Matt looked at him and blinked with surprise. It was a habit he'd picked up from their new friends. "Twenty! I thought you were ambitious thinking about two or three! How big are you planning to make them?"
"Well, that depends on what size we ultimately bore them out. I'm meeting with Mr. McFarlane and Bernie Sandison this evening and we'll kick that around."
Matt chuckled. "Very well, Mr. Letts. Keep me informed, but be sure you don't use anything the ship needs to make your tools!" A wry grin spread across Letts's face, as if he'd been about to ask permission to do that very thing. "As to what to do with them if you get the cannons made?"
Matt paused. "Keje'll have to decide. It's his ship. A floating battery in the bay would be tough to get around, but if anything ever did, the whole defense might collapse. I've never been a big believer in static defenses, and I doubt Keje would be either."
Bradford nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes! Look how much good the Maginot Line did the French! And I'm not even going to start on Singapore! As for Keje's opinion, I assure you you're right. With some quite obvious exceptions, the Lemurians are seagoing nomads. The very idea of being semi-permanently moored in any defensive position would be utterly alien, and perhaps hateful to them. I imagine they'd do it as an expedient during battle, but to actively prepare for such a thing? You might lose all credibility if you made the suggestion. So far, they're willing to take your advice on matters of defense, but that's all any of us really are.
Advisors. We have no official status in the chain of command. I'm not sure there really is one. Nakja-Mur is the overall leader of the People of Balik—I mean Baalkpan—but Keje and any other ship captain who comes ashore, I suppose, all seem to be equals. They command their own People, but are subject to the laws and customs of the territory or ship they set foot on. It's all so very chaotic! It would be far more convenient if they had a king, and all the various ships and places were part of some grand commonwealth!"
"Like the British Empire?" Letts goaded.
"Well . . . yes! Precisely! This current arrangement is far too much like your own various states. Always squabbling, and never agreeing to work together toward a common goal!"
Matt smiled tolerantly at the Australian. "The United States usually manages to pull together over the important things."
"Yes, but it takes wars to make it happen, I might remind you!"
"That may be," Matt confessed, "but it looks like the Lemurians have their war too."
No one spoke for a while as the launch crept farther upriver. Once, Scott almost lost control when a crocodile bumped the boat and he flailed madly for the Thompson submachine gun he always carried slung over his shoulder. "Hold your fire, Mr. Scott," Matt said, just loud enough to be heard. The croc was swimming disinterestedly away, and Tony gave him a sheepish glance as he regained control of the boat.
"How are things going ashore, Lieutenant?" Matt asked Shinya. He'd been shaken from his trancelike study of the wildlife by the launch's capering.
"If you mean the preparation of the militia, Captain Reddy, I must report progress is poor, but improving." Nakja-Mur had decreed that all able-bodied People, male and female, should take training with Sergeant Alden and Lieutenant Shinya, as well as some of their own few warriors every other day. Attendance was mandatory, but from the beginning, participation was somewhat sparse. Many of the younger, more adventurous townsfolk turned out with a will, and some had achieved a level of training that let them perform as NCOs for the less-proficient attendees. Alden had even begun training an "elite" force of a hundred of the sharpest and toughest, which would, of course, become his "Marines."
The vast majority managed to avoid service at first, however, due to exemptions granted almost as a matter of course whenever they complained to the High Chief 's secretaries that their occupations should be protected as "vital to the defense of the People." Some even had a point, and to be fair, many of the young, able-bodied Lemurians had been conscripted into the projects being undertaken for or by the Americans. All those were subject to military discipline, however, and put through a daily regimen of close-order drill and basic weapons training. As the Grik threat became more real, particularly over the last couple of weeks, Shinya had noticed an increasing number of faces at drill that he'd never seen before.
"What kind of numbers are we looking at?" Matt asked.
"It's difficult to say. Sergeant Alden and I drill them each day, but with a few exceptions, we only see them every other day." Drill took place on a large "common" at the foot of Nakja-Mur's Great Hall, and the High Chief often watched the proceedings. The place had once been, for lack of a better term, a "park" near the center of town. But the ground had now been so churned by marching feet and maneuvering troops that they'd taken to calling it the parade ground. It wasn't big enough for everybody, however, so roughly half the militia drilled one day, and the other half the next. It was dreadfully inefficient, but with the dearth of open ground in Baalkpan, it was the only answer. Shinya gazed thoughtfully at the water and turned back to the captain. "I think it's not impossible, right now, to field nearly fifteen hundred Baalkpan troops, reasonably well trained for the type of fighting we saw upon Big Sal. In two weeks, we can perhaps double that number. In six months, we could put ten thousand in the field, but that would include virtually the entire adult population of the city. To assemble such a force, however, will take an even greater sense of . . . urgency than they now have."
"You mean we'd have to be literally under attack, here, to expect that level of participation?" Matt muttered in resignation.
Shinya nodded. "I fear so. Of course, by then it would be much too late to organize them properly. A few of Sergeant Alden's `Marines' have gone aboard the Lemurian ships to get them to learn our drill so coordination would be possible at need. They've received . . . a mixed welcome. As for the tactics we're teaching them, without the benefit of firearms, the only real options are those you suggested. A `Roman' shield wall, backed by spearmen, backed in turn by archers." He shook his head. "One of the most difficult things was to get them to abandon their crossbows. These people are made for shooting bows, and a longbow has a greater range and rate of fire than a crossbow, but they didn't understand why we, a people with such technology, should advocate such simple weapons." He grinned. "Once they saw the superiority of longbows, it wasn't difficult to convince them." Shinya's expression became grim. "Of course, they want firearms."
Matt nodded. "I wish they had them, but without steel . . ." He sighed.
"Once we drag them out of the Bronze Age, we can have a look at flintlock muskets or something, but for now?" He held his hands out at his sides.
"I know Alden's training some of his `Marines' to use our weapons. How's he doing?"
"Yes, he's training fifty of them, but they only get to fire a few rounds each. Mr. Sandison has solved the projectile problem—I think he called it swaging? But the difficulty remains making new cartridge cases if the empty ones are damaged or lost. And, of course, the primers. No one seems to think gunpowder will be a problem"—he bowed toward Letts— "but it won't be smokeless at first, so the automatic weapons won't function well." He shook his head. "Of course, all these logistics matters are not my concern, particularly since I know nothing about them. But I understand that one of Mr. Sandison's concerns is replacing Walker's depleted ammunition stores for her main battery. His experiments with the small arms are the `test bed' for the four-inch guns."
"Lieutenant Shinya, I don't know how it worked in your navy, but logistics is the concern of any officer, infantry officers included—which is what you've become. I'm glad you're keeping up with it." Matt's gaze drifted forward, and he saw massive wooden pilings set in the riverbed some distance out from shore. As they neared, he saw that a framework connected them and a party of 'Cats was working to lay down a plank deck. They'd arrived at the fueling pier.