George Washington's Ghost

In the air over the target he would have no problem whatsoever jettisoning his near empty drop tanks over enemy territory. If there was a ‘military’ target underneath him at the time, all well and good. If not, well, that was too bad. Either way, he was not about to start crying crocodile tears over it.

Chapter 34

Monday 8th May

Imperial Concession, Guaynabo, San Juan, Santo Domingo

The SMS Weser’s mooring lines parted with a series of very loud ‘clunking’ noises as sledge hammers demolished the winding gear at the ship’s bow and stern. By then most of the aviation spirit in the cans the looters of the Armada del Santo Domingo had left lined up on the quayside, presumably for collection in the morning by the criminals and war profiteers they had sold them to, had been carried on board the half-wrecked merchant raider, tipped on the decks and set alight.

On the bridge of the Emden, Commander Peter Cowdrey-Singh could honestly not believe how smoothly things had gone, or how unobservant the lookouts – assuming there were any – on the ironclad San Miguel had been thus far.

Hans von Schaffhausen’s troops had walked aboard the cruiser virtually unchallenged. Those Dominicans on the quayside, or not yet roaring drunk or pleasuring themselves with the chorus line of tarts they had invited onto the ship, had just watched the Germans walk back onto the cruiser and take control. Not even a few muffled gunshots deep in the bowels of the warship had attracted anybody’s attention.

Yesterday, the German Minister had belatedly confessed that he had always had an emergency evacuation plan for ‘his people’, in the event ‘something untoward’ came to pass. The man loved everything about Santo Domingo except the Inquisition – which had not always been ‘this pernicious’ – and the members of the ruling cabal, for whom he had unrelenting contempt. All it took was the word ‘CAVILIERI’ to be spread and everybody, men, women, children, the sick and the infirm dropped, on pain of being left behind, everything, and headed for the port. The first civilians were being ushered up the cruiser’s gangway as the last crew member re-boarded her.

It had immediately been apparent that the Dominicans had indeed, regarded the ship, as a treasure trove to be looted. Parts of the vessel were effectively electronically dead, the ELDAR fire control and air search installations had been ripped out, and most of the store rooms emptied. The aviation spirit on the dockside had been siphoned out of the tanks for the Emden’s SWF Model 157 seaplane. The only surviving working radio on the whole ship was that in the cockpit of the aircraft which was positioned half-in, half-out of its hangar. It seemed that the Dominicans had, no one could tell how, managed to burn out the motor that turned the crane which loaded and unloaded the SWF 157 and the ship’s boats.

“Unglaublich!” Kapitan-zur-See Claus Wallendorf muttered repeatedly as he stalked the bridge of his almost bloodlessly re-claimed command.

Unbelievable!

“What did they think they were doing?”

Answer came there none because the mind of their enemies was utterly unfathomable to any self-respecting Royal Navy or Kaiserliche Marine man.

As they came aboard the civilians were swiftly ushered below and ordered, in no uncertain terms ‘not to get in the way’.

Most of Peter Cowdrey-Singh’s men had been assigned to the cruiser’s Deck Division, where their general training and familiarity with weapons systems – most of which differed from their British equivalents only by the variation in the calibre of their barrels – enabled them to easily dovetail into the ship’s hastily thrown together restored order of battle.

A runner hurried onto the bridge.

“I respectfully report that number four boiler is lit, Herr Kapitan,” the man reported breathlessly. “The Chief Engineer reports that his department will answer engine room telegraphs on both shafts.”

None of the status boards on the bridge were working and the Gunnery Officer had reported that the main battery fire control circuit was dead, meaning that the ship’s main armament could now only be fought in local control.

By Angela and Hans von Schaffhausen’s count there were still some thirty or forty civilians yet to arrive at the port as the fires on the Weser took hold and the raider began to drift, imperceptibly at first, clear of the dock.

The missing citizens had only minutes to make an appearance.

Problematically, since there was no daily or weekly, or any meaningful or trustworthy roll call of any kind within the Concession – it was a civilian trading entity, not an armed camp or prison, after all – there had been no way of knowing precisely how many people there were to be evacuated and by now, surely, some of the Dominican domestic staff, many of whom would have been regime spies, within the Concession, must have reported that something funny was going on…