Read Online Stars & Stripes Triumphant by Harry Harrison - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harry Harrison
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boat drew away from the waiting cutter and headed their way. They had a quick glimpse of the pea-jacketed figure sitting in the stern, then saw no more, for the steward closed the curtains as the boat approached. There were voices on deck and the stamp of feet as the Count showed the pilot to the bridge and stayed with him there.
The pilot had gray hair and a scraggly beard; his clothing smelled strongly of fish. Unhappily, the bridge was too small for Korzhenevski to get far from the man. He closed the door and put his back against it. The pilot took a newspaper from his pocket and offered it to the Count. "Just arrived," he said. "Only two bob and it's yours."
Korzhenevski nodded and paid two shillings for the overpriced newspaper; he knew that this was a harmless bit of larceny that the pilots indulged in. Sailors who had been weeks at sea would be curious about recent events. Pocketing the coins, the pilot then peered through the front ports and turned to the helmsman.
"Don't get this ship above five knots," he said. The man ignored him.
"The helmsman, he don't speak English?" the pilot asked suspiciously.
"No more than you do Russian," the Count said, forcing himself to ignore the man's stupidity. "I will translate."
"Slow ahead. Five knots maximum speed. That's the East Margate buoy ahead. Keep it to port for the Princess Channel or we will be onto the Margate Sands."
The Count called down to the deckhands and they let go one end of the line through the eye of the buoy and pulled it aboard. Wilson in his role of deck officer pointed and tried to look as though he were in command. Gathering speed, the Aurora puffed slowly away from her mooring and out into the channel toward the mouth of the Thames.
The tide was on the ebb and the downstream current was very strong. The riverbanks moved slowly by; green fields on both sides, with the occasional village beyond them. When Wilson saw the turn in the river appearing ahead, he walked casually around the deck to position himself out of sight of the bridge.
The Count had been wrong; Coalhouse Fort was not deserted, but boasted a new battery of big guns. Wilson counted them and made a mental note.
Then they were coming up on Tilbury Fort and he gasped at the size of it. It was built on the spit of land just where the river narrowed, and it dominated the river—and could target any vessel coming upstream. It was star-shaped, with high, grim bastions looming above the water. Gun muzzles studded these defenses; more muzzles were visible behind the gunlines at the water's edge. Wilson stared at the fort until it vanished behind them, then stepped into the main cabin and opened his drawing pad. General Sherman lowered his binoculars and turned from the porthole.
"Impressive," he said.
"Disastrous," Wilson answered, quickly sketching in the lines of the fort. "Any ship, no matter how armored, will never get past her unharmed. I can truthfully say that as long as that fort is there, London is safe from any invasion by sea."
"Perhaps the fort could be taken from the land side."
"Hardly. There is an inner and an outer moat—with gun positions in between them, a redan as well, then the brick bastions of the fort itself. They can probably flood the marshland beyond if they have to. I would say that this fort is next to impregnable—except possibly by a long siege—"
"Which is of course out of the question," Sherman said, watching the outlines of the fort take shape on the paper. He touched the drawing, tapping the west gunline on the riverbank. "Twelve heavy guns here; I counted them. From the size of their muzzles they could be hundred-pounders."
Wilson was still hard at work on his drawings when the engine slowed then stopped. Aurora bumped lightly against the fenders of the seawall as they tied up. There were shouted commands and the sound of running feet on deck. The Count came in and went to Wilson to look at his drawings. "Most excellent," he said. "This voyage is
The pilot had gray hair and a scraggly beard; his clothing smelled strongly of fish. Unhappily, the bridge was too small for Korzhenevski to get far from the man. He closed the door and put his back against it. The pilot took a newspaper from his pocket and offered it to the Count. "Just arrived," he said. "Only two bob and it's yours."
Korzhenevski nodded and paid two shillings for the overpriced newspaper; he knew that this was a harmless bit of larceny that the pilots indulged in. Sailors who had been weeks at sea would be curious about recent events. Pocketing the coins, the pilot then peered through the front ports and turned to the helmsman.
"Don't get this ship above five knots," he said. The man ignored him.
"The helmsman, he don't speak English?" the pilot asked suspiciously.
"No more than you do Russian," the Count said, forcing himself to ignore the man's stupidity. "I will translate."
"Slow ahead. Five knots maximum speed. That's the East Margate buoy ahead. Keep it to port for the Princess Channel or we will be onto the Margate Sands."
The Count called down to the deckhands and they let go one end of the line through the eye of the buoy and pulled it aboard. Wilson in his role of deck officer pointed and tried to look as though he were in command. Gathering speed, the Aurora puffed slowly away from her mooring and out into the channel toward the mouth of the Thames.
The tide was on the ebb and the downstream current was very strong. The riverbanks moved slowly by; green fields on both sides, with the occasional village beyond them. When Wilson saw the turn in the river appearing ahead, he walked casually around the deck to position himself out of sight of the bridge.
The Count had been wrong; Coalhouse Fort was not deserted, but boasted a new battery of big guns. Wilson counted them and made a mental note.
Then they were coming up on Tilbury Fort and he gasped at the size of it. It was built on the spit of land just where the river narrowed, and it dominated the river—and could target any vessel coming upstream. It was star-shaped, with high, grim bastions looming above the water. Gun muzzles studded these defenses; more muzzles were visible behind the gunlines at the water's edge. Wilson stared at the fort until it vanished behind them, then stepped into the main cabin and opened his drawing pad. General Sherman lowered his binoculars and turned from the porthole.
"Impressive," he said.
"Disastrous," Wilson answered, quickly sketching in the lines of the fort. "Any ship, no matter how armored, will never get past her unharmed. I can truthfully say that as long as that fort is there, London is safe from any invasion by sea."
"Perhaps the fort could be taken from the land side."
"Hardly. There is an inner and an outer moat—with gun positions in between them, a redan as well, then the brick bastions of the fort itself. They can probably flood the marshland beyond if they have to. I would say that this fort is next to impregnable—except possibly by a long siege—"
"Which is of course out of the question," Sherman said, watching the outlines of the fort take shape on the paper. He touched the drawing, tapping the west gunline on the riverbank. "Twelve heavy guns here; I counted them. From the size of their muzzles they could be hundred-pounders."
Wilson was still hard at work on his drawings when the engine slowed then stopped. Aurora bumped lightly against the fenders of the seawall as they tied up. There were shouted commands and the sound of running feet on deck. The Count came in and went to Wilson to look at his drawings. "Most excellent," he said. "This voyage is
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