Assassin's Honor (9781561648207) (24 page)

If they hadn't done so, they would've collided with
Bennington
, which was now dead ahead of them and slowing down. Still, they might try to continue on their way, so I decided to lend some additional inducement, not to mention confusion, to their situation.

“Fire that gun again and hoist the signal!” I ordered Yeats.

Down on the main deck, Warfield was doing his bit in the charade, for as soon as we had slowed, our launch and whaleboats were in the water, and every available man was lined up along the deck rail, looking for Lieutenant Lambert.

As I expected, Captain Blau's crew were top-notch. It didn't take them long. Flags bloomed out from their masts.

“The Germans acknowledge and have a boat in the water, sir,” related Yeats. “And there is the Spanish acknowledgment, sir. They are putting a boat in the water too.”

“Is that Lambert?” called out Lieutenant Manning, standing there in his undergarments having rushed up from below. He pointed toward the east. No one could confirm his sighting.

“Mr. Yeats, I want to know from Mr. Angles if full steam can be gotten up and ready in all boilers, but I want the shafts still turning at slow ahead for right now. Also, left standard rudder—come to course zero-seven-zero.”

He acknowledged and repeated my order, then saw to it by calling into the speaking tube to Lieutenant Angles in the boiler room. The reply came seconds later.

“Mr. Angles reports the boilers are holding well at half steam and he sees no problems with having full steam in ten minutes, sir. He'll engage the gears when ordered.”

I checked my pocket watch. Ten minutes. Yes, that would work out well. It was almost time for Lambert's next action. And more confusion for the enemy.

“Mr. Yeats, please signal the other warships we have at least one man overboard and are declaring
Force Majeure
. Send a signal to
Reina Regente
to please have their boat search to the west, and signal
Gneisenau
to please have their boat search to the south. Inform them our boats will search to the east and north. Then add a thank you for their assistance.”

Force Majeure
was invocation of an ancient law of the sea—the right of any vessel to request and expect help from another ship due to a disaster. No warship would ever refuse to respond, unless at war with that country. Of course, no warship would ever invoke
Force Majeure
falsely to another country, unless at war.

In my judgment, saving Martí's life was worth my deception.

The scene around us had transformed considerably in the last few minutes. From the sight of three ships steaming bravely ahead into the wind and seas on a sunny afternoon off the
Florida coast, with the Germans and Spanish overtaking the American ship, the momentum had completely reversed. The foreigners were drifting downwind well to the south-southwest while
Bennington
was turning her bows back around to the northward. Our two boats were already in the area where I estimated Lambert would be, but not precisely where the signal said they would be.

All we needed was to know Lambert's exact location in the lead gray waves. The sun was lowering in a rapidly darkening sky, but enough light remained for Lambert's signal. And we had an hour after that until the sun disappeared entirely at five thirty.

Warfield showed up in the bridge and nodded toward the nearly deserted starboard bridge wing. I met him there and whispered, “You sure the coxswains know what to do?”

“Yes, sir. Get him in the boat quietly so the other ships can't see what's going on. No signals, no shouting. Then come back to us and get the boats hoisted up while
Bennington
's underway and increasing speed. They'll get it done.”

“Very well. Remember, the second those boat falls are hooked on, you've got to get them up because we're going to full speed very quickly.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The ship's bell was sounded once—extra strongly, just like Lieutenant Commander Warfield had quietly ordered the bosun of the watch a few minutes prior—to signify the first half hour of the first dog watch was completed. It needed to be louder than usual, so it could be heard far away from the ship.

Gulf Coast of Florida

Thursday

15 December 1892

“Deck there!” came an excited yell from the lookout aloft. “A flash of light just showed two points off the starboard bow, a hundred yards out!”

Ensign Yeats piped up while peering through a long glass, “There, I see it! Yes! I think that's Gideon!” He glanced at me, then quickly added, “I mean Lieutenant Lambert, sir. The launch is close by him. I think he's using a helio-reflector. I didn't even know he had one.”

He didn't. I'd given him mine. Turning my binoculars on the area, I saw two more flashes—fleeting reflections of the sinking sun—winking to us from the southeast. They were aimed right at
Bennington
and away from
Reina Regente
and
Gneisenau
, which were now almost two miles away to the south.

“Yes, I see him now too, Mr. Yeats. Well, I'll be, that was damn good thinking on Lambert's part. And he managed it just
in time to get back aboard for dinner.”

“Should we signal the other ships to discontinue the search, sir?”

Yeats loved to work out the complicated codes needed in flag messages. I answered in a calm paternal tone. “No. No signals just yet, Mr. Yeats. Let's make sure of the situation. Once Mr. Lambert's aboard and all is well, I will order a signal of thanks for the other ships.”

I then added, “Also, please notify Mr. Manning he will be standing Mr. Lambert's watch and will relieve you as soon as he can be ready. I want you to get down to the main deck and escort Mr. Lambert to the sickbay for examination once he gets aboard, and then make sure he get a fine dinner afterward. He'll need it after that little dip in the water.”

On a warship, when the captain says
as soon as one can be ready
it means
do it immediately
. Manning was due to relieve Lambert at the end of the two-hour first dog watch anyway, so coming on duty early wasn't that much of an inconvenience, and I wanted Yeats off the bridge, lest he pester me some more about signaling those other ships.

Lieutenant Manning showed up and properly relieved Ensign Yeats according to naval tradition, who dashed down the ladder to be there when the boat came alongside.

“Mr. Manning,” I said, “you now have the deck. Turn to course three-five-zero with all engines ahead slow. What is the steam report for the boilers?”

