AWB Chapter 55 "Escort" in the Indian Ocean
Chapter 55 "Escort" in the Indian Ocean
Indian Ocean, 18 degrees North latitude, 62 degrees East longitude, morning of March 18, 1906
The Indian Ocean at sunrise is unrealistically beautiful. The deep blue sea is dyed a golden-red, and the morning mist draws a hazy veil at the horizon. But for the British sailors aboard the HMS Dauntless, this beauty is meaningless.
All their attention was drawn to the gray shadow three nautical miles ahead.
"Speed 22 knots, distance maintained at three nautical miles... they slowed down again."
The lookout's voice was devoid of anger, only filled with numb exhaustion. Rear Admiral John Abbasnott stood on the bridge, a cup of coffee long since cold, his eyes fixed on the warship ahead. He hadn't slept all night; his eyes were bloodshot.
It's been a full eighteen hours.
Since leaving the Gulf of Oman yesterday afternoon, that damned HMS Reconquest has been like a dog on a leash, leading the British fleet in circles in the Indian Ocean. When it goes fast, they chase after it; when it goes slow, they have to slow down to match it; when it turns, they have to make emergency course adjustments.
The key is that they can never catch up.
The "Intrepid" was designed for a speed of 21 knots, but yesterday it struggled to reach 22 knots, and the engine room already issued three overheat warnings. Meanwhile, the other ship was cruising at 25 knots like it was on a walk, and sailing at 30 knots with ease. It even performed a few tricks by suddenly accelerating to 32 knots and then instantly decelerating—purely for the sake of showing off.
"Sir, the chief engineer reports that the heat transfer tubes in boiler group B have cracked, and the pressure is slowly dropping." The communications officer walked onto the bridge, his face grim. "He recommends reducing the speed to below 18 knots, otherwise there is a risk of explosion."
Abbasnot closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sea breeze, carrying a salty smell, filled his lungs, but it couldn't dispel the suffocation in his heart.
"Down to section 19."
"But sir, that would leave us even further behind..."
"Execute the command."
The order was relayed. The black smoke billowing from the "Intrepid" thinned slightly, and the speedometer needle slowly returned to its starting position. Ahead, the "Restoration" seemed to have noticed immediately and began to decelerate almost simultaneously.
The distance between the two warships gradually decreased from three nautical miles to two and a half nautical miles, two nautical miles, one and a half nautical miles...
It was as if they were deliberately waiting for them.
Engine room of the "Intrepid"
Foreman James McCarthy shut off the valve on Boiler Group B, watched the pressure gauge needle slowly drop, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. The burly Irishman, covered in coal dust, wiped his face, leaving streaks of dirt.
"We're safe for now," he told the stokers around him. "But don't get too excited. As long as that monster is still ahead, we'll have to keep fighting."
Young stoker Billy slumped down beside the coal pile, his voice trembling with tears: "Foreman, how much longer do we have to chase after them? I've been shoveling coal for eighteen hours straight, my hands are blistered..."
"Chase them until they stop." McCarthy lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, "or chase them until all our boilers explode."
"This isn't right," muttered another old stoker. "I've been in the Navy for thirty years and I've never seen a battle like this. We chase, they run; we stop, they wait. This isn't like war, it's like...like a cat playing with a mouse."
"Because we are the rats." McCarthy exhaled a smoke ring, looking at the small porthole on the bulkhead. Through the blurry glass, he could see the massive gray hull of the "Restoration" ahead. "They could shake us off at any time, but they don't. They're telling us: Look, the speed you struggle to achieve, we can do with ease."
The engine room was silent, save for the low hissing of the steam pipes.
Billy suddenly asked, "Stoker, why is there no smoke on their boat? I've been observing for a long time, and their chimneys only produce very thin smoke, sometimes none at all."
"Oil-fired boilers," McCarthy said. "Using heavy oil instead of coal is more thermally efficient, and you don't need so many people shoveling coal. Plus, it's cleaner. See their decks? They're so white they reflect light. And look at us..."
He pointed to the cabin floor, where a thick layer of coal ash had accumulated, and with each breath, he could inhale black powder.
"That's the technological gap, kid. Like muskets versus spears, steamships versus sailboats. We're behind, a whole generation behind."
"Then... will we lose?"
McCarthy remained silent for a long time. He didn't even feel the pain when the cigarette butt burned his fingers.
"I don't know," he finally said, "but I do know one thing: if General Nelson were here today, he would say, 'Britain expects everyone to do their duty.' So our job is to shovel coal and keep this old maid running. As for winning or losing... leave it to God and those big gentlemen sitting in their London offices."
He threw away the cigarette butt and stomped it out.
"Okay, take a ten-minute break. Then check boiler unit C; I heard an unusual noise."
"Kuangfu" bridge
"The British speed has dropped to 19 knots," reported Navigator Lin Hai with a smile. "The black smoke from their chimneys is thinning; there's probably a problem with the engines."
Li Te stood in front of the chart table, using a compass to measure the distance from his current location to Mumbai.
"We're slowing down too. 18 knots."
"Understood, speed 18 knots."
The command was transmitted to the engine room via a megaphone. The watchkeeper simply pulled a few levers, reducing the amount of oil injected into the fuel-fired boilers and causing the speed of the four steam turbines to decrease steadily.
The entire process was quiet and smooth, without any vibration.
"Captain, are you waiting for them on purpose?" Lin Hai couldn't help but ask.
"The President's order is 'Show strength, but not humiliation.'" Little didn't look up, continuing to mark the course on the chart. "But we also need to make it clear that we're not running away, but leading the way. They're able to follow because we've allowed them to."
He put down his compass and looked out the porthole. From a distance of one and a half nautical miles, he could already see the sailors on the deck of the "Intrepid," those little dots in white uniforms bustling about.
"Lin Hai, what do you think is the current state of our sailors?"
The young naval officer thought for a moment: "I'm excited, but also...relax. Everyone was very nervous during the first standoff yesterday, but now we seem to be used to it. I just went to check the turret, and a few of the loaders were discussing what to eat for dinner."
"Relaxation is a good thing," Li nodded. "It shows they have confidence in the ship and in their training. Fear stems from the unknown, but when they know they have the upper hand, fear turns into confidence."
He walked to the megaphone and connected the ship's broadcast system.
"Attention, all crew, this is Captain Li Te."
His voice carried through the pipes to every corner of the ship. The sailors on duty looked up, while those resting sat up straight.
"We are currently sailing in the Indian Ocean, and three nautical miles behind us is the British Royal Navy's HMS Dreadnought and its escort fleet. They have been following us for eighteen hours."
Li Te paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle.
"I know some people might ask: Why don't we shake them off? Why let them follow us?"
"The answer is simple: because we want them to see. Let them see how fast this ship can go, how sharply it can turn, and how smoothly it can operate. Let them see that the warships built by the Chinese are no worse than those built by anyone else in the world."
"Three years ago, many of us were still struggling to make ends meet in the mines, plantations, and docks of Southeast Asia. Three years ago, the whole world thought that Chinese people couldn't build a decent ship."
"Now, we've built it. And we're sailing it with ease, right in front of the Royal Navy, in the Indian Ocean, which they consider their backyard."
His voice gradually rose:
"So, keep up the good work. Do your jobs well. Show those British people what professionalism, discipline, and a modern navy look like."
"We are not running away, we are leading the way. We are leading not only this ship, but also the future of a nation."
"complete."
The broadcast ended. A few seconds of silence followed, then a suppressed cheer erupted from the entire ship.