pick up survivors. Could that be the ship firing at us? I could turn hard to starboard now and swing east to find Rodney again…
At that moment, his lookouts shouted—ship off the port beam. A battleship! The Admiral rushed back out onto the weather deck, heedless of the danger now. There he could clearly see the tall mainmast and conning tower appearing on the horizon, and that could be only one ship. His Arado seaplane soon reported it as well—battleship with three triple turrets, his nemesis, a match for the Hindenburg itself. It could be no other British ship but HMS Invincible.
There you are at last, he said. You’ve come a long way in my shadow, and now we finally meet. Was this the ship that had been announcing it coming with those troubling small caliber rounds, like hail at the edge of as thunder storm? He looked again at the massive clouds on the horizon, the only weather in sight, yet it seemed an unearthly spectacle, out of place, and deeply disturbing.
“Adler! Come about to port! We will engage this newcomer. Leave the battlecruisers to Tirpitz. Now It will be your nine 16-inch guns against theirs, and god go with us.”
The time for this insult of small caliber rounds was finally over. Now it was time for the heavy artillery to decide the issue, and Lütjens was determined that it would be settled here, one way or another. If this was the ship flinging those damn rockets about, he would settle the matter, once and for all.
* * *
Argos Fire was finally up on the scene of Rodney’s travail. The battleship was in a heavy list, down at the bow, where the weight of those three massive turrets seemed to be pressing the ship into the sea. The list was too bad for any further gunfire, but thankfully the battlecruisers had arrived and the action had shifted away from Rodney, off to the west and over the horizon.
MacRae could already see life boats in the water, and he quickly gave orders that they should launch every boat they had. He had kept up a withering gunfire against the second German squadron, and was certain he caused them much misery. But he knew he wasn’t going to sink a German battleship here with his deck gun.
Now look at us, he thought. There’s men in the water, perhaps seven or eight hundred souls on that stricken battleship. That’s 45,000 tons of steel about to roll over and go under out there, and all the King’s business will soon go with it. He looked at Elena, back at his side again with a look of despair in her eyes.
“We’re too damn late,” she breathed.
“Aye,” said MacRae. “We’ve had them on the radio. They took a couple hits low near their forward torpedoes, and the whole magazine went off there. Word is that cargo hold was completely flooded. There was no way in hell we were ever going to get in there. All we can do now is get as many men out of the water as possible.”
“That could be a problem. Too many eyes, Gordon.”
“We can’t bloody well leave them out there? I’ve gone and launched all out boats to lend a hand.”
“Yes, do what you can to pull them onto the boats, but there’s a big troop ship off east. Let’s see if we can quarter the survivors there.”
“That’ll take time, Elena. What if that battle out there comes our way while we’re at it?”
“How many missiles left?”
“Seven.”
Elena folded her arms, determined. “If anything so much as sticks its nose over that horizon again, you damn well hit it with everything we have.”
Gordon nodded, one eyebrow raised. “Well enough,” he said. “Aye, we can hold the field here a while if we have to, but what’s the plan now, Elena? What about those other ships out there?”
“I’ve got Mack on it,” she said. “He’s talking with the Captain of the squadron now—a chap named Dowding. He’s on that auxiliary you mentioned, the Diligence. There are four fleet transports, an oiler, and then the Ulysses.”
“Quite a flock,” said MacRae. “Useful ships.”
“Yes, and with Rodney going down, I’m afraid they’re all our watch now. If we can finish up here, I plan to head to Madalena or Ponta Delgada in the Azores.”
“Makes sense,” said Gordon. “We can’t very well sail into Portsmouth with that lot, can we?’
“Not bloody likely,” said Elena. “Any further word on the Russians?”
“Quiet as mice,” said MacRae. “I’ve been