Down to the Sea by William R. Forstchen Read Free Book Online Page B

in office. Keane had vehemently argued against it, declaring that if the Kazan were so insistent that no one venture farther out, that must clearly indicate that they had something to hide, or worse, to conceal until such time as they wished to reveal it.
    Opinion in the navy was divided. Some, including Admiral Bullfinch, had declared that until such time as the Republic could truly muster a significant fleet, it was best to observe the agreement and to quietly build. But the building had been slow. The entire fleet still only numbered nine armored cruisers. Gettysburg was the newest, and three more sister ships were ready to be fully commissioned by the end of the summer.
    Thus it had come as a surprise to everyone on board when Gracchi announced, as soon as they had put to sea, that they had been issued secret orders directly from President Keane to sail beyond the line and, as he put it, “poke around a bit.”
    Gracchi lowered the glasses for a moment, examined the chart, grunted, then raised the glasses back up.
    A minute or more passed, Gracchi muttered to himself, as was his habit. Some in the crew thought it a clear sign that the old veteran was slipping. Cromwell had no opinion about it. A man of intelligence never passed opinions on captains, they simply obeyed and survived. Gracchi was the captain, and if he wished to mutter that was his right.
    Compared to some of the others in command, muttering was an idiosyncrasy Cromwell could deal with. He had heard the stories about Captain Feodor, who had been quietly removed from command after his crew reported that he had taken to climbing the rigging at night in order to talk to the saints. Then there was the infamous case of Captain Xing, who, after six months of cruising on a survey mission, without once hailing another ship or sighting land, had simply pulled out a revolver, blew out the brains of his first lieutenant and chief petty officer, then flung himself over the railing, where the sharks which always trailed the ships, made quick work of him.
    Command created a certain level of madness at times in the fleet, and Gracchi’s muttering, if it went no further, was nothing. Besides, Gracchi was one of the survivors of the Great War, and for that alone he deserved respect.
    “That’s a city burning,” Gracchi finally announced, lowering his glasses to look at Cromwell. “Seen it more than once back in the war.” He sighed, shaking his head. “The other flashes…I’d say it’s a fight, one hell of a fight.” Cromwell, having learned from the beginning of life that when unsure it was best not to speak, remained silent.
    Gracchi looked off absently. “We’ve come out here to scout around a bit, Mr. Cromwell, and I think we’ve found something. I take it you’ve heard the rumors about what that merchant ship, the Saint Gregorius, claimed it found.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Everyone had heard. It had been the hottest topic of conversation ever since Gracchi had spoken to the crew about their mission.
    “Well, son, I think we’ve found another city getting sacked. I can feel it. You can almost smell it.
    “I think we’ve stumbled into a war. After all these years we’ve finally found them.
    “Mr. Cromwell, I suggest we beat to quarters. Roust out the chief engineer yourself and tell him to fire up the boilers. I want a full head of steam if we need to maneuver. Get the sailing master while you’re at it. Have him draw in all sails. We’ll run on steam alone.”
    Gracchi began heading back to his cabin, then turned. “And damn it, boy, have someone get me some tea.”
    Cromwell saluted.
    The armored cruiser Gettysburg was a sleeping ship on this, the midnight watch. The only ones topside were the bridge crew, lookouts, and the watch officer.
    Within seconds all that changed. Cromwell shouted for the petty officer to pass the word to beat to quarters. The petty officer raced aft, leaping down the gangway to the main gun deck below, while Cromwell went