Rurik's War III

[SunScream]

See. I told you it was imminent :)

I really think I ought to name our chief engineer, navigator and doctor. Any suitable Russian noble/high class names will be considered. Submit your choices now!



Ok, on with the story.

[SunScream]

It was no trip round the bay.
"The Captain came aboard with orders earlier. You will never guess what they are", said the Chief Engineer over the noise of the fans as they forced air into the boiler room.
"We bombard Tokyo? Or is it something a little less ambitious, we escort battleships on a daring mission to mine around the Elliots?", Ivanov dug around in his pocket for a match.
"Not even close. We are to travel with the Fast Battle Squadron to...", the engineer took his cap off and held it out in front of him with a flourish, "Vladivostock!"
"But we only just got here."
"I too am yet to feel homesick, but back we go."
"I thought we were to assist Diana in protecting the harbour flotilla. I thought we were the heavy support when they go out mining."
"Admiral Stark believes that role is now too dangerous." The engineer stared thoughtfully at the engine room pressure gauges. "There is reason to believe that the Japanese will no longer use their cruisers as pickets, but use battleships."
"Divide their force? That sounds very unlike them."
The engineer leaned over to Ivanov. "Prince Uhtomski arrived from Moscow last week", he said carefully. "Although the Admiral still controls the fleet he may be being... guided... by the Prince."
Ivanov stared straight ahead. "It must be hard to ignore suggestions from a Crown Prince."
"Yes. So our intended role has disappeared, and now we head for Vladivostock along with the Fast Battle Squadron. Hopefully the battleships can be used to ambush the Asama group the same way as they did the Chitose. That will free us to roam the shipping lanes with impunity."
"It's a much bigger stretch of ocean", observed Ivanov. "They can't just sally forth from the harbour and straight into the picketing force like they can here. The Japanese rarely enter Amur Bay, even in pursuit."
"I imagine the Admiral is aware of that. However, it also means the Fast Battle Squadron is away from the Prince's influence, even if it is only temporarily."
"It will not leave much here."
"If the Admiral loses control, do you think that will matter? The slow division will not go out as it cannot run away from the Japanese, the same for the small ship flotilla. Tsessarevitch and Bayan can't fight until repaired."
"It doesn't sound good."
The engineer rapped the pressure gauges and shook his head. "What are they doing in number two boiler room? Have they downed tools? I will have to see what is happening."
Ivanov examined a gauge and tapped it gently as the engineer headed for the engine room ladder. "Does it help if you hit them?"
"Sometime I feel like flogging the lot of them", called back the engineer. "Oh, you mean the gauges. Yes, they stick occasionally."
Ivanov followed him up the ladder. "You probably need to oil the boilers again."
The engineer shook his head. "Ivanov, we will never make an engineer of you. Any competent engineer knows you grease boilers, not oil them."

Shortly after dark Rurik and the battleships slipped their moorings and crawled through the swept channel. Once the pilot had been dropped off the four ships increased speed into the night.
Ivanov stepped into the charthouse just before eight bells. Drizzle ran down the windows. The only illumination was the gentle light from the binnacle, and that was partially obscured by the helmsman. Ivanov nodded to the dim shape of the Navigator who was standing at the chart table.
"Good evening, Ivanov. Our course is one-seven-seven, speed sixteen knots. Lookouts are in standard night positions. It is all quiet so far, nothing sighted, thank God. WeiHaiWei is to starboard, but you can't see it in this murk. We need to alter course to one-nine-two degrees at three-thirty. Our battleships are behind us, though I have not seen them for some time. The Captain went below an hour ago."
"Any hazards or defects I should know about?"
"Nothing more than watching out for the Japanese. If my navigation is seriously out you may find WeiHaiWei coming at you dead ahead, in which case a sharp turn to port may be beneficial."
Ivanov peered out of the window. "The whole enemy fleet could be two thousand yards off and we would never know anything about it."
"I hope it stays that way", said the Navigator fervently. "Can you imagine the visibility improving and seeing a line of twelve and six inch guns all aimed at you? The Captain did not like the idea of leaving at night either. You just can't tell what is happening close by. In my opinion if you see a fight break out astern, where the battleships are, you should just clap on all speed and run. Rurik will not make any difference to the outcome."
Below them was the sound of the crew moving about and the faint ting-ting as eight bells struck. Someone shouted "Roll call!"

