Floating Madhouse Page 5

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  The battleship Sissoy Veliky in the course of weighing had managed to lose her anchor: then near the outer end of the dredged channel the torpedo-boat Buistry had collided with the Oslyabya. Admiral Rojhestvensky was leaving the Sissoy to recover that anchor – by grappling for it from a pinnace, presumably – and then follow on her own. Rojhestvensky had shouted at his chief of staff, ‘Teach the swine to take more care!’ Because following alone, unescorted, was reckoned to be a highly dangerous proceeding – the Baltic being thick with Japanese torpedo-craft and minelayers, as everyone knew it was. As to the Buistry, she’d been approaching the Oslyabya to deliver some message and her captain had either misjudged his distance or put his wheel the wrong way; Narumov, whose job it would be to organize repairs, probably when the squadron anchored off Bornholm some time tomorrow, expressed the view that if the man was typical of his kind he’d almost certainly been drunk.

  The weather was worsening, visibility considerably reduced by rain and drizzle sweeping grey across a now choppy sea. At about six o’clock Michael was in the wardroom, hearing from Narumov that he’d been the assistant constructor on the Borodino throughout her building and consequently knew this class of ship intimately – which had to be why they’d decided to send him in the flagship despite his having no previous sea experience – and watching a game which involved the dog Flagmansky and a champagne cork on a string – when his former travelling companion, Selyeznov, came down with a message from the chief of staff: Admiral Rojhestvensky could spare a few minutes now, if he’d be so good as to come up to the bridge.

  ‘Right!’

  He stood up. Selyeznov said, ‘I’ll take you up there, Mikhail Ivan’ich.’

  ‘All right. Thank you. But I’d find my way—’

  ‘Hah!’ Narumov grinning up at them. ‘When Boyarin Zenovy snaps his fingers, even the proud English jump!’

  ‘I suggest you refrain from referring to your commander-in-chief in terms of such familiarity!’ Selyeznov puffing himself up like a frog, glaring down at the engineer, adding, ‘Especially in front of an outsider!’ Michael aware that Zenovy was Rojhestvensky’s Christian name, and ‘Boyarin’ meant ‘Lord’. Facetious, certainly, but not so terrible an insult. Narumov shrugging, telling the little man that he himself was an outsider: ‘A constructor, I build ships, I shouldn’t be called upon to sail on the accursed things. If Boyarin Zenovy would care to put me ashore somewhere I’d be only too gratified!’

  Up to the forebridge then, where Clapier de Colongue first introduced Michael to the ship’s captain – Ignatzius, a tubby, cheerful man, who evinced no noticeable hatred of the English, in fact seemed entirely friendly. The battlefleet, Michael had noticed, was pushing along at nine or ten knots, steaming in two separate divisions. Felkerzam’s second division – the Oslyabya and company – was a mile astern of this one, while the black smudges of another group of large ships visible ahead through now heavy drizzle and under a cloud of their own funnel-smoke were – Ignatzius informed him – ‘auxiliary cruisers’, those former German liners, in company with the transports, some of which were at least as big as the so-called ‘cruisers’. Michael had commented, ‘No destroyers with us, then,’ and Ignatzius told him, ‘Destroyers and the first-class cruisers have gone ahead. Mines are therefore of no particular concern to us – as long as those fellows draw enough water to explode them for us. What?’ Laughing heartily, swinging his arms and stamping his feet, presumably to warm them. Then: ‘Tell me, lieutenant – are you a big-ship man?’

  ‘Not really, sir. My last job was navigator of a cruiser – on the West Indies station – but I’ve served mostly in destroyers. Only spent a few months in a battleship – as a midshipman, that was.’

  ‘So the Ryazan will suit you better than this – if, or when, we happen to come across her – eh?’

  Another roar of laughter finalized that interview – suggesting perhaps that the Ryazan had got lost. Otherwise, what was the joke? Perhaps he didn’t need one. The chief of staff, guiding Michael around the superstructure’s more sheltered side to the admiral’s quarters – at the after end of this bridge level, behind the chartroom, wireless office and what was probably Ignatzius’s sea-cabin – had only smiled thinly, shaking his head as if it puzzled him too. Halting now, raising a fist to knock on another black-painted door.

  Rojhestvensky – the name was pronounced ‘Rojh estv’nski’ – was a very large man: taller than Michael, and broader, with a squarish face, strong jaw, neatly trimmed beard and moustache and wide-apart, glaring eyes under jutting brows which gave him a ferocious look. Michael had placed his cap under his left arm on entering the cabin; at attention, he bowed slightly.

