women and children! Civilians!”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Jenks said bitterly, “but are we to start a war with them the same way?”
“It’s already started!” Matt almost shouted in frustration.
Jenks pointed at the ships, still serene at anchor in the island’s lee. Surely they’d seen them by now, but as yet, there was no visible reaction. “Not for them!”
Matt removed his hat and raked his hair back. “Talker,” he snapped. “What does the lookout see?”
“Ahh, confusion aboard enemy ships,” Minnie reported, and Matt slapped his leg with his hat.
“Mr. Kutas, come right thirty degrees. Slow to one-third. Stand by for flank. Pack Rat? Hoist the battle flag, if you please.”
“Right thirty, aye,” Kutas replied, and repeated the order to the helmsman. Staas-Fin (Finny) confirmed he’d rung the engine room and was ready to signal the increase. “Tabasco” scrambled up the ladder aft with Matt’s pistol and sword belt. He snatched the battered hat from his captain and handed over a helmet. Matt put it on but gestured for his steward to keep the belt for now.
“Cap-i-taan,” said Minnie, “all stations manned an’ ready. Mr. Spaanky has auxiliary conn an’ asks what the hell we doing.”
“Tell him that, to suit the sensibilities of our allies, we’re going to give the enemy a chance to shoot first. Tell Campeti not to return fire immediately but to wait for the command!”
“Ay, ay, Cap-i-taan,” Minnie replied nervously.
“This is nuts,” Gray said, glaring at Jenks.
“Cap-i-taan,” Minnie cried, “lookout say rockets-flares-burst over enemy ships!”
Matt looked through the window to starboard as Walker steered to run parallel to the anchorage. He saw the dwindling sparkles in the sky. “I guess they’re passing the word,” he said, with a glance of his own at Jenks. Most of the Dominion ships were stern-on to the old destroyer as she steamed south, angling to cross down the line of anchored vessels, at a range of roughly fifteen hundred yards; close enough to entice a shot, but not close enough to make it easy. A few were starting to get their act together, cutting their cables and beginning to move backward, blossoming headsails pulling them around. Finally, one ship, its broadside clear, vanished behind a rolling cloud of smoke.
“All ahead flank!” Matt yelled. “Left full rudder!”
The helmsman spun the wheel and with a deep, vibrating groan, Walkerrrrrrrrr’s screws clawed at the sea. A wide cluster of waterspouts erupted in her wake, and one shot struck the ship with a hollow boom.
“Damage report!” Matt demanded. “Rudder amidships.”
Minnie shook her head. “Mr. Spaanky say a big ball whacked the stern at starboard propeller guard. It falling when it hit, an’ splash in sea. Maybe just a dent.”
“My rudder amidships,” announced the ’Cat at the wheel.
“Very well. Hold your course. Damage control to the steering engine room!”
Another ship fired an erratic broadside, but Walker was picking up speed. At this range, few balls would skate off the wavetops, and all the geysers erupted aft. They waited a few minutes. Evidently, the enemy believed they’d chased the strange ship away, because there was no more firing. Nearing four thousand yards again, they had no chance of hitting, anyway.
“Helm, come to course one, six, zero!” Matt said. He looked at Finny. “Slow to two-thirds before we suck the bunkers dry. Minnie, tell Campeti we’re about to settle down and when we do, I want him to punish those bastards!” Finally, he looked at Jenks. “Satisfied, Commodore?” He waited for a nod, then resumed. “Harvey, I consider you a friend, amazingly enough. Particularly considering the foot we started on. But there’s only so much you can ask of this ship and her crew, especially with what’s at stake-here and elsewhere. We all need Walker, and she needs her crew. I’ll risk them both; I have many times, but what we just did was plain stupid. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t any rules in this damn war. You can say fighting like the enemy makes us like them, but that’s not true. We didn’t start it, and we can’t hold ourselves to an artificial standard they don’t even recognize.” He straightened and took a breath. “So I went ahead and proved it to you again. But here’s the deal: friends or not, that was the last time. Expecting more stunts like that one, to prove a point, to show we’re better than they are, is pushing too far. We are better than they are, and I don’t feel like proving it again!”
