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Authors: Steven Wilson

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“Yes,” Hawthorne said, digesting the information. “Yes. That's it.”

“Get back to the admiralty,” Bimble said, taking him by the elbow and guiding him toward the back door. “Contact Scapa Flow and have them alert the Home Fleet. I'll be in as soon as I rinse off this grime and change.” He shoved Hawthorne through the door. “Hurry, man. I'll be right behind you.” Bimble shook his head at the possibilities. A complex plan: back
Prince of Wales
and the prime minister, and throw in the Home Fleet as well. Why not? Use
Prince of Wales
as the stalking goat and when the snare is sprung, destroy her as well. The damned, efficient Germans. He saw the rabbit venture tentatively across the stone pathway. “All right,” Bimble said. “You can stay, you bloody hare. I suppose I owe you that much.”

H.M.S.
Firedancer

The bo'sun's whistle and alarm bell had sent
Firedancer
's crew dashing for their action stations as the destroyer sliced through the North Atlantic, spray exploding over the bows and whipping around A Turret. They pounded down ladders and along passageways, emerging from the confines of the vessel to slap Kelly helmets on their heads and take up position. Excitement charged through the ship, men racing about, shouting directions and orders; warrant officers, chief petty officers, and petty officers cursing the men: faster, faster. The crews of the 4.5-inch guns pulled the tampions that protected the barrels from saltwater spray out of the muzzles, opened the doors for the ready-access magazines located in the front of the turret, and removed the canvas coverings from the breach mechanisms. The rear of the turrets were open, the men unprotected. In reality it made no difference because the turret shields did nothing more than partially protect the men from the cold wind. It was too thin to stop splinters, and if they were unlucky enough to be hit by a shell of any size the whole thing would disintegrate. She was not
Sea Lion
, and her turrets did not weigh one thousand tons each.

Firedancer
bit into the waves playfully as if she had been too long under restraint and now given her head and was pleased at the ability to run. Her bow came up and with it a taste of North Sea as she flung high into the air in a moment of pure joy. Down her bow went again for another gulp and all the time men raced about her preparing for battle. This was not
Firedancer
's concernâshe was at full speed and that seldom happened in her voyages. She was either tied to plodding merchant ships in cumbersome convoys or forced to sail under two boilers instead of all three because fuel was low or she had too far to travel or one of her boilers needed replacement and it could not be counted on to perform. Now, now was a different matter entirely.
Firedancer
's captain had finally come to his senses and unleashed her, given her her head so that she could stretch out; screws driving hard, bow slicing cleanly, engines humming contentedly.

Cole saw the other British vessels clearly now. No need for binocularsâthey were close enough now for him to make out details. The cruiser was in plain sight, larger than the othersâthe destroyers that hovered just beyond
Prometheus
âbut still a pitifully small ship. She was a light cruiser all right, strikingly similar to the light cruisers that he had seen tied up at Norfolk. They were fast, lightly armored, lightly gunnedâa compromise between a heavy cruiser that stood at least a fighting chance with a capital ship and a destroyer that stood no chance at all. She was a compromise vesselâgiving up armor and armament so that her speed would take her well clear of danger. But this was to be a fight and she would have no choice but to engage the enemy, however uneven the odds might be.

He glanced around the bridge, careful to keep to his corner of the tiny area. Hardy was almost taciturn, giving orders minimally, doling out the words as if they were rationed to him. His temper exploded once or twice; once when he called for more revolutions from the engines and once when he was asked if
Prometheus
had signaled them yet.

“Just now, sir,” the yeoman of signals had replied.

“Well, goddamn it,” Hardy had flared. “What is it? Do I have to call for messages before they are given to me?”

“Message from
Prometheus
, sir,” Dove had returned calmly, used to his captain's outbursts. “âGlad to see you could join the party, signed,
Prometheus
.' Any reply, sir?”

