Assassin's Honor (9781561648207) (11 page)

I quickly rose to my feet, not wishing for the steward to see me in such a sorry state, for I knew what would be around the ship in minutes:
I found the captain sprawled on the deck—he was either seasick or drunk, I don't know which
.

The Yucatán Channel was living up to its reputation.

Isla Cozumel, Mexico

Monday evening

12 December 1892

Lieutenant Commander Warfield's original estimate wasn't that far off, for we arrived at Cape Celarain, the southernmost point of Cozumel Island, in the dark at 8:35 p.m. The wind was still strong and had gone a bit westerly. The sky had grown completely overcast, with no stars in sight and occasional showers of rain. The land was a faintly darker line on the horizon several miles to the north. Having no landmark or star to fix our position, our location was only an approximation—most definitely not a comfortable situation for a ship captain on a strange coast.

Lieutenant Manning had the deck. I ordered him to get the ship hove to, with enough revolutions on the shaft to keep her bow into the waves and wind from the northwest, which had moderated somewhat by the proximity of the mainland in that direction. I was sure in the morning light we could get a better
bearing on the island to our north and thus fix our position precisely.

At precisely 11:12 p.m.—such things are recorded in men-o-war's logs—the duty messenger arrived at my cabin in inform me a ship was in sight off the port bow, about a mile west of us.

Thirty seconds later, I was on the rain- and wind-lashed bridge deck outside the wheel house, peering through the night glasses into the gloom. The other ship was barely discernable, fading in and out of sight, her running lights tiny pinpricks of red and green

“It's the Germans, Captain. So much for their Tampico story.” Gardiner came up beside me in the dark. His face was a mask, imparting no clue to his thoughts.

Seconds later, I heard confirmation from the poor soul assigned to the swaying main top. “Lookout to bridge! I think she's the German ship from Key West, sir!”

Manning was still on watch. “Any new orders, Captain?”

Like everyone aboard, he had surmised the reason we were in Mexico had something to do with the
Gneisenau
, just not what it was or why. Actually, I wasn't certain myself of what I would do next.

“Her captain's getting up more steam,” said Gardiner while looking through the glass.

“Yes, I agree, sir,” offered Manning to the executive officer. “She's bearing off to the west, toward the Mexican mainland. She's bigger than us, and can muscle through easier.”

I shook my head. “But she's square-rigged. We can steam-sail ahead easier with our fore and aft schooner rig, gentlemen, and thus fore-reach on her, especially on this point of wind.”

When she'd first arrived at Key West, I studied my reference material on
Gneisenau
's characteristics. They included an important point, which now became salient. In ONI's
Principal Characteristics of Foreign Ships of War
, it showed that while
Gneisenau
was a bigger ship with slightly larger caliber guns,
Bennington
had a much larger engine and two shafts to the Germans' one.

“Our steam plant is more powerful than hers, gentlemen. Mr. Manning, kindly set double-reefed fore and main sails, and have all engines ahead full.
Gneisenau
's top steaming speed is twelve knots and with all the windage aloft she'll be even slower, so I want shaft revolutions for fourteen knots to get close to her.”

Manning nodded excitedly. “Aye, aye, sir. Course?”

“Follow her course. Close to with half a mile astern of her, then conform to her speed. I do
not
want to lose her in the dark this time.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“They'll know we're following them if we're that close, sir,” Gardiner said, somewhat unnecessarily.

“I want them to know,” I replied.

“Bridge there!” shouted the lookout aloft. “Another ship is barely in sight, broad on the port bow, well beyond the German!”

I called for the officer of the deck. “Mr. Manning, who is aloft on lookout?”

“Able Seaman Benion, sir.”

Benion had been in the navy for seventeen years. Every time he'd worked his way up to a promotion, he lost it soon afterward to drunkenness, both afloat and ashore. I needed a better set of eyes up there. I noticed the junior officer of the watch examining the Germans from the port side of the bridge.

“Young sharp eyes are called for right now, Mr. Manning. Please send Ensign Yeats aloft with a night glass. I want a good description of the other ship.”

Ten minutes later it was delivered with a thump as Yeats jumped down to the deck from his climb. “Other ship is a steam collier, sir! Looks American to me and low in the water. She's bound westerly, a mile or so ahead of the German.”

I evaluated the new information. It was too soon for our collier to have arrived. How many colliers would there be on this remote coast? She was probably the ship the tardy German petty officer had mentioned to Annie Wenz at Key West. Both
the
Gneisenau
and the collier were bound to the west. Xel-ha and Dzul were in that direction. The ships would be there the following morning, the thirteenth of December—time was running out.

While Manning was busy getting the sails set, Gardiner leaned close to me and said, “With all due respect, Captain, we are now in Mexico's territorial waters, and openly chasing a warship of a major European power. May I ask if we have gone to a war status? The officers will want to know.”

He made his inquiry with a tone of curiosity, as if he were merely an observer to the whole affair, not a participant. I could just imagine the wheels turning inside his clever head, however.
He's already building his defense for the court-martial—and his testimony against me
.