  ‘An honour, sir.’

  ‘I’ve heard about you from Captain Selyeznov.’ Loud voice, fierce expression. ‘You have close connections with the Princes Volodnyakov, I understand. I’m bound therefore to welcome you to my squadron.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Most kind…’

  ‘Despite the fact that Great Britain is in alliance with our enemies!’

  He’d shouted that. Michael told him, ‘I’m half Russian as well as half English, sir.’

  ‘You’re an officer of the Royal Navy! Answers that conclusively enough – eh?’ The eyes blazed at him. ‘Why you’d have wanted to come with us I find puzzling! Explain it, can you?’

  He nodded. Not having been invited to sit down: in any case the chairs around the table were heaped with files, signal-logs, rolled charts… There was nowhere Rojhestvensky himself could have sat, even on his own, only presumably in his sleeping-cabin, which would be through that door in the port for’ard corner. Michael began – soothingly – ‘I’d say first that it was not my idea or proposal, sir. To start with I was only invited to the Volodnyakov estate for a family occasion – the announcement of a betrothal.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘Prince Igor’s daughter’s to Captain Zakharov of the Ryazan, sir.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ To Colongue: ‘You mentioned something of the sort.’ A hard look at Michael then: ‘But you had no difficulty in obtaining leave for this “family occasion” – eh?’

  ‘I was due for some saved-up leave, sir. I’ve just completed a two-year commission on the West Indies station, and had none in all that time. But in fact, owing to my mother being Russian – she was a Sevasyeyev—’

  ‘Was, was she?’

  ‘—and having been brought up speaking at least some Russian, and there being a need for officers who can serve as interpreters when necessary—’

  ‘They’ve sent you to practise your Russian on us – that it?’

  ‘Initially, yes – as far as visiting the Volodnyakovs was concerned. Although as I said, I had leave due to me in any case – and I’ve been granted periods of leave in past years for that same purpose. But there’s a lot more to it than that, sir – as I’m sure you’ll have guessed. A chance to get seagoing war experience, very likely experience of action – especially because since steam replaced sail, wooden decks and hulls are now armour-plated and guns immensely more powerful as well as being mounted in trainable turrets with telescopic sights, and so forth. It’s an entirely novel situation in which we’ve had no major war or battle experience and tactics as taught now can only be based on theory and supposition – at least, until your own very recent engagements with the Japanese—’

  ‘Of which the less said, the better!’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘You agree, do you, less said the better?’

  ‘Well. As one’s heard – regrettably… There’s no doubt your First Squadron did have dreadfully bad luck. The loss of Admirals Makarov and Witheft—’

  ‘You’re not totally uninformed, then!’

  ‘I hope not, sir. But I’m sure that with this powerful reinforcement now—’

  ‘We’ll turn the tables on them, have no fear of that!’ He’d slammed one fist into the other palm, and glanced for confirmation at Clapier de Colongue; the chief of staf
f spreading his hands, murmuring, ‘No doubt at all, Excellency…’

  ‘Despite enormous handicaps they’ve forced on me… But we’re your Admiralty’s guinea-pigs, are we? It’s to hear from you how we handle things that they sanctioned your coming with us?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that, sir. But if I may say this – I’m not here as a spy, either.’

  ‘Why say it? Did anyone suggest—’

  ‘I had the impression, sir – from the line of this interrogation—’

  ‘Interrogation?’

  ‘The questions as to my reasons for accepting this invitation, sir.’

  ‘Oh – that…’ A glance at de Colongue: then back again. ‘They’ll be expecting detailed reports from you all the same – eh?’

  ‘Not in the interim, sir. No question of sending reports back en route, for instance.’

  ‘For example, then… Hasn’t it occurred to you or to your superiors that I’m facing the most immense problems over coaling? Where and how to coal, when since we’re belligerents – through having been attacked, mind you – neutrals won’t let us into their damned harbours virtually anywhere at all, despite the need to replenish bunkers after every few days’ steaming?’

  ‘I had wondered, yes…’

  ‘Won’t your Admiralty be wondering too? Wouldn’t you like me to tell you how I’m going to do it, so you can tip them off – enabling them to forestall us somehow?’

  ‘They’re not expecting to hear from me at all, sir.’