“Reply,” Hardy exploded, directing his frustration toward Land. “Reply, Number One! Party. He's talking as if I'm late again. Well, by God, I'll have him know that we're not late. You tell that . . .” He reconsidered and pinned Dove with a glare. “Make to
Prometheus
,” he said, gritting his teeth, “âI have brought the champagne. Trust you have not neglected to invite the guest of honor. Signed,
Firedancer
.' Ha!” he said and then turned to Land. “Ha, Number One. Guest of honor. I'll warrant that will send that pompous ass around the bend.”

“Right you are, sir,” Land said, peering through a pair of binoculars. “I think I have the guest in sight, just now.”

Cole, holding tightly to the binoculars that Land had given him earlier just in case someone claimed them, searched the horizon.

“Four points off the starboard bow,” Land said calmly.

“Jesus!” a lookout above him said. “She's a whole country unto herself.”

“Belay that talk, Taffy,” a petty officer said. “You sound like a bloody Hostilities Only. Now give it to the officers quick and give it to them right.”

“Green twenty. Green twenty,” Taffy said. “Enemy vessel in sight. Unable to determine range or speed, sir.”

Cole found her in his lens. “Holy shit,” he said. “That is a big son of a bitch.”

The petty officer eased next to him. “Begging your pardon, sir, but that sort of talk sends the wrong message to the boys.”

“My apologies, Petty Officer,” Cole said.

The seaman had just turned away when he added: “But she is the biggest fucking ship that I've ever seen, if you pardon the observation, sir.”

“Message from
Prometheus
, sir,” Dove said. “âTake station two miles off my starboard quarter. We shall move in, in unison, and engage. End message.'”

“Well, that's the first sensible thing that I've known Sir Whittlesey to say in years. Make to
Prometheus
, âMessage received and acknowledged.' Well, Mr. Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “what do you think of our chances?”

“I think it would be wise to shoot and scoot, Captain Hardy.”

“Shoot and scoot?”

“Run in quickly, launch your torpedoes. Then get the hell away from her before she can target you.”

“Oh, that won't do, Mr. Cole,” Hardy said. “
Prince of Wales
is just over the horizon.
Sea Lion
can go through us like shit through a goose. We shall have to do more than that, I'm afraid. What, exactly, I'm not certain.” He took a deep breath and resumed his watch. “Perhaps we can slip in and irritate the great ship, eh, Number One?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way, sir,” Land said.

Chapter 28

D.K.M.
Sea Lion
, Quadrant XC 38

Kadow, standing next to the communication's bank in the conning tower, hung up the telephone.

“Foremast lookout reports that the enemy ships appear to be deploying for action. Hydrophone and radar report no other ships in the vicinity.”

“But
Prince of Wales
is just beyond them,” Mahlberg said, peering through the slits cut into the sixteen-inch steel walls of the conning tower. It was a small circular room, heavily armored, cramped; from which the
Kapitan
and a few men could direct the actions of
Sea Lion
during battle. It was a relatively safe place to be, as only a direct or very close hit could destroy it, but Mahlberg had to observe the action through those strategically placed tiny openings. He could control the engines, the steering, and communicate to any part of the ship from the round, steel citadel. But Mahlberg preferred to be on the bridge.

The telephone rang again and Kadow answered it. After a moment he reported to Mahlberg: “Foremast reports cruiser bearing two-six-two, one destroyer to her starboard, two to port. Distance, approximately seventy kilometers and closing.”

“Come to two-seven-oh,” Mahlberg said. “That's the only variation these gnats will wring from me. Inform Frey that he may engage his main battery when the enemy is within range.”

The blast of the alarm bell filled Bruno and called the crew of number-one gun to action.

Statz heard the rumble of shells coming up the hoist and watched as Steiner extended and locked the spanning tray into position. Manthey opened the hoist door and the blunt nose of the one-ton shell slid onto the spanning tray, anxious to be employed. As the door closed, Statz signaled Wurst, who activated the rammer, pushing the shell gently but resolutely into the gun breech until the locking ring settled snugly into the barrel.