Daybreak saw the sea empty of ships except the Fast Battle Squadron a few miles astern.
Rurik had developed an uneasy motion during the night, rolling heavily in a disturbed swell coming in from the Pacific. The battleships also looked uncomfortable, particularly Retvizan.
Ivanov watched his tea cup slither over the table, catching it just before it struck the ridge at the edge. Circular patches of sunlight wandered across floor, furnishings and walls.
The chief engineer appeared at the wardroom door. “Good morning! I see we survived the night.” Propelled by the slope of the deck he crossed the room and seated himself in a chair.
“There is still a long way to go. I am not sure this whole exercise is a good idea”, said Ivanov, pouring tea.
The engineer shook his head. “Have you been listening to our esteemed navigator again? I think he believes our cause is already lost.”
“I do get that impression. He becomes more maudlin as the weeks go by.”
“I heard he lost a brother when the Boyarin blew up.”
“Yes. He talks about him a lot, they were close, and he has had mail from him since the Boyarin was destroyed. It must be unnerving to have correspondence arrive from someone already dead.”
Both sat there lost in thought for a while.
“So, where are we now?”, asked the engineer, “I know we are doing fifteen knots but I am not quite sure of our position.”
“The Assan Basin is due east, and not too far off, either. We are heading into the area the Japanese are using to ferry materiel into Chemulpo. It would be nice to run into a big fat merchantman heading the other way. Give the battleships a chance to fire at something that doesn’t shoot back much.”
“Just as long as we don’t run in to Togo. They can chase us from here to Vladivostock if they are so inclined. I doubt they would pass up the chance, and I would hate one of us to suffer an engineering casualty due to running at full speed for too long.”
“Are our boilers clean?”
“Oh yes. This low speed means I can take one out of service for maintenance. The only real problem is the engines themselves, which were worn before the war started. I am always surprised we get the speed we do out of them. And before you ask, I can get the stripped down boiler back in service and boiling away nicely within three hours.”

It was late afternoon when they sighted a ship. The sun was approaching the horizon, the ships casting long spiky shadows over the now calm sea. Rurik’s motion had settled down, especially since a pair of small staysails had been set, which had damped the ship’s roll and even allowed the engine revolutions to be reduced without loss of speed, much to the amazement of the engineering branch. Rurik’s sails rarely had an airing.
Ivanov hurried out of his cabin at the alarm and shouts of “Action stations!.” Hurrying forward, gun crews and ammunition handlers occasionally impeding his way, he tried in vain to spot the cause of the commotion but the low sun blinded his attempts to find anything. Rurik began to heel into a starboard turn as he climbed the ladder to the charthouse. Above, the sails rumbled and banged as they were headed by the wind. The Captain was already there.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ivanov. We appear to have found something big and helpless.”
Rurik was turning towards the glare of the sun. Silhouetted against the bright background was a large merchant.
“Flagship is signalling, sir. Investigate the contact.”
“Acknowledge.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Ivanov, get those sails down and find out how quickly we can have full speed. I don’t want an enemy to escape us with the commodore watching.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Ivanov bolted for the ladder.

[SunScream]