“War? No, we are not at war,” I replied quietly. “But we must always be prepared for any eventuality, at any time, in the execution of our national policy. This is a warship, not a diplomat's yacht that looks pretty and cruises from cocktail party to cocktail party.”

“Thank you for the clarification, sir. This should turn out to be very interesting.”

It was. Through the night,
Gneisenau
slowed and followed directly astern of the merchant ship, matching the collier's slower speed of only five knots against the wind and waves.
Bennington
followed suit, so when the eastern sky finally lightened behind us, the ships were still in a column, a mile apart from each other, a few miles off the low mainland coast.

Dead ahead of the ships, a crumbling moldy-gray stone structure was silhouetted above the jungle, near a shallow inlet of sparkling jade-colored water, which curved around behind the beach. Illuminated by the first rays of the sun peeking through the clouds, it was an incongruous and slightly ominous sight. The chart confirmed we had reached our unusual destination: the ancient Mayan ruins of Xel-ha.

There was no harbor. One after another, the three vessels
let go their hooks just off the sandy beach in front of the ruins, in calm water formed by the lee of the Yucatán Peninsula. The primary ruins seemed to be some sort of a palace, built up from layers of squared-off terraces to a height of perhaps four stories. Around it was structure of several lower terrace elevations, and in the periphery were scattered several groupings of thatched huts. On the sandy beach a few canoes were pulled up, with locals milling around, staring at the modern warships suddenly intruding into their home.

The collier, whose name we could see was the
Marie
, of Portland, Maine, was closest inshore. The German cruiser anchored three hundred yards outboard of her, and we Americans were anchored outboard of the German by an equal distance.

I knew what was expected next. There are strict rules regarding the protocol between foreign warships. Breaching those rules is a dishonor not only to the other ship, but to the country. I had no wish to get diverted into a diplomatic dither over social graces on which Europeans, and Americans like Gardiner, place absurd value.

Fools have actually gone to war for such things.

Xel-ha Anchorage, Mexico

Tuesday morning

13 December 1892

In the situation we were facing, the latest ship to arrive—
Bennington
—sends a boat containing an officer to the existing naval occupants of the anchorage—
Gneisenau
—to render greetings and inquire as to the rank and the seniority within grade of her commanding officer, and also to provide the same information about their own captain. Upon receipt of the information, the officers of both navies would know who was senior, and thus the courtesies would begin. We were only minutes behind the Germans, but that mattered not—we were the new arrivals, and so our boat shoved off.

Many naval officers reveled in the pomp, having been inculcated in the stuff at the naval academy. Gardiner, naturally, was among them. I learned long ago to keep my opinions on the matter to myself, lest I ignite the zealous wrath of my brethren and even more accusations of not being enough of “a true naval
gentleman” by the blue water aristocracy. Yes, it is ridiculous, I know, but that is the way it is.

After the boat visit, Lieutenant Lambert reported back that FregattenKapitan Heinst Blau had been promoted to the German equivalent of commander on the twelfth of February, 1883. He thus had six months of seniority in rank on me and was the senior naval officer present in the anchorage. Lambert assumed a carefully bland expression as he presented this information, but a peripheral glance at Gardiner revealed a brief smile crossing his usually enigmatic face.

I gave the expected orders. “You may have the watch begin the usual professional courtesies, Mr. Lambert. And kindly inform our German colleagues I will visit
Gneisenau
and render my respects in one hour.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“See anything of note aboard her?”

“Yes, sir. One thing stuck out. When I went onboard, I noticed they had ready ammunition lockers opened and the gun covers cast off at the secondary batteries. I think they wanted me to see all that. The officer on the quarterdeck was polite, but not friendly.”

“To be expected,” commented Gardiner. “They are suspicious of our intentions.”

I ignored him and asked Lambert, “See any civilians onboard?”

“No, sir.”

“And what did you learn about the collier?”

“
Marie
is owned by the New York company of Strauss and Wilcox, sir. Needs maintenance, but not as bad as some I've seen. Captain Anson Wilson, commanding. Old and tired, with a drinker's nose and eyes, but appears to be professional. He says they arrived at the north end of Cozumel Island from Havana yesterday afternoon, looking for the German cruiser.
Marie
had been waiting for orders at Havana for three weeks, under charter to the German government through the consulate at La Guaira,
Venezuela. She's carrying a full load of eleven hundred tons of anthracite coal. They were supposed to fill
Gneisenau
's bunkers somewhere at Cozumel Island, then head off to Roatán up in Honduras to coal a couple German merchantmen waiting there.”

One may recall that three weeks earlier would have been around the time the packet steamer
Philadelphia
left La Guaira with Drake aboard. Several more ideas occurred to me just then, and Lambert was just the man to carry them out.

“Mr. Lambert, I have five additional tasks for you. First, please inform the duty watch to place the following order in the log. While we are at this place, I want all boats departing or arriving at
Gneisenau
observed closely but covertly, night and day, to see if there are any civilians among the boats' passengers.
Observe only
, Mr. Lambert. Notify me immediately when it is found to be the case. We will employ a guard boat at night, both for the purpose and, of course, to protect
Bennington
's men from the temptations of the shore.”