At the same time Scholtz pulled hard on the gray lever that rolled open the barrel-shaped doors that led to the powder hoist. The two silk bags that fell onto the spanning tray were immediately guided into the breech by the rammer. Three more silk bags followed before Statz closed the breach and signaled to Gran. The gun was ready.

The loudspeaker above them crackled to life.

“Sailors of
Sea Lion
. This is your
Kapitan
. We are about to engage an enemy light cruiser and three destroyers, the only defense that the British have managed to throw up between us and
Prince of Wales
.”

The men smiled at one another. What they would do to those tiny ships!

“We will rush through this pitiful force,” Mahlberg continued, “and sink
Prince of Wales
. We will achieve a great victory for the Fatherland and avenge our brothers who perished on
Bismarck
.”

Statz bowed his head and said a short prayer. He had known and trained with some of the gunners on
Bismarck
. Only luck, and the Kriegsmarine's unfathomable system of ship assignments, had kept him off the doomed vessel.

“We sail aboard the greatest warship ever built,” the
Kapitan
continued. “Our guns shoot farther, our vessel is faster, and our men are better trained than any that have sailed before us. Even our name denotes our power. We are the Lion of the Seas.”

Just as Mahlberg finished and the loudspeaker crackled off, there was a sharp clang and distant rumble as the turret gear was engaged and the turret began to move. At the same time Statz heard the pump motors engage and the wild hiss of hydraulic fluid being released so that the gun's heavy breech slowly dropped, and her muzzle began to elevate.

Statz felt pride overwhelm him as the turret trained and the guns laid in a beautiful choreography of destruction. He dared not look at the others because he was the gun captain and must remain professional at all times; but think of it! Feel the movement of the turret and the majesty of the gun as it sought out its enemy, and how could a man not know that he was a part of something so powerful and awe-inspiring that God himself must have had a hand in making it?

“Starboard thirty,” Hardy ordered the helmsman in response to orders from
Prometheus
.

Cole felt the tension rising as Hardy concentrated on the scene unfolding before him. The captain dropped the binoculars from his eyes only long enough to bark an order.

“
Prometheus
wants us to go end around,” Hardy said. “She'll have
Eskimo
and
Windsor
make smoke for her and then God only knows what Sir Whittlesey has up his sleeve. If he thinks that
Sea Lion
is going to be unnerved by
Firedancer
's presence, he is being highly optimistic.”

Cole spotted
Eskimo
and
Windsor
turning hard to starboard. Suddenly black smoke began belching from their stacks. The engine room had been ordered to dump extra fuel oil into the burnersâthey were making smoke to shield
Prometheus
's move.

“There's the smoke,” Cole said.

“Yes. Lovely pattern at that,” Hardy noted professionally. “Let's hope the wind helps out. Keeping a sharp eye on Sir Whittlesey, Number One?”

“Yes, sir,” Land said. “Nothing yet.” Hardy wanted both Land and Dove to watch the flagship for signalsâless danger of missing any of Sir Whittlesey's pearls of wisdom.

“Message from
Prometheus
,” Dove called. “âYou will demonstrate with vigor at the enemy's stern.' End message.”

“Acknowledged and received, Dove,” Hardy said in what Cole thought was a surprisingly calm manner. No explosions, no denunciationsâvery cool and professional. “Number One, I shall want the port engine up twenty revolutions and starboard fifteen on the wheel.”

“Yes, sir,” Land said, giving the commands to the helmsman and engine room.

“Any sea duty with the navy, Mr. Cole?” Hardy asked.

“A flush-deck destroyer,” Cole said, trying to watch everything.

“The old four stackers. First war vintage. What was your station?”

