A Mighty Fortress (112 page)

Eighty- four of Pawal’s crew had been killed or wounded in the battle.
Squall
had escaped with only three wounded, but
Shield
had suffered another thirty- two casualties. That was a hundred and nineteen sailors and Marines out of action, and seventy- one of them were dead. It was likely a third of the survivors would be permanently disabled, as well. Even if they weren’t, it would be a long time before they returned to duty. But the pressing point was that those casualties represented a third of a galleon’s total complement, and his supply of replacements was limited.

Very
limited.

The admiral crossed his arms across his chest, leaning one shoulder moodily into the window frame as he contemplated that unpalatable fact.

He’d anticipated personnel losses. Even aboard a Charisian ship, there were always ways a man could be killed or injured. Falls from aloft, accidents at gunnery practice, hands or feet accidentally crushed moving any of the myriad heavy weights aboard a warship ....Unlike some navies, at least drunkenness was seldom a factor in the ICN. Other navies—the pre- conquest Corisandian navy and, especially, the Imperial Harchongese Navy came forcibly to mind—provided daily issues of rum to their crews. The men in those navies looked forward to their daily “tots” as a palliative for the boredom, drudgery, and (especially aboard Harchongese ships) misery of their lives, and more than a few spent as much of their time in an alcohol- induced fog as possible.

Manthyr was a naturally abstemious man, yet he had had nothing against alcohol. Nor did he begrudge his men what ever small pleasures they could find. The Charisian Navy’s position for over a hundred years, however, had been that drunkenness on duty was unacceptable. It was one of the few offenses for which the Navy still prescribed flogging for an enlisted man; in an officer’s case, it cost him his commission. Fortunately, conditions aboard Charisian warships were far better than most of those other navies could boast. Charisian seamen seldom felt the need to escape into a drunken haze, and even if they had, opportunities would have been few. Not that alcohol was completely banned aboard Charisian warships. Their crews were issued beer (and
good
beer, at that) every day, usually for their mid day meal; for supper, at other times. And rum was often issued for medicinal purposes or on celebratory occasions. But it was kept under lock and key between such instances and was nowhere near as available as in other navies.

As a consequence, the accident rate aboard Charisian warships was barely a tenth as high as that aboard, say, a Harchongese galley.

Accidents still happened, though, and despite all the Order of Pasquale could do about diet and hygiene, the packed living conditions aboard any warship, with its manpower- intensive crew and inescapably damp environment, too often became breeding grounds for disease. So, yes, he’d allowed for a certain number of casualties even exclusive of any which might be inflicted by enemy action.

Unfortunately, it was evident his estimates had been low. The battle off Dragon Island represented the first true test case for what was likely to happen when the Imperial Charisian Navy confronted equally determined, properly designed enemy galleons, and it was clear to him that he’d been overconfident. Pawal’s small squadron had triumphed despite a significant numerical disadvantage, and Manthyr strongly suspected his ships had inflicted heavier casualties than they’d taken. Yet from the squadron’s reports, he also suspected that if the Dohlaran commander had been prepared to haul off to make repairs, then renew the action, the result might have been much less satisfactory.

And what ever happened here, I’m down half a galleon’s crew—probably more than that, by now, in the squadron as a whole, allowing for accidents and disease—and I’ve just added an additional ship. So where, exactly, do I find the men to man them?

The question had a certain pertinency, yet at the moment it actually came second to a more pressing concern. The Earl of Thirsk was a tough- minded professional. He’d draw much the same conclusions Manthyr had. And, unlike Manthyr, Thirsk was in a position of steadily
increasing
strength. It was unlikely a man like that, with the evidence of how well his captains had done at Dragon Island, wouldn’t be looking for ways to use that growing strength.

We should have brought more schooners
, Manthyr thought.
What I really need to do is to send a couple of dozen of them out to operate in dependently and raise Shanwei’s own mischief. Let them pounce on Dohlaran and Harchongese shipping in as many places as possible. That would force Thirsk to spread his galleons out, and he’d play hell running down any of the schooners. But I don’t have enough of them to be everywhere they’d need to be, which means he’s going to be able to cover his most important shipping in convoys, like he did at Dragon Island, and still free up the strength—if not now, soon enough—to try something a bit more offensive. And the only way I’m going to have the strength to stop him is going to be to keep my
own
galleons concentrated
.

