“And how, exactly, did taking them to sea produce a different outcome?” Shain Hauwyl, the Duke of Salthar, was ten years older than Thirsk and while he was less likely to be driven by prejudices and jealousy than Thorast, he was undeniably more comfortable with Thorast than with Thirsk. That was probably inevitable, since he and Thorast were kinsmen … and since Salthar was also a firm supporter of the Jihad.
“I didn’t say it did, Your Grace,” Thirsk replied. “What I said was that it was the proper decision, not that it produced the result we all obviously wish it had. He didn’t succeed in breaking out of the trap, but it was the only option which offered even the possibility of getting our galleons—and their crews—home for further service in the Jihad. And I might also point out that according to Sea Dragon’s dispatch, Admiral Raisahndo and his people managed to inflict heavy damage on at least some of the heretic galleons which engaged them. In fact, had it not been for the ironclad galleons in the heretics’ order of battle, they might well have succeeded in reaching Gorath after all. Whatever else anyone may think,” the earl’s voice hardened slightly but was clearly discernibly, “the Western Squadron fought—and died—hard, My Lords. No one broke, no one ran, and I could not be prouder of our officers and men.”
This time, he did turn his head and meet Thorast’s fiery gaze levelly, steadily … and very, very coldly.
“That’s all well and good,” Salthar said, and waved one hand in a half-apologetic gesture when Thirsk glared at him. “I’m not trying to downplay or denigrate the courage and determination they showed, My Lord. If it sounded that way, I apologize.”
To his credit, Thirsk thought, he sounded as if he meant it. Which Thorast never would have.
“What I meant to get at,” Salthar continued, glancing at Lainyr, “is that however hard they may have fought, they lost. And my understanding is that with the destruction of Admiral Raisahndo’s ships, we no longer have a Navy.”
“That’s not entirely correct, Your Grace,” Thirsk disagreed respectfully. Salthar looked at him incredulously, and the baron smiled a lopsided smile. “We still have approximately forty galleons and at least thirty screw-galleys in commission. We’re short on trained manpower for them, but we’ve got the ships, and we should commission the first of the new, heavier screw-galleys within the next four or five five-days. Unfortunately, if any of them—including the new screw-galleys, I’m afraid—run into one of these steam-powered ironclads of the heretics, they’ll have no chance of survival. I know no one seated at this table wants to hear that, and believe me when I say that I absolutely hate having to say it, but it’s the unvarnished truth.”
“So you just want to give up and crawl under the table and hide?” Thorast more than half sneered.
“No, I don’t.” Thirsk’s quiet, almost courteous tone was a distinct contrast to Thorast’s fleeting contempt. “What I said is that our galleons and screw-galleys can’t fight the heretics’ ironclads—especially their steam-powered ironclads—and live.”
“Forgive me, my son,” Lainyr said, “but doesn’t that imply that we can’t fight them anywhere?”
“Your Eminence, I’m not going to pretend we’re not looking at a disastrous situation.” Thirsk shook his head, his expression unyielding. “In fact, you may not have realized just how disastrous it truly is.
“The good news is that these steamers appear to be relatively short-legged. In fact, I’m morally certain that that short range is the real reason the heretics have been prowling around Trove Island. I strongly suspect they want to base at least some of their steamers there, and if they do, they’ll be within fifteen hundred sea miles of Gorath. That’s probably still too long a reach for them, judging by what we’ve seen so far. It would, however, put them in a position to interdict the Mahthyw Passage, the Trosan Channel, and the Hilda Channel. In effect, to interdict all traffic from Dohlar proper to any point in the Gulf. Which, obviously, would include the Gulf of Tanshar, with all the implications for General Rychtyr’s logistics and our ability to support the southern lobe of the Mighty Host.”
“Are you saying the heretics can shut down all of our support for the Jihad?” Lainyr looked and sounded badly shaken, and Thirsk didn’t blame him.
“Probably not completely, Your Eminence,” the earl said almost compassionately. “First, the Mahthyw Passage is the next best thing to two hundred miles wide. For that matter, the Trosan Channel’s over three hundred miles wide, and the heretics clearly don’t have an unlimited supply of these things. However fast and powerfully armed they may be, each of them can still cover only a single circle of seawater no more than fifteen or twenty miles across. Their masts aren’t tall enough for them to see much if any farther than that. In fact, I’d be surprised if they could see twenty miles even in perfect visibility. That limits their ability to spot targets. In addition, the smoke from their furnaces is likely to be visible to a sailing vessel long before a sailing vessel’s top-hamper is visible to them. A ship doesn’t have to be faster than they are to escape them if she can alter course and simply avoid them without ever being spotted.” The earl shook his head. “No, Your Eminence. The real threat they’d present at Trove Island would be that they’d make it effectively impossible for us to retake the island or deprive their conventional light cruisers of their forward base.”
“And what’s to keep them from … leapfrogging from Trove to someplace closer to Gorath?” Lainyr asked. “Dragon or Lizard islands, for example?”
“Not a great deal at this time, Your Eminence,” Thirsk replied unflinchingly, with a surprised sense of respect for the question. It would appear Lainyr did have an imagination … when he chose to turn it on. “I’m sorry, but I’d be derelict in my duty if I suggested anything else. The Navy’s prepared to do everything we can to defend the islands, but the truth is that we’ll be desperately hard-pressed just to defend the Kingdom’s major ports.”
“Then you think you can defend them?”
“We certainly intend to try, Your Eminence.” Thirsk showed his teeth.
“Truly? How?”
“We’re in the process of mounting as many of the ‘superheavy’ Fultyn Rifles as we can in our port-defense batteries. The most powerful of them will fire a twelve-inch solid shot, although I’ve been promised a fifteen-inch weapon. Even if St. Kylmahn’s can actually deliver a fifteen-inch rifle, though, they aren’t going to be able to provide them any time soon, especially if the heretics succeed in cutting the shipping routes across the Gulf of Tanshar. We already have quite a few of the twelve-inch weapons, however. Most of them are Dohlaran-built—I’m afraid the proposed fifteen-incher’s beyond our present capabilities, which is why we were relying on St. Kylmahn’s to deliver them to us—and the foundries assigned to the Navy are producing more of them on a crash basis. We’ve given priority to mounting them in the Gorath Bay fortifications, and as more become available, we’ll deploy as many as possible to the other major ports. My own preference would be to cover a few ports, the most important ones, as heavily as possible rather than spreading them about in tenth-mark-packets. To be effective, their fire will have to be concentrated, not dispersed, because even though they hit with one hell of a lot of authority, if you’ll pardon the phrase, they’re individually slow-firing.”