“Gunnery officer,” Cole said as he saw
Prometheus
turn hard to port. She was going to come in under the smoke that the destroyers were laying but from a different course than
Sea Lion
had observed her. Not much of a surprise to the enemy vessel but the only one that
Prometheus
had.

“Guns, were you?” Hardy said. “I'll have the wheel amidships, Number One, and starboard engines up twenty.”

“Twenty millimeters aft of the well deck,” Cole said, focusing on the German ship. He dropped the binoculars and rubbed his eyes roughly. They were starting to feel the strain. “Seconded as the torpedo officer.”

“
Windsor
and
Eskimo
are just now pulling to starboard, sir,” Land noted.

Hardy acknowledged the observation with a grunt. “
Prometheus
will cross
Sea Lion
's bow, drawing fire, no doubt. He'll send
Eskimo
and
Windsor
in with torpedoes. Nicely done, Sir Whittlesey. All of this is textbook, Cole,” Hardy said. “Until the shooting starts.”

Cole swung his binoculars back to
Sea Lion
. There was an incredible flash that nearly covered her forward area and then a great mass of oily black smoke. Before he could say anything, Land shouted: “
Sea Lion
's firing. A and B Turrets.” Cole turned his head to one side, the only way to see shells in flight, an old gunner had told him. Look out of the corner of your eye, don't look directly for them, and you'll be able to catch them as they head for their target. Now, of course, the gunner told him wryly, if you're the target, you'll get a real close look at them anyway.

“Thank you, Number One,” Hardy said with some irritation. “I am perfectly aware of this latest development.”

Cole began calculating, his mind frantically working the puzzleâ
fifteen-inch shells can travel 25,000 yards in fifty seconds. But these are sixteen-inch shells and I have no idea how far away they are. How many thousands of yards separate
Sea Lion
from
Prometheus
? Speed.
Sea Lion
's eating up the distance at twenty yards a second and
Prometheus
is closing as well but with an angle of deflection. What happens when one of those shells strikes
Prometheus
? What about two shells? Not this quickly, they can't find the range this quickly.

“The ball has started, Mr. Cole,” Hardy said grimly, “and we are hardly dressed yet.”

“Hits,” Land said. “Beyond the destroyers. My God, those columns must be a hundred feet tall. It's high explosives all right. Their fall is over by a thousand yards.”

The telephone next to Cole's shoulder jangled urgently as the thunderous sound of
Sea Lion
's guns reached
Firedancer
. Cole jumped at the sound of the telephone and then cursed softly at his own nervousness.

“Masthead reports, Captain,” Land said with the receiver in his hand. “X Turret is training on us.” It would have been Doraâthe British were unimaginative in designating their turrets. Instead of Anton and Bruno forward, and Caesar and Dora aft, it was A, B and X, Y. The name was of little consequence; the fact that
Sea Lion
had singled
Firedancer
out as a recipient for upwards of six tons of high explosives was a matter of some concern.

Hardy flipped open the voice tube cover to the wheelhouse. “Quartermaster, Bridge. Port thirty and make it lively.”

“Masthead reports,” Land said. “Y Turret is training on us.”

“Has she reduced her speed?” Hardy said.

“No, sir,” Cole threw in. “She hasn't backed down an ounce.”

“Thank you for that report, Mr. Cole,” Hardy said. “You may now consider yourself a member of the crew.”

“She'll have a hard time judging our speed and course,” Land said, joining them.

“All she need do is get close with those big monsters and our speed and course will be the least of our worries,” Hardy said.

“There's another salvo, sir,” Cole said as
Sea Lion
flashed brilliantly. She was trying to knock out the destroyers.
Windsor
and
Eskimo
were just separating to launch a torpedo attack and they made just as enticing a target as
Prometheus
. And if one or both of the destroyers were disabled,
Prometheus
could not call on them for smoke and she could not return to the smoke that they had just lain down, because the oily plumes that had obscured her position were dissipating.
Prometheus
would have nowhere to hide from
Sea Lion
.