  ‘Are they not?’ A snort – derision, disbelief. ‘In their position, I’d certainly be expecting it.’ The admiral’s eyes were narrowed, crafty. Enjoying the role of interrogator, perhaps. A shrug, then: ‘All right, I’ll take your word for it.’ Another sideways glance at Clapier de Colongue: ‘The conclusion’s simple, if that is the case. They don’t need reports from him, because we’ll have their ships trailing us every mile of the way – snooping and reporting back, and their government threatening anyone who even thinks of letting us in. Because the Japanese would expect nothing less.’ To Michael again: ‘You realize that’s what your people will be doing? Exerting pressure right across the world – France, Germany, Spain, Portugal, all the territories they’ve grabbed like marauding dogs along the African seaboard – and in the East as well?’ He’d turned to de Colongue, throwing his arms up in a gesture of despair: ‘Isn’t that exactly what we’ll be contending with?’ Swinging back now, pointing with a forefinger the size of a banana: ‘We will damn well contend with it! I’ll beat the whole damn lot of them!’

  Michael nodded. ‘I’m sure you will, sir.’ Rojhestvensky staring at him, taking long, deep breaths, presumably to calm himself. And changing the subject now: ‘Have you known Captain Zakharov long?’

  ‘Only weeks. In fact we met about – yes, three weeks ago, over a period of two days at the Volodnyakov estate at Injhavino.’

  ‘Was it Prince Ivan’s notion, to ask him if he’d take you?’

  ‘General Prince Igor’s, I think. But since it’s a naval matter he’d have given it to Prince Ivan to arrange.’

  ‘I still wonder why… Look here – you might think this rather a personal question—’

  ‘Perfectly all right, sir.’

  ‘Simply this – how did your connection with the Volodnyakovs come about originally? That’s to say, we know your father married a Russian – of the Sevasyeyev family – but how did that come about?’

  ‘He met the Countess Elizavyeta Andreyevna at her sister Varvara’s wedding to Prince Igor. Prince Igor had invited him. So that was the start of it – two years later my father married the younger sister.’

  ‘The start, surely, must be wherever your father and Prince Igor first met.’

  ‘Oh – of course. In the war we and the French fought against you – in the Crimea, fifty years ago. My father was a captain in a regiment of dragoons, and he happened to save Prince Igor’s life.’

  ‘Saved his enemy?’

  ‘Prince Igor was a lieutenant at the time – he was five or six years younger than my father – in one of your Guards regiments. Might have been the Preobrazhenskis… Anyway he’d got lost somehow behind our lines and had the bad luck to be cornered by a troop of mounted French who were –’ he glanced at de Colongue – ‘this is unpalatable, I know; they had no officers with them, must have been running wild – were about to make him run – on foot, to ride him down then with their lances – for sport, as it were. Well—’

  ‘Your father intervened?’

  Michael nodded. ‘Charged them with his sabre drawn, they scattered, he recovered Prince Igor’s horse for him and rode some distance towards the Russian lines with him – pointed him towards home, and that was that.’

  ‘Having I suppose exchanged cards.’

  ‘At least identities and regiments. Leading – some five years later – to the wedding invitation.’ He looked again at Clapier de Colongue. ‘Sorry to tell such a story, sir. Not a pleasing one to French ears.’

  ‘As it happens my ears are well and truly Russian. But we all have our miscreants, in whom war often brings out the worst, as well as sometimes the best.’

  Rojhestvensky had turned away – striding to the door of his sleeping-cabin and then back again. Halting, nodding, fists on his hips: ‘No wonder Prince Igor was pleased to bestow such an exceptional mark of favour on that man’s son.’ Pointing again suddenly: ‘And as you remarked, Genderson, that was fifty years ago – exactly fifty years, surely! Wasn’t it in the middle of October of that year – fifty-four - that you laid siege to us in Sevastopol?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, sir!’

  The admiral liked that. Nodding, happy with it. ‘So there you are. The anniversary – the debt he’s owed your father for so long. Never mentioned that aspect of it, eh?’

  ‘No, sir. Until this moment it hadn’t occurred to me.’ Because it was plain coincidence, irrelevant.

  ‘Satisfying his own conscience – sense of obligation, memory of your father. Becomes much easier to understand, doesn’t it? But I want to get on with this now. Tell me, Genderson – man to man: what do you know of the Japanese threat here in the Baltic and the Skaggerak?’

