“Very well. Signalman, relay this to intership telegrapher for immediate send. ‘To Admiral Mund aboard Resolve. Message starts: Have spotted—”
“Sir,” said the radioman, “incoming message from Admiral Mund.”
Well, speak of the devil—“Read it as you get it, Rating.”
“Admiral Mund commanding Resolve to Commander Cantrell, presumed to be in temporary command of Intrepid. Message begins: By joint order of Emperor Gustav Adolf and His Royal Highness Christian IV, I relinquish operational command of Reconnaissance Flotilla X-Ray to you for duration of first engagement. Stop. Awaiting instructions. Stop.”
Oh, so all the heads of state are seeing if I have the goods when the shit starts flying. Well, no reason not to give them a good show—“Radioman, send the following under my command line. To Admiral Mund, on Resolve: message received and acknowledged. Stop. To all ships: general quarters. Stop.” He turned to see Bjelke pound up the stairs to the observation deck. Eddie gave him an order and a welcoming nod in the same instant: “Sound general quarters, Mr. Bjelke. Orderly, make sure our passengers understand that ‘general quarters’ means ‘battle stations.’ Only duty personnel on deck.”
“And if they don’t understand that, sir?”
“Then correct their misunderstanding. With main force, if necessary. No exceptions. Including my wife. Especially my wife. Is that clear, mister?”
“Very clear, ja, sir!” And again the young orderly was off, with a rising tide of coronets and drums carrying him on his way.
Bjelke returned to his side. Gjedde watched from the rear rail of the observation deck. Eddie thought for a moment, then turned to the signalman, “Forward mount, get me range, bearing, and speed of the Spaniard. Then send to Crown of Waves and Courser: I need their precise heading and speed.”
“What are you thinking, Commander?” asked Bjelke.
“That whatever the Spanish do or do not understand from having seen us, we can’t let them escape and report. Just knowing that a flotilla of USE ships is on a course that would suggest a New World destination is bad enough. Anything else could be disastrous. They might have seen the smoke and presumed that one of our ships was on fire, or that we have whalers with us who were putting blubber through some of the new shipboard try-works. But someone with better information on the USE’s activities is likely to figure that this carrack spotted our steam warships. Word of this encounter can not—not—reach people with that kind of knowledge.”
The radioman called out. “All messages acknowledged, except Crown of Waves. I think something is wrong with her radio-set, sir. Lots of lost characters. And they seem to be losing some of ours, too.”
Well, now it’s a real military engagement: we’ve got commo snafus. So without the radio—“Send to Courser: Radio on Crown of Waves inoperable. Stop. Your position gives best line of sight and shortest range. Stop. Relay command signals to Crown of Waves via semaphore and aldriss lamp. Stop. End of Message. New message to Resolve starts. Drop to rear of formation. Stop. Remain at one mile distance. Stop. Deploy balloon ASAP. Stop. Maintain close rear watch. Stop. Message ends.”
Bjelke’s left eyebrow raised. “Rear watch, sir? A trap? Up here?”
“Traps are most effective where they’re least expected, wouldn’t you agree, Lieutenant Bjelke?”
“Aye, sir.”
“So we eliminate that admittedly slim possibility first, then take the next steps.”
Gjedde folded his arms. “And what steps are those?”
“To box the Spaniard in. Radioman?”
“Just received acknowledgment from Courser now. Captain Haraldsen passes along word that Major Lawrence Quinn sends his compliments and will oversee technical coordination on that hull.”
Eddie felt his heart rate diminish slightly. It was good to know the other—the only other—military up-timer in the flotilla was out there, lending a hand. The down-timers were competent, eager, and obedient, but sometimes, they just didn’t get how all the parts of a steam-and-sail navy worked together. In all probability, the most important test during this shakedown cruise would not be of Simpson’s new ships, but of the crews of his new navy. “Send Major Quinn my greetings and thanks. And have him relay this to the Crown of Waves: set course north by northwest, paralleling the Spaniard. Course for the Courser, the same.”
“Speed, sir?”
“What God and sail-handlers will allow, radioman. We are not raising steam.”
Bjelke made a sound of surprise. Eddie turned to look at him. “You can speak freely, Rik.”