possible this trip.

  The Mate had to send all the crew, except for the second mate and the petty officers, home or back to the hall until he could have this done. In the meantime, he started the process of storing the schooner for the voyage. It went slowly at first, with only Second Mate Kennedy, the Bosun, and the sailmaker to load and stow. Since the schooner wasn’t equipped with mooring lines, the Bosun was lost to the stores effort; once the cordage was aboard, he had to begin cutting line to size, turning in eye splices, and seizing eyes and ends.

  However, shipyard hands installed hooks for hammocks with no more than the normal lassitude of a firm that has already paid in full, and once the sail loft had delivered the hammocks, the crew could be recalled to duty. Kennedy, still stinging from the Commodore’s rebuke, made sure he quickly completed storing the vessel.

  Although she was still lacking her sails, Sam decided to go ahead with the launching. This, and a dead-ship shift to a berth, under command of two tugs, was a laborious process taking an entire day. The next day was spent in drilling the crew in striking below the top masts and rigging for the storm Marconi sails they did not yet have, then setting them up again; over and over until they could do it in their sleep and had cut their initial times by half and more.

  The schooner was ready for her builder’s trials and shakedown cruise in the sheltered waters of Morbihan Bay. Unfortunately, two things were still lacking: a suit of sails and an engineer to run the motor generator set and rig the mast-top wind generators. The growing number of schooners in the tropical trades opting for MG sets, to have reliable power in the light and variable bree
zes of the Mascarene Islands, was out-running the supply of trained marine engineers. Days passed, while Sam raged at the delays and Kennedy racked his brain for busywork to occupy the crew.

  Then the glorious day arrived when all came right at once: They found an engineer and signed him on, and the sails began to arrive. The crew knocked off their superfluous scrubbing, painting, polishing, and tying of turks’ heads on every stanchion, and turned-to rigging the sails.

  “Set up the topmasts and rig the fore and main courses, Mister Kennedy,” Sam said. “If we get a lull I want to see how she handles under full sail.”

  But the lull didn’t occur -- it was one of the too-common days when it was so blowy that even on the sheltered waters of the bay the wind was far too strong for a full set of canvas. The Tommie kedged away from the Long Pier and crept cautiously out into the bay under only double-reefed courses and a single storm jib.

  Even under shortened sail, she was lively, visibly accelerating on a port tack out into the steep chop, which she handled like a thoroughbred, riding gracefully, without excessive heel.

  Sam laughed aloud. “What a perfect little lady of a schooner!” he exclaimed and Kennedy laughed too, both exhilarated by the salt spray and the motion of the vessel. Even the yard master, a weather-beaten old salt who had done hundreds of sea trials, was grinning like a boy. “Think you’ll take ‘er, Commodore?” he said.

  “Oh, I think she’ll do, Captain. I think she’ll do!” Sam replied. But he touched the wooden rail at the same time so as not to jinx her.

  And within just a few days, here they were, at last -- at last -- on their way back to the zone of war -- and Sam’s adolescent Navy, nourished by him from its infancy and closer to his heart than anything but the memory of Maddie.

  “Attention on deck!” The assembled captains rose to their feet as Commodore Ennis entered the crowded wardroom. All four were present, including Mike Christie of Roland, recalled from her cruising station off the northern coast of Mafia, temporarily replaced by Mafia Utukufu.