Commander Cantrell in the West Indies(208)

“How timely an axiom,” murmured van Walbeeck. “Here comes another one of those potentially difficult allies, now.”

Hannibal Sehested, attired in understated splendor that flattered the event without quite making him conspicuous, approached with a broad smile. “Gentlemen,” he said in passable Dutch, “how do you fare this evening?”

They bowed, Jan replying as he did so. “Quite well, Sir Sehested, and our thanks for your sovereign’s generosity, that we might make merry while making the formal acquaintance of his lovely daughters.”

He bowed in return. “I wish the evening could do both better honor to the ladies, and to you, our hosts in this far land. And it saddens me that fate had us choose the date that should turn out to be the same as marks our mourning of Admiral Mund.”

“Indeed,” agreed Tromp solemnly. “I did not know him well, but he seemed prudent and concerned for the safety of his men.” Tromp spotted Eddie entering the building from the rear door, scanning faces as he began roving along the edges of the early-comers. “Ah, Commander Cantrell, do join us.” And save me from this eager young Danish diplomat.

Eddie, looking very distracted, stopped, nodded and wandered over, remembering to bow instead of shaking hands at the very last second. “Nice to see you all, gentlemen. I wonder if you have seen my lovely wife?”

“I am afraid not, Lord Cantrell, although with half an hour left before her entrance, I would not expect to find her here,” Sehested replied. “But this is an excellent vantage point to scan for her, if she makes an early appearance. And as you do, you might perhaps share your insights on our fallen hero, Admiral Mund.”

Eddie sounded confused, looked suddenly cautious. “Uh—insights? I can’t really say I knew him that well.”

“No, of course not. Pros Mund was a private man. And so, the causes of his actions were not always fully understood by those who witnessed them. Indeed, I had not foreseen that he would be such an indomitable lion once was combat was joined. But he was bold indeed, taking so many prizes.”

Tromp suppressed a sigh. Now Sehested’s motivation for this conversation was becoming clear: to further “discuss” the matter of the Spanish prize ships. Which had caused some debate in the wake of the battle.

Of the twenty-six Spanish ships that were present for the Battle of the Grenada Passage, three had been sunk outright. Five more were so badly damaged by the guns of the USE steam cruisers that they had necessarily been scuttled. Three had to be abandoned before guns or other valuable items could be recovered from them. The fires had been too dangerous and widespread to risk coming alongside. Four had been taken as prizes, although only one—a refitted nao that had struck her colors when the Intrepid bore down upon her—was fundamentally undamaged. Of the other three, one—a galleoncete that Tromp’s own Dutch ships had been raked with fire and disabled before she could flee with the rest of the Spaniards’ southern van—was still capable of independent maneuver. The other two, galleons much pummeled by the two USE steam cruisers, had suffered immense damage to their spars, and, in one case, the rudder and tiller mechanism.

An even split of the prizes was deemed fair in the immediate aftermath of the battle, the Dutch claiming a galleon and the galleoncete that they had taken themselves, while the USE and Danish contingent had settled for the nao and a galleon.

However, upon radioing a report of this ahead to Oranjestad when they finally came into range, Hannibal Sehested had initiated a swift, if polite, challenge to that apportionment of spoils. Specifically, the Danish diplomat had argued that the steam cruisers had performed the greatest deeds of the day, and so, had earned more than half of the prizes. When there was some resistance to this by Tromp, Sehested countered by pointing to the bravery and sacrifice of Mund as a further reason that it was the contribution of the Danes (he began omitting references to the USE at this point) which had made the victory possible at all. Accordingly, they should at least be given the two largest warships—the galleons—instead of accepting the ponderous and decidedly mercantile nao as one of their prizes.

It was uncertain how the debate would ultimately have resolved, had not Ove Gjedde finally, and reluctantly, become involved. He pointed out that the galleons were not particularly useful to his own Danish fleet as warships. In the current circumstances, they were too slow and incorrectly rigged for military operations in the Caribbean, and two galleons would have been difficult to crew, when the flotilla already had enough guns and hulls to man. However, in claiming the nao, Gjedde pointed out that Denmark had also received first choice of her intact stores and cargo, and that being a high weather ship, like a galleon, she would be well-suited to convoying those spoils home to Copenhagen. Sehested was at pains to graciously accept this perspective (which matched the original division of prize hulls) and thanked Gjedde for his “subtle wisdom” in making these choices on behalf of Sehested and King Christian IV. Or, as Simonszoon had commented, for having shown that the Danish diplomat had as much knowledge about ships as a boar had about bathtubs.