Commander Cantrell in the West Indies(238)

Strangely, to Anne Cathrine’s eyes, that charge by forty or so defenders did more to break the spirit of the natives and the French than anything else. Maybe they reasoned that the defenders would not charge unless they had seen reinforcements approaching from the rear. Maybe it was the audacity of the countercharge. Maybe they thought the defenders of Oranjestad had gone insane with a berserker death-lust. Whatever the reason, the Kalinago and French broke ranks, shooting as they streamed back toward the low humps of The Quill’s northern foothills, apparently intending to reach their boats on the windward side of the island by the swiftest possible route.

The Wild Geese took the opportunity to swap new cylinders into their revolvers and renew their charge, the tall, auburn-haired man leading them after the repulsed invaders. Sophie rose slowly, looking at that man, head forward as if her eyes were straining after the sight of him, as if her ears were straining after his voice.

As she and Anne Cathrine watched, several of the French attackers turned, hurled something small and round at their pursuers just as the auburn-haired man stopped to help up a fallen comrade. One of the small black dots thrown by a Frenchman landed next to him. In the next instant, there was a small flash and a vicious puff of smoke, and Anne Cathrine could not tell if the man had leaped, or was blown aside, by the grenade.





Off Vieques, Caribbean Sea





Maarten Tromp read back across the recent and voluminous wireless exchanges. With his new executive officer peering over his shoulder, he shook his head and muttered, “I can find no flaw in Cantrell’s reasoning.” Tromp looked up at the skies, looked out over the three-foot seas. “We must split the fleet. And you must stand by the signalman to provide an explanation to our captains.”

Whereas Kees Evertsen would have launched into an animated inquiry as to why the fleet must be split in the face of two larger enemy formations, Adriaen Banckert showed that he was indeed his father’s son. The taciturn nineteen-year-old executive officer merely frowned. “Why, Admiral? Cannot we stay close to the USE steamships while they defeat the closest group to the west, and then the next one to the south?”

Tromp shook his head. “We cannot put that measure of faith in their guns, not in these seas. Their aim will be less accurate, and so they will not be able to effectively close with and destroy one enemy force without offering the other their stern.”

“So the enemy planned this to be able to inflict more damage upon the steamships?”

“Cantrell thinks that is only a secondary concern for the Spanish. And I think he is right.”

Adriaen put his hands behind his back. “Admiral, like the captains with whom I must soon communicate, I must wonder: what, then, are the Spanish after?”

Tromp looked up with a bitter smile, looked over his shoulder and the taffrail. Stretching into the far distance, the long line of Dutch warships gave way to an even more extended line of her supply fluyts. “They are after our conventional, sailed ships. But especially our supply ships.” Seeing no change on Banckert’s face, he sighed and gestured to the last visible sail of their formation. “The Spanish have been more crafty, and have learned more quickly, than we conjectured. They realized after the Battle of Grenada Passage that the steamships cannot be attacked directly. To do so is to commit suicide. So the main fleet before us has only been bait, a lure to get us to keep chasing the galleons of their fleet. But all the while, what they were really after was to pull us out of formation so that they could threaten our slowest ships. The ships that are carrying the thirteen hundred troops with which we mean to raze Santo Domingo and its facilities. The same ships that are carrying all our spare powder and balls, and which are carrying the extra ammunition and coal for the steamships.”

Now Adriaen Banckert’s beetled brows rose in understanding and alarm. “Of course. But how did they manage to coordinate the appearance of this second fleet?” He gestured to the rapidly growing mass of fore-and-aft rigged ships approaching out of the south.

“That is indeed an excellent question, Adriaen. But given our current position, I think they used the western mountains of St. Croix as a kind of marker, a place that their line of ambushers were to form up against. I suspect that is why they started approaching us along such a broad front. They were signaling, up and down that line, to maintain position and pass the word to begin their attack.”

Banckert nodded. “Still, it is a difficult feat.”

Tromp nodded. “It is indeed, even were those attackers as disciplined as the ships of a legitimate navy.”

Adriaen’s left eyebrow rose. “What do you mean, Admiral? How are the approaching ships not a ‘legitimate navy’?”