He checked the report from the previous hour and answered, “One hundred and forty pounds in all four boilers, sir. Mr. Angles reports no problems and all boilers are ready for maximum pressure and revolutions.”

“Very well, then the moment the forward boat falls are hooked and begin hoisting I want a steady increase in turns for sixteen knots on the course I just gave you. I will be in my cabin.”

If Manning was wondering why the ship wasn't waiting until
the boat was up and chocked before increasing speed, he didn't look or say it. He also didn't ask about signaling the other ships. Instead, he only gave the age-old reply, “Aye, aye, sir.”

Soon
Bennington
was charging north-northwestward along the coast at sixteen nautical miles per hour. The deck and topmen were setting up the main and mizzen topmasts, so soon all three masts would be ready to carry full sail to enhance our speed even further.

To the west, the sun was no longer a blazing white spotlight capable of reflecting off a heliograph, but a luminescent ripening mango in a dark blue and violet sky. To the east, a couple of dim lights showed eight miles off the starboard bow at the new phosphate dock on Gasparilla Island.

The Gulf of Mexico around us had turned gun-metal black, ruffled by a decreasing moderate breeze and waves from the northeast. A week earlier the men had been stripped to the waist in sweltering heat at Jamaica, but now we needed coats over our shirts in the cold air. Five miles to the south, red and green specks showed where
Gneisenau
and
Scharnhorst
were finally realizing the search had ended, but had yet to get their boats in and turn northward.

Warfield sat in the guest chair by my desk, looking decidedly pleased.

“Only our stern is toward the Germans and Spanish, and no lights are showing on deck or from ports, sir. Mr. Angles has Hammer Wilcox and his boiler men minimizing any sparks from the funnel. I told Angles it was a battle training exercise, as if we were at war with the foreigners behind us. He thought it an excellent idea.”

“And Lambert?”

“Giving heliograph lessons in the wardroom and enduring ribald jokes about his clumsiness. He's fine, sir.”

“The rig?”

“Should have all lowers and uppers set and drawing inside of ten minutes, sir. With all sail set on this close reach, I'd estimate
another knot or two in speed. We'll hold that reach until we get to Anna Maria Island, then take in sail as we turn northeast into Passage Key Channel. That's a narrow channel for us, sir. I've never taken a ship through there in the dark.”

“You're right, it'll be dicey—but I know the way. Learned it back during the war, going after the blockade-runners when they'd make a dash on moonless nights. The Germans and Spanish draw too much water. They'll have to enter the bay by the main North Channel, past Egmont Key. They'll also have to pick up a channel pilot. All that will add six more miles and much more time to their transit. And once they get near Tampa, they're too deep drafted to get up into the river to the docks in downtown. So they'll have to anchor a couple miles south, near Depot Key, out in Hillsborough Bay, and take a launch into shore.”

“I don't know the tidal situation there, sir, but if it's high, we can get up into the river.”

“Yes, if it's high, but I'm wondering now, what with this northerly wind. That'll lower the water levels.

“Well, if the tide does serve, I'm estimating we'll be at the waterfront in Tampa at three-forty five a.m., sir. Which dock will we use?”

“We'll use the government dock at the mouth of the Hillsborough River, right in in the middle of Tampa. That should either be unused, or we can raft alongside, if a Revenue Cutter Service cutter is already there. It's only a couple miles from Ybor, the town where Martí will be. I'll go ashore and fulfill the mission while you stay aboard.”

I let out a sigh and put my feet up on the desk, a gesture signifying the briefing was over and we could both relax. “And with any luck, we can warn Martí tomorrow and the men can have liberty tomorrow night. They have earned some fun ashore. So have you, John.”

Warfield took my cue and leaned back in his chair. “It has been a hectic week, sir. Never thought I'd be on this kind of
mission, especially in my own country.”

“I know what you mean. I thought I was done with espionage. Has there been any accurate conjecture among the officers or men?”

“Lots of silly rumors, but none the wiser on the facts, sir.” Warfield laughed. “So far, the main conjecture is about how lucky Lambert was, after being dumb enough to fall off the ship.”

I could just picture the good-natured heckling in the wardroom, but had no doubts the lieutenant would keep his mouth shut. “Oh yeah, that little anecdote will follow him for the rest of his career. I've had several to endure myself.”

A captain leads a solitary life, maintaining an authoritarian image constantly. It felt good having a number two I trusted enough to be able to let down my guard and relax, if only for a few minutes.

That's when a knocked sounded on my door, followed by the messenger's voice.

“Sir! Bridge messenger Carson with a report from Mr. Manning!”

“Enter,” I replied as both Warfield and I straightened up.

The boy presented the message. “Mr. Manning presents his respects, sir. He says a light has been seen flashing in code to the southwest, but it's not from either the Krau . . . I mean the German, or the Spanish, ships. He had Mr. Yeats called up to look at it and Mr. Yeats says it's in navy code, but it doesn't make any sense to Mr. Manning. So Mr. Manning requests your presence on the bridge, sir.”

Warfield and I glanced at each other, both perplexed.
Another
light signal? It must be a ship, but as far as we knew there were no other U.S. Navy ships anywhere north of Key West.

“Very well, Carson. My compliments to Mr. Manning. I'll be right there.”

When Warfield and I arrived, the bridge was crowded, for most of the wardroom had assembled upon hearing of this mystery and were busy with various theories regarding the
strange light message. That we'd been in a race with the Germans and Spanish was obvious to all, and now this new development was giving a more menacing connotation to the race. There may not have been conjecture in the wardroom before, as Warfield had reported, but there was plenty of speculation among the officers now.