He didn’t care for that conclusion. He was supposed to be whittling down the Church’s naval forces, and his new appreciation of the Dohlaran Navy’s combat worthiness was going to make that more difficult. He knew he’d already imposed a significant delay on the Dohlaran building program. He’d captured or sunk too many cannon- laden coasters and shipments of turpentine, pitch, spars, and every other variety of naval stores imaginable for any other result. And he was confident he could inflict still more delay, still more damage. But he was going to have to operate more defensively, and the less aggressive he could be, the less effective he was going to become.

And if Thirsk is willing to commit to offensive operations of his own, the first item on his list is going to be Trove Island
.
And even if Major Wyndayl’s Marines had enough heavy artillery to hold the anchorage forever—which they don’t—there’s a limit to how long a siege they could stand. If Thirsk has the galleon strength to drive us off, he could isolate the island with just a handful of old- style galleys. And if I don’t have the strength to break through and lift Wyndayl out, Thirsk will eventually starve him and his men into surrender, however willing to hold out they might be
.

He sighed as he admitted that.

Well, it’s not the end of the world, Gwylym
, he told himself philosophically.
Trove’s been convenient and useful as hell, but it’s not essential. You’ve got the transportsWyndayl arrived on, so it’s time you pulled him out and sent him back to Claw Island. That’s a lot more defensible, anyway, and by the time Thirsk starts getting any ambitious ideas about Claw, he’s going to be a hell of a long way from his
own
ports. And in the meantime, you can probably raise quite a bit of hell with the Harchongese
.

He nodded sharply, turned and walked to the cabin door. He opened it and poked his head out.

“Yes, Sir?” Lieutenant Rahzmahn said, looking up and then rising from his seat behind Manthyr’s desk, where he’d been working on the squadron’s accounts.

“I’ll want to meet with Pawal, Aiwain, Stywyrt, and Captain Mahgail after supper to night, Dahnyld,” Manthyr told him. “See to it that they’re informed, please. And I suppose you’d better warn Naiklos, too.”

HMS
Ahrmahk
, 58,

The Charis Sea,

and

HMS
Dawn Wind
, 54,

Carter’s Ocean

What do you think about Gwylym’s new plans, Merlin?” Bryahn Lock Island asked quietly.

At the moment, the high admiral was stretched out in his cot aboard HMS
Ahrmahk
, his fifty- eight- gun flagship. Given the normal sounds of a ship underway through six- foot seas, no one was likely to overhear him even if he spoke in a normal conversational tone. He had no intention of risking being wrong about that, however.

Merlin Athrawes, sitting on the stern galley of HMS
Dawn Wind
while he gazed out at the early dawn several thousand miles to the east, had no problem with that. He was just grateful Cayleb had made it a priority on his return to Tellesberg to bring Lock Island fully into the inner circle before the high admiral returned to his fleet at sea. For the moment, Lock Island—like everyone else immediately after being told the truth—was being compulsively cautious, which was a trait of which Merlin approved.

“I think they make a lot of sense under the circumstances,” he said now, in reply to the earl’s question.

“I have to admit I was a bit taken aback myself by how effective Raisahn -do’s squadron was,” he continued. “I don’t suppose I should’ve been—we’ve all been reminding ourselves for months that Thirsk is probably the most dangerous commander on the other side—but I was.” His lips quirked. “Maybe I’ve been a Charisian long enough to start suffering from that . . . exuberant self- confidence that makes you so universally beloved by every other navy.”

“ ‘Exuberant self- confidence,’ is it?” Lock Island snorted. “I think it’s a fair term,” Merlin responded, smiling at the rising sun. “Mind you, I never said it wasn’t justified. Normally, at least.”

“I only wish we could talk to Gwylym this way,” Lock Island said in a rather more fretful tone. “I’m beginning to realize how maddening it must have been for Domynyk to be able to talk to you and to Cayleb—to see Owl’s . . . ‘imagery’—” (he pronounced the still- unfamiliar word carefully) “and not be able to tell
me
about it. But with Gwylym that far out on the end of a limb . . . .”