“Caam-pee-tee has a solution, Skipper,” Minnie said.
“Very well. Commence firing.”
The salvo buzzer rang, and the foredeck lit up under the overcast sky as the number one gun bucked and spit flame and white smoke. They had no tracers for the new ammunition yet, but the rhino-pig lard they lubed the projectiles with to keep the fouling soft left a spiraling smoke trail. It didn’t matter. Matt had no doubt that the shells from numbers one, three, and four would converge either short or long of the target. The EMs had replaced all the ships old, corroded, electrical fire control systems and connections, and they’d finally compensated for the different velocity of the 4.7-inch dual-purpose Japanese gun that had replaced number four. They also had sharp eyes to watch for the fall of shot. A moment later came the cry from the fire control platform above to adjust “Down fifty! Match pointers! Fire!” This time the three exploding shells, two with black powder bursting charges and one with high explosive, demolished the first target, a Dom heavy of some sort, the first one that fired at them. Campeti immediately shifted to the next. In moments, perhaps a dozen enemy ships were burning or destroyed, and still the pounding continued. Walker ceased firing at the southern end of the anchorage and reversed course, to continue flailing at the enemy. The dark cliffs of the distant island glowed with the flames of burning ships.
“Damn,” breathed Kutas with satisfaction. “It’s almost like ‘Makas-sar Strait’ all over again,” he said, referencing their only real success in their “old” war against the Japanese.
Some of the enemy was making sail at last, trying to escape the growing inferno, but none could succeed as long as Walker had ammunition. Matt knew he couldn’t destroy them all-they simply didn’t have enough shells-but they could break the force destined for Saint Francis and leave it too weak to accomplish its mission. As soon as enough of the warships were dealt with, he meant to move in closer and shatter as many transports as he could. For a while, he watched the slaughter with his jaw grimly set, oblivious to all but the destruction he wrought.
“Captain Reddy!” He finally heard his name over the booming guns and diminishing swoosh of shells. It was Jenks.
“What?”
“Your ‘talker’!”
Matt spun. “What is it?”
“Cap-i-taan,” Minnie repeated, “the lookout says those giant lizard birds are back. Dozens of ’em, an’ they flying this way!”
Matt, Jenks, and the Bosun ran out on the starboard bridgewing and focused their binoculars. High above, and ignoring the enemy ships, came a ragged formation of the oversize creatures.
“My God,” Jenks muttered. “I’ve never seen so many together!”
“Will they attack?” Matt asked.
“It appears that’s their intent. Look, some have large stones in their claws!”
“Why ain’t they dumpin’ ’em on those Doms?” Gray demanded.
“I’ve no idea.” Jenks paused nervously. “Captain Reddy, those dragons really shouldn’t tolerate the Doms on ‘their’ island while they inhabit it!”
“Then what the hell?”
“I can’t answer. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Matt tore his eyes from the binoculars. “Air action starboard!” he roared. “All hands not on gun’s crews will take small arms and prepare to repel boarders, but try to stay undercover!”
It was incredible. There were forty or fifty of the things winging toward them. In most respects they looked like their smaller cousins the destroyermen had grown accustomed to, pacing the ship and shitting on the decks whenever they ventured near land. These “lizard birds” were bigger than Grik, however, and had a lot in common with the Ancient Enemy except for their wings and the bright colors of their furry plumage. The closer they came, the more terrifying they appeared.
Behind him, Matt heard the muffled thumping of feet on metal rungs as ’Cats raced up the ladder to the fire control platform, draped with belts of. 30-cal for the machine guns mounted there. Others brought extra ammo to the. 50s on the amidships deckhouse; beyond that, the Japanese pom-poms where the aft torpedo tubes used to be were made ready as well. Sailors scrambled to the rails with Springfields and muskets, passed out by Lanier, Chief
