Commander Cantrell in the West Indies(219)

“Okay, Arne. Then I’ll explain it to you, if you promise to go down there and explain it to them.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Svantner said sheepishly.

“To start with, where can we get more coal?”

“Uh . . . nowhere. Not without going back to Europe.”

“Precisely. There’s plenty of it here in the New World. Coming from a coal-mining town originally, I can assure you of that. But no one’s tapped into it yet. And it could be quite a while before they do. So we either burn the coal we brought with us, or the wood that comes to hand.”

“Yes, sir. Which is why we haven’t burned coal since the Battle of Grenada Passage.”

“Right. So, now: burning wood. You’ve seen how fast we go through it, particularly if we’re trying to get the boiler up to full pressure.”

Svantner nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s gone in no time.”

“But if we soak the wood in petroleum by-products, the ones we separated from the bitumen we took from Pitch Lake, then we get some of the benefits of oil burning, even though our engine is designed to burn solids.”

Svantner nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand all that. I suspect they do down in engineering, too. But it will still burn quickly, and these oil-soaked, one-inch cubes are not only as dirty as sin, but leave a flammable residue on whatever they touch. In short, what’s the benefit?”

“Saving coal by getting the engines to operating heat before we start shoveling it in. Svantner, tell me, have you seen the oil-treated cubes burn?”

The Swede nodded. “Yes, sir. Like the fires of hell itself.”

“Exactly. Now, let’s say we’re closing with the enemy and must get our engines up to speed, but we don’t know exactly when we’ll need to commence tactical maneuvers. That means we have to get the boilers up to a useful temperature quickly, but don’t want to burn any of our irreplaceable coal doing so, or holding them in preheated readiness.”

The figurative light came on over Svantner’s head. “So the oil in the wood cubes gives us that fast, high heat before we start shoveling in the coal.” He nodded again. “Thank you, sir. But Pabst is still worried about the wastes, is concerned it might leave a heavier residue that could smother the draught to the burners.”

Eddie nodded. “That’s a good thought, but we’ve separated out the impurities from the bitumen pretty well. So the treated wood should burn just as cleanly as regular wood. In addition, we’ve chosen woods that burn to a finer ash—a powder, really—that should actually make less trouble than coal dust.” He smiled. “Do you think that will make Pabst—and you—rest a little more easily?”

Svantner stared quickly at the deck again. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to—I wouldn’t dream of—”

“Arne, you needed to voice a concern that impacts the safe and effective operation of this ship, for which you are the executive officer. You’d be derelict in your duty if you didn’t bring the matter up with me. You’ve done your job, and done it well and respectfully. Now, if there’s nothing else—?”

“Sir, there is one other thing. Do you think the Spanish know that our steamships burn coal, predominantly?”

Eddie frowned. “I’d expect they do. It would be strange if none of their personnel weren’t familiar with at least that aspect of our steam technology.”

“Then I was wondering: are you using this wood to mislead them, to make them think we’re burning more coal than we are? When I saw the treated wood burning, just before we left Oranjestad, I noticed that the color of that smoke was close to what one sees with the coal.”

Eddie made sure he didn’t grin anywhere near as widely as he wanted to: Svantner was proving to be more shrewd than he originally seemed. “Well done, XO. That is exactly what I hope they’ll think. If they’re watching the clock, waiting for us to run out of coal or to start getting stingy with it, they’ll be working from the mistaken assumption that we started using it much earlier than we actually did. And every time they make that kind of wrong guess, it puts us in the position of be able to hand them another nasty surprise.”

Svantner nodded, chimed in with the mantra he’d learned recently. “Because the side that has to guess, and keeps guessing wrong, loses the initiative. They are playing by the rules set by the opposition.”

Eddie nodded, pleased. “And we want them playing by our rules, Mr. Svantner. Until they’ve lost the game and go home. Assuming there are any left to do so.”