“Sorry, Commander. I thought it would be valuable if we knew how you were getting a ship to go so fast—I literally stumbled upon the torpedo in the shed and just wanted to know more.”
“Yes, well, your curiosity got London and Washington in quite the twit, Peter Wake. Some people on our side have the sadly suspicious idea that the Yanks are still a potential enemy and shouldn’t be allowed to know what we had paid dearly in effort and treasure to find out. You were almost considered a spy, don’t you know? In fact, the only reason there weren’t more severe consequences was the rather delicate condition of internal British politics. The whole thing was bloody embarrassing for us. Her Majesty’s government was not amused.”
“And now, Commander? Why are you showing it to me now?”
“Because you aren’t a threat to us. You know, and will know, nothing of the secret technical details. But you’ll understand that with this new weapon the Royal Navy is not to be trifled with by anyone. It is useful for us that the American navy, and others in the world, comprehend this. Plus, you’re really not a very proficient anti-British spy, are you? That has been determined beyond a doubt.”
“By a certain Royal Marine lieutenant?”
“Among others,” Fisher said with mock mystery. “Come, let’s see the objects of your desire, shall we?”
They descended the forehatch to the gun deck, then down another deck. In a dark compartment near the bows Fisher showed Wake the stacked torpedoes and their two launching mechanisms, a contraption that slid them down a retractable ramp through a door in the hull on each side of the stem. The first thing that hit Wake was their size. Like the one at Antigua, they were twenty feet at least.
“These must be very difficult to handle safely up here forward with the pitching of the bow?”
“Very good observation,” said Fisher. “They are difficult to handle and set the fusing in any kind of sea. But once we can launch them, they will do the job better than any previous torpedo.”
“Before I saw yours in Antigua I thought only our navy had torpedoes this big, sir. Is some of this innovation from our developments?”
“Yes. We know some of the basics of what Howell is doing at Newport. And no, to your unasked question—we have not spied upon your work. No need—it was published in Scientific American magazine. But most of the capability in this model comes from Whitehead’s work in his factory on the Adriatic. This is the newest torpedo in the world, Peter. It outperforms all others.”
“How? If I may ask, sir?”
“We can sink a stationary ship at two thousand yards, a moving one at one thousand yards. We can fill an area several thousand yards square with a few of these and deny that area to the enemy. It’s not the hits that count, Peter. It’s the fear of the unseen weapon that might be there. Terror—a very effective deterrent. Especially toward Continental Europeans.”
Wake didn’t understand that. “Sir?”
“Unlike us, they are land animals and overanalyze everything having to do with the sea, so they end up not doing anything. Probably wouldn’t work toward Americans, though. You Yanks have the very disconcerting habit of not caring about the odds.”
“Of course,” Fisher’s voice relaxed. “We in the Royal Navy like to flatter ourselves that you got that trait from us.”
Wake chuckled. “I do believe we did, sir!”
He grew serious. “Thank you for showing me this. It’s very impressive, sir. Is Peter Allen part of your work?”
“Oh no, he’s Marine—they’re useless for this kind of thing, you know. He was coincidentally convenient for us a few months back when you crossed paths. He’s a courier to England on this trip; he’ll be back in the Med in a month. Admiral Drummond uses him for special assignments.”
“I thought he was keeping an eye on me. We’ve become good friends, sir. He’s a good man.” Wake paused. “Commander, the Royal Navy is the forerunner of the American Navy. We learned our profession from you. We’re not your enemy. I have a feeling that one of these days we’ll be fighting together against a common foe.”
“Peter, you’re right. And I have a feeling that foe’s name will have a Teutonic sound to it. Maybe not in the next ten years, but definitely in our lifetime.”
Fisher sighed, gestured aft and said, “I think that lunch is probably laid on in the wardroom by now, Peter. Shall we join the respected Lieutenant Allen? Marines generally make poor dinner companions—all that growling and drooling—but they do tell a good tale.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
***
Rabat had no harbor. The open roadstead off the mouth of the Oued Bou Regreg river undulated with rollers coming down the Atlantic coast and Inconstant swayed her masts in the swells when she stopped a half mile off the beach. Rork and Wake, back in their blues, said their farewells.
Rork slapped the backs of his new British petty officer pals, pronouncing them the “best o’ the best—almost Irish!” then leaped with a grin down into the cutter waiting alongside to take the Americans ashore. Wake’s departure was considerably more subdued but no less heartfelt.
“Goodbye, Captain. Thank you for making that decision to get some target practice. You saved our lives.”
He turned to his friend Peter Allen. “After the Alcázar and the Barbary corsairs, I think we’re even now, Pete. Good luck and have fun with those pretty English girls. I know we’ll see each other again someplace.”
Allen shook his head. “I can’t believe you, Yank. Just when I think it’s smooth sailing and life might even get a bit dull, you show up. So of course I know we’ll meet again—when I least expect it. Good luck to you and your man Rork. And beware ashore, my friend. There’re pirates there too.”
Fisher stepped forward and offered
