The wind was a stiff topsail breeze out of the northeast-by-east, blowing at a speed of perhaps twenty-four miles per hour and raising eight-to ten-foot waves. On her new heading, Destiny would be sailing large, with the wind almost dead on her quarter. That was just about her best point of sailing, which meant she ought to make good seven and a half or eight knots, with just under thirty miles to go. Call it four hours, he thought. Time to get all the men fed a good, solid lunch before they cleared for action, and then…
“All ships have acknowledged, Sir!” Saylkyrk called from above.
“Very good, Master Saylkyrk!” Lathyk called back, then turned respectfully to Yairley.
“All ships have acknowledged receipt of the signal, Admiral.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Yairley replied gravely, and glanced up at the stiffly starched signal flags himself. By hoisting the squadron’s number above Admiral Shain’s signal, Lathyk had repeated it to all of the squadron’s units. When it was hauled down, Yairley’s command would execute it, the rest of the fleet’s sixteen squadrons would make sail in his wake in succession to execute their own portions of the high admiral’s master plan, and the die would be cast.
My, how dramatic, Dunkyn, he thought wryly. “The die was cast” before you ever left Tellesberg.
“Very well, Captain Lathyk,” he heard himself say calmly. “Execute.”
Sir Domynyk Staynair stood on HMS Destroyer’ s quarterdeck, watching his flagship’s crew scamper about making final preparations. Or that was what he looked like he was doing, at any rate. In fact, he was watching the imagery projected on his contact lenses as Dunkyn Yairley and Payter Shain began to move and the rest of the fleet started unfolding into its own component columns behind them.
The Imperial Charisian Navy had returned to the Gulf of Mathyas in strength within less than a month of Destiny ’s damage-enforced retreat, and this time it hadn’t come simply to keep an eye on the exit from the Gulf of Jahras. Admiral Shain had sent his fleet-footed schooners deep into the Gulf to reconnoiter the approaches to Terrence Bay, Port Iythria, and Mahrosa Bay. In the process, they’d swept the once-sheltered waters clear of Desnairian commerce, and, taking a page from Rock Point’s own tactics in Thol Bay, Shain had used his Marines to seize control of Howard Island, well inside Staiphan Reach and right in the throat of the Howard Passage.
The island was barely thirty-five miles long, and aside from Tern Bay, at its northern end, it didn’t present much in the way of decent anchorages. Even Tern Bay was little more than an open roadstead, offering no protection at all against northerlies. Still, it was a source of fresh water, always a warship’s most limiting supply factor. It had taken two five-days for the heavy naval guns landed across the island’s eastern beaches to batter the fortress guarding the small town of Tern Bay into submission, but they’d been time well spent, given how greatly its capture had eased Shain’s logistics. The admiral had also landed enough Marines and enough artillery to make sure no Desnairian pounce was going to take it back from him, and suddenly the largely worthless island had become a cork driven firmly into the Desnairian bottle.
Operating from the (relative) security of Tern Bay, the Imperial Charisian Navy had gone basically wherever it chose in the Gulf of Jahras. Rock Point had rather hoped Baron Jahras would venture out to dispute the ICN’s invasion of the Desnairian Empire’s most economically vital coastal waters, but what had happened to Kornylys Harpahr had made the baron wiser than that. So the Charisian cruiser squadrons had amused themselves wiping out the Gulf’s coasting trade and sending cutting-out expeditions into its lesser harbors under cover of darkness to capture or burn anything bigger than a fishing boat. And they’d also trailed their coats just beyond artillery range of the Desnairian Navy’s harbor fortifications, counting noses and examining anchorages.
As a result, they’d been able to provide Rock Point with intelligence on his enemy’s dispositions which was almost as good as what Owl’s SNARCs delivered. Not quite, of course, since unlike the SNARCs they couldn’t actually eavesdrop on Jahras’ discussions with Kholman or his ship commanders, but they’d provided more than enough information Rock Point could openly share with his own subordinates for planning purposes. And as he’d studied and discussed those reports with Shain, Yairley, and his other flag officers and senior captains, it had become evident that Jahras realized he simply couldn’t fight the Charisian Navy and hope to win. Not at sea, at any rate. Not only that, but somewhat to Rock Point’s surprise, the baron had demonstrated the moral courage to tell his superiors he couldn’t.
The Navy of God’s shock after the Markovian Sea had been profound enough for those superiors to actually listen to him, as well. Or profound enough that they hadn’t actively overruled him, at least, when he’d turned his galleons into what amounted to no more than floating batteries. Despite the importance of the Gulf’s shipping to the Desnairian economy, he hadn’t even tried to defend most of its ports, either. They’d had to make do with their existing coastal fortifications-which, admittedly, were more than enough to discourage any thought of widespread Charisian landings, especially with the Imperial Desnairian Army hanging about just in case it might be needed – because he’d refused to disperse those galleons. Iythria, with its major shipyards and dockyards, was the Gulf’s largest and most important harbor and its primary naval base. It had been built up into a major node in the Church of God’s shipbuilding and support system, and he’d decided he had no choice but to stake everything on protecting his fleet’s supporting infrastructure, although even that much was a daunting challenge for a fleet which dared not meet its opponent under sail.
Iythria’s approaches were screened by an arc of islands, extending from Sylmahn Island to the west, through Singer Island (the most northeasterly outpost of the port city), and then back to Pearl Point on the mainland. That, unfortunately, was a distance of over a hundred and fifty miles, which was far too long to protect with any sort of fixed defenses.
Sylmahn Island and Ray Island formed a second theoretical line of defense south of that, but the Middle Ground-the stretch of water between Sylmahn and Ray-was still forty-five miles across, and shallow enough in several spots to offer practical anchorages beyond the range of the island fortresses’ artillery. South of the Middle Ground lay the Outer Roadstead, another thirty miles in a north-south line before one reached the Inner Harbor and the waterfront proper of Port Iythria. Taken altogether, it was one of the finest anchorages Rock Point had ever seen, and if Desnair hadn’t been a primarily land-based power with its attention firmly focused on the Republic of Siddarmark and the Harchong Empire, it would have offered a sound base for a thriving merchant marine. Instead, other realms’ shipping-primarily Charis’, before the… current unpleasantness-had made use of its potential, which meant among other things that Rock Point’s charts for Iythria and its approaches were very, very detailed.
The only way to actually reach Iythria from the sea required an attacker to penetrate one of the two openings in the shoals protecting the Inner Harbor. The West Gate, the passage between Rocky Bank Shoal and Sickle Shoal, was the narrower of those approaches. Navigable by small vessels across virtually its entire width at high water, the deepwater channel was unfortunately serpentine and relatively narrow, which made it a much more problematical route for blue water galleons. On the other hand, the North Gate-the opening between Sickle Shoal and Triangle Shoal, directly north of the city-was far broader than the West Gate. It was also deeper, with a twelve-mile ship channel, navigable even at low water, with nary a twist nor a turn.