  ‘I don’t believe there’s any such threat, sir. Not anywhere in European waters.’

  ‘That’s what you maintained to Selyeznov. Who, as an adviser on my staff, with very recent first-hand experience of japanese monkey-tricks, is convinced there’s a definite and immediate threat – every likelihood of our being attacked – with mines if not torpedoes, especially in the confined waters of the Belts, the Kattegat and the Skaw. How do you answer that?’

  ‘Can’t see it as a possibility, sir. The Japanese might wish they could, but they’d have colossal difficulties to overcome. Operating so far from their own bases and knowing there’s no chance at all we or any other European power would help them in any way. Britain’s alliance with Japan is purely defensive, not offensive; and for the same reason that the French and Germans won’t let you coal in their ports, neither they nor we would allow Japanese into ours.’

  ‘Strange – considering you’ve built most of their ships for them!’

  ‘We build ships for half the world, sir.’

  ‘And train their officers. Not excluding their Admiral Togo.’

  ‘So I’ve heard, sir. But there again—’

  ‘What about small steamers – or fishing vessels, say – adapted for minelaying? Hiding in recent weeks in the Scandinavian fjords perhaps?’

  ‘They’d need a fitting-out base to start with, sir, wouldn’t they? And shoreside support and supplies – and such total secrecy as in present circumstances – well, with all the newspaper speculation, and all of us intent on guarding our neutrality—’

  ‘Now you’re just babbling, lieutenant. The fact is that to adapt small vessels for minelaying would be as easy as falling off a log. Some launching arrangement, that’s all – such as many trawlers might have already, I dare say. And the s
upply of mines, of course – but they’d be brought by – oh, anything at all, even sailing ships. Nobody’d have to know a thing about it.’ Sardonic grin directed at his chief of staff: ‘While they’re busy “guarding their neutrality” – eh?’ Back to Michael: ‘What could be easier than to sneak out ostensibly to fish but actually to plant mines – in those narrow, shallow waters – conveniently shallow, seldom more than ten fathoms and often less – correct? – in the Belts and the Kattegat?’

  He was right about the depths, and in laying moored mines from small craft it would help, obviously. But – he shook his head again. ‘I can’t see how they’d be in a position to do any of those things, sir. Captain Selyeznov I know has been persuaded that Europe’s crawling with Japanese naval officers, but I very much doubt it. After all, when you see a Japanese you know he’s Japanese, don’t you?’

  ‘Well – hear this. But just a minute… De Colongue – clear the rubbish off these.’ Off the chairs. Chief of staff as clearer-upper, Michael thought. Rojhestvensky leaving him to it, striding to the door and wrenching it open, his bulk filling it for a moment as he passed through. Glimpse of wet, black-painted steel, slanting rain, grey sea heaving: Rojhestvensky standing for a few moments gazing around, then disappearing towards the starboard side – for a view ahead, no doubt – but within a minute back again, hunching through the low door, brushing the wet off his frock coat. ‘Sit down.’ He grabbed a chair for himself, turned it to sit astride it. Bearded jaw jutting… ‘Genderson, some facts now – but quickly, I didn’t expect to take this long. Listen. Weeks ago we anticipated the dangers we’d be facing here, and an officer of our Secret Service, by name of – well, never mind – was sent to Copenhagen to set up a network of agents – in Sweden, Norway and Germany as well as Denmark. And I tell you, the reports have been flooding in! Unidentifiable vessels in hidden coves, comings and goings by steamers on apparently legitimate business but calling in by night at those same places – there, see that?’ Pointing at a signal log. ‘A whole series of such reports, none of which can be ignored. Have you wondered what your Ryazan’s doing, so far ahead of us? I’ll tell you: Zakharov’s investigating localities of special danger. He’s a good man, I wish I had a dozen more like him – in place of some of the riff-raff I have been given. Decrepit ships and rotten officers.’ He glared at de Colongue: ‘Eh?’ A courtly inclination of the fair head: ‘Indeed, Excellency.’ De Colongue was about the same height as Rojhestvensky, but slimmer –- in fact willowy. Michael didn’t envy him his job. The admiral swung back to him: ‘So there it is, Genderson. As from sunset all ships will be mounting doubled watches, guns will be manned night and day with twice the normal quantity of ready-use ammunition close at hand, and searchlights manned of course throughout the hours of darkness. Nobody’ll be turning in, officers and men will sleep at their action stations fully dressed.’