“Fifteen minutes. We were about finished when I went off watch and my assistant is a good man, as long as you keep an eye on him. Bolt the shield plating back in place and get firing and we are ready to go. Fancy a turn with a shovel?”
“I don’t think I am dressed for it,” said Ivanov, hastily.
They went through the airlock and down the ladder to the aft boiler room. Ivanov was surprised to see all four boilers rumbling away as stokers busily shovelled coal into the fire boxes.
The assistant engineer wiped his hands and saluted the officers.
“Boiler maintenance completed and firing is underway, sir. Pressure is rising with no problems. The engines are using a lot of steam so I will have to start drawing some off soon.”
“Well done, Kitkin. Did you have any trouble with the aft baffle plate?”
“No sir. It was a straightforward reassembly. The buckling on the aft baffle made no difference at all.”
Ivanov excused himself as the engineering branch launched into a technical conversation regarding boiler maintenance and repair. He quickly made the weather deck and headed back to the bridge. The sun’s glare was no longer in his eyes as Rurik was now up sun from the merchant ship and heading down towards the fleeing enemy vessel. Guns tracked their target, awaiting the command to fire. The range cannot have been much beyond two thousand. There was definitely movement on the enemy’s deck but he could not make out quite what it was. Something blue.
“Sir, boiler repairs are complete and we will have full power in less than half an hour. Sails are being furled. I intend to gammon them so they can be utilised at a moments notice.”
“Very good, Mr Ivanov. I doubt we will need the sails though. My grandfather used to use them a lot in his ship, but then he had very inefficient atmospheric engines.”
“Sir, enemy has broken out a Japanese flag,” called the port lookout.
Ivanov took station on the starboard wing. The view was good as the Japanese merchant was still ahead, upper works shining in the setting sun. Rurik must look like a huge, threatening black shape against the sun’s glare. As Rurik drew ahead Ivanov could see the blueness on the merchant again, in the well deck. He quickly raised his binoculars and saw row upon row of troops, each holding a rifle. The view closed up again as the target turned away from the cruiser.
“Sir, there are soldiers on the enemy’s well deck. He is a troop transport.”
“Hmm. Let’s see if we can force him to surrender. Put a shot across his bows.”
A brief pause as the order was relayed to a six-pounder gun and then a sharp report as the gun fired. The shell landed well ahead of the transport, but the flag with its rayed circle remained stubbornly at the masthead.
The troop transport turned towards Rurik to avoid converging with the line of battleships.
“We will maintain our distance. Put another shot across his bows.”
With the two ships sailing parallel fifteen hundred yards apart the troops could clearly be seen. Occasional puffs of smoke rose from the ranks as they fired at Rurik but the range was extreme and it was doubtful if the cruiser was even hit. The shot across the bows was ignored.
“A salvo into him may make him change his mind.”
The troopship vanished briefly behind a curtain of six inch shell splashes. Gunners reloaded busily then stood back from the guns as they finished the job. Gun captains stood with one hand raised and the other on the firing lanyard awaiting the signal to fire again.
“Shoot!”
There was a brief pause as the gunners waited for their sights to come on then they tugged their lanyards as one. Cordite smoke streamed downwind and shell splashes rose up around the target. Woodwork burst asunder as the ship was hit, splinters scything through the ranks of bluejackets arrayed around the deck. Again the crews reloaded and awaited the order to fire.
The Captain frowned, well aware the battleships were watching his every move.
“If he will not surrender, we will finish him off. Gun crews fire at will.”
An eight inch gun bit deep into the enemy with its first shot. Smoke began to stream from the hole in the ship’s side and even more poured from the funnel. Something was burning, deep within the troop transport and the speed immediately began to fall off.