He shook his head, and Merlin’s smile faded. “I know,” he sighed. “In fact, it was something we discussed—Domynyk and I—before Gwylym ever left. Unfortunately, we can only move so fast in bringing more people into the circle, and—”

He broke off with a shrug, and Lock Island nodded. “I won’t pretend I was happy to discover how long it took the Brethren to finally decide I was a sufficiently stalwart and trustworthy soul.” The high admiral’s lips twisted with wry humor. “At the same time, I can see why they might want to think about it for a bit before they start blabbing away about things like ‘spaceships’ and counterfeited religions. And, to be honest, I think it was probably a good idea to wait until Cayleb got home to tell me about it in person.” He snorted again, a bit more loudly. “At least he had the authority to sit on me if I started running around in circles like a wyvern with its head cut off!”

“That thought did pass through our minds,” Merlin acknowledged amiably.

“I’m sure,” Lock Island said. Then he paused for a moment, frowning. “In regards to that sort of decision,” he said slowly, then, “I’ve been thinking about Ahlfryd.”

“Don’t worry.” Merlin chuckled. “They’re planning on telling him as soon as he pays one of his visits to Tellesberg. The healers aren’t letting Sharleyan stir a step out of the palace until the baby’s born, and she’s determined
she’s
going to be the one to tell him!”

“That wasn’t my point,” Lock Island said even more slowly. He hesitated, like a man steeling himself to say something he didn’t want to, then continued anyway. “My point was that I don’t know if it would really be a good idea to tell him at all.”

Merlin blinked in astonishment. Despite the difference in their ranks, Baron Seamount was one of Lock Island’s personal friends. The high admiral had an even better appreciation than most for the sharp agility of Sir Ahlfryd Hyndryk’s mind. For that matter, if anyone in the entire Charisian Empire understood exactly how critical Seamount’s innovations had been, it had to be Lock Island. So why—?

“Are you afraid he won’t accept the truth about Langhorne and Bédard?” Merlin asked after a moment.

“You mean like Rayjhis and Green Mountain?” Lock Island shook his head. “Oh, no. That’s the least of my worries where Ahlfryd’s concerned!”

“Then may I ask why you have any reservations about telling him?”

“It’s just ....”

Lock Island paused again, obviously marshaling his own thoughts. “Look, Merlin,” he said then, “I’ve known Ahlfryd for the better part of thirty years. There’s not a man on the face of the world I’d trust more implicitly. And God knows I’ve never met anyone with a sharper brain! But there are actually three points I think need to be considered here.

“First, he’s producing new ideas faster than we can put them into production already. Not only that, he’s got his entire Experimental Board doing the same thing now, and all without knowing the truth or having access to all those . . . ‘computer records’ you’ve been talking about. I’ll admit, I still don’t really understand much about them, but my point is that Ahlfryd’s been forging ahead on the basis of the handful of hints you’ve already given him. As I understand it, your whole idea in the long run is for people to start thinking of these sorts of things for
themselves
, and Ahlfryd’s doing exactly that. Do we really need—or want—to divert him from stretching his own mind and the minds of people like Commander Mahndrayn into picking over someone else’s records for ideas?

“Second, I
do
know Ahlfryd. The instant he finds out he can have access to such advanced knowledge, he’s going to dive in headfirst, and we won’t see him again for months. He won’t be able to resist it any more than a drunkard could resist whiskey, Merlin, and you know it. We can probably come up with some sort of explanation for his sudden disappearance, but it’s going to be awkward. And, in the same vein, once he knows what
can
be done, he’ll move heaven and earth to
get
it done. I think there’s a real chance he might end up pushing ahead too quickly. You’ve been very careful about not openly violating the Proscriptions, but I have to believe restraining Ahlfryd, keeping him from doing something that would clearly represent a violation, may turn out to be harder than you think. And, conversely, if we avoid that, he’s going to be miserably unhappy knowing how much he
could
have done if only he’d been allowed to.