After a ten minute cannonade the transport was a wreck. The troops were either down on the deck or in the water. Down by the stern, listing heavily and ablaze amidships and aft, there was no chance of survival. Rurik’s guns had stitched a row of holes into the waterline and these were all submerged, occasionally marked with brief whirlpools as the sea invaded the interior.
“Cease fire. All stop. Away boats. Let’s pick up survivors.”
Ivanov found himself commanding the cutter. Rurik’s motion made the descent to the sea uncomfortable, but once they had cast off the crew pulled away from the cruiser and into her wind shadow and a patch of glassy sea. All around them was the stink of salt, cordite and burning. Debris floated by but every Japanese soldier or sailor they approached refused to be rescued. Most screamed unintelligible insults at their would be rescuers and turned to swim away. The few that Ivanov approached directly disappeared beneath the surface before the cutter could get there. Although the crew shipped their oars and peered over the side there was no sign of the Japanese and none came to the surface as they moved away..
In the distance there was a rumbling noise and the troopship’s stern rose out of the sea, hung for a few moments then slid into the boiling water until it vanished from view.
Ivanov headed for the site of the sinking. He stopped a short distance away, well aware that debris could shoot to the surface and cleave the boat in two without warning. All around, the other rescue boats were closing in on him. As they neared it was clear that none had any prisoners aboard.
“It’s as if they don’t want to be rescued, sir!” The midshipman commanding a whaler seemed incredulous.
“Keep looking, Mister. Hopefully we will find someone who would prefer our hospitality.”
For the next half an hour the rescue boats searched for survivors without success. Eventually there was a bang from Rurik as the signal gun sounded the recall. As the boats returned to the cruiser one of the cutter’s oarsmen spotted a figure in the water, waving. It took only a few moments to get the boat alongside the soldier struggling in the water. The man was pulled limply aboard, filthy with oil and coal dust. He slumped into the bottom of the boat by Ivanov and lay there gasping for breath. The crew pulled at their oars and the cutter headed back to Rurik.
It was only a short trip back to the slowly moving cruiser. The battleships had overtaken Rurik and carried on their journey without slowing, the menace of Togo’s battle squadron was never to be dismissed. As the cutter’s crew was busy reconnecting to the falls Ivanov was startled when a screaming face rose up out of the depths of the boat and his head was jerked back as a forearm smashed against his chin. He nearly went backwards over the side, but the hands around his throat both saved and threatened him at the same time. There were shouts of alarm, the boat wobbled violently and a boat hook struck the Japanese soldier hard on the head. The grip on his throat slackened as the soldier was bundled into the water. Friendly arms steadied Ivanov, got him seated on a thwart.
“Are you alright sir? Did he get you with his knife?”
“Knife? What knife? I’m alright. Where is he?”
There was no sign of the soldier, just his knife, stuck point first into the bottom boards. Ivanov decided that the Japanese were all mad, without exception.

“I’m fine Doctor, there is no need to fuss,” Ivanov insisted as the doctor inspected his lower lip, which was bruising up nicely.
“Hmm. You could be right. Honestly, this is the most boring commission I have had in years. Even though we have been in three battles I have had few injuries to treat. The casualties from Rossiya were most interesting, but I have not needed to treat anything worse than various forms of the pox since we left Vladivostock.”
The doctor finished prodding and pulling on Ivanov’s face, and stood back to examine his overall appearance.
“There. You will be as good as new in a week.”
“Thank you.” The doctor had not actually needed to treat Ivanov. “I will leave you to your syphilitic sailors and malingerers.”
“Actually,” said the doctor, polishing a steel probe, “I get more torn muscles and back injuries than anything else. The boiler rooms are a good source of injuries with all that moving coal about. I sometimes find it hard to believe that the trimmers can actually work at all as the ship rolls and pitches. It is difficult enough to maintain your footing without carrying coal bags as well, especially in the early days of a voyage when you have to contend with seasickness.”
“Pray we don’t have a bad storm. The rolling and pitching will become even worse.”
“Yes. Odd weather we have had so far this year. No really rough seas at all.” The doctor peered out of his office’s scuttle. “Even now there is little swell, and you can see for miles.”
“At this height, about five miles, roughly. Of course we can see ships further away as they poke up out from the surface.”
“Ivanov, I may be a doctor, but I do know a few things about ships and the sea. I am not a complete landlubber.”
“My apologies, Doctor. I did not mean to demean you.”
The doctor smiled.
“Of course you didn’t, you were just being informative. No apology necessary. I am in a crotchety mood due, in part, to boredom.”
“I have a perfect remedy for boredom, and it involves a shovel!” boomed a voice from the doorway.
“I would prefer catching rats to coal dust,” said the doctor to the engineer. “Now cards and vodka would be a far more palatable substitute.”
“By fortunate circumstance, I happen to have the vodka right here, and I know where I can find a pack of cards. We can while away the evening in comfort.”
“Where do you get all the vodka from? You never seem to run out of the stuff,” said Ivanov. “Have you turned part of the engine room into some sort of distillery?”
“Check the condensers and you will find nothing, I tell you, nothing! Now, are we all ready for cards?”
“I am finished here, yes,” said the doctor.
“Good, let us go to the wardroom. We can play cards while Ivanov regales us with the tale of the time he fought hand to hand with a Japanese soldier in an open boat out in the middle of the China Sea, and won!”