Britannia's Fist 01 Britannia's Fist: From Civil War to World War: An Alternate History by Peter G. Tsouras

Author:Peter G. Tsouras [Tsouras, Peter G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Imaginary Histories, History, International Relations, Great Britain - Foreign Relations - United States, Alternative History, United States - History - Civil War, General, United States, United States - History - 1865-1921, Great Britain, Political Science, War & Military, 1861-1865, Fiction, Civil War Period (1850-1877), United States - Foreign Relations - Great Britain
ISBN: 9781574888232
Publisher: Potomac Books Inc.
Published: 2008-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

8.

Battle at Moelfre Bay

OFF THE MOUTH OF THE MERSEY RIVER, LIVERPOOL BAY, 8:22 AM, SEPTEMBER 4, 1863

Lamson had asked his chief engineer for every bit of speed the engines of the Gettysburg could generate. The word had spread through the crew that the ship was speeding west to pounce on their unsuspecting quarry. The black gangs sprang to their broad shovels with a will to feed the boilers with the good Welsh coal taken aboard at Liverpool. The fires burned hot as the sweat slicked off them in dark, greasy rivulets. Had they been galley rowers in ancient Greece, they themselves would have been the motive engines of their ship, their muscles fed with energy from bread dipped in olive oil. Now the hard coal of Wales replaced muscles to power the world.

Moelfre Bay was just short of forty-five nautical miles from the Mersey’s mouth. Lamson could make it in three hours or a bit less. Gettysburg had taken off like an arrow, leaving Liverpool behind just as she was joined by Goshawk. As it was, Lamson had a barely fifteen-minute head start. The lookout shouted that the British ships were coming directly after them. Lamson could only conclude that they would try to snatch his prey from him. Fox had chosen Gettysburg for her speed, and that speed was the only advantage he had now. Liverpool could do between ten and twelve knots to Gettysburg’s sixteen. That meant they would arrive at Moelfre Bay in about four hours. None of this would mean a damn if North Carolina had already transferred its crew and departed. In that case, he would be following her most likely course to the Azores. There are too many ifs, he thought.1

Two hours and fifty minutes later, the biggest “if” was answered as Gettysburg steamed into Moelfre Bay. The lookout had already reported a few ships in the bay, including a cluster near the shore. It did not take long for Lamson’s glass to reveal that it was North Carolina and several lighters. He slammed the telescope glass shut. “Battle stations, Mr. Porter.” Most of the men were already at their stations, as eager for this prize as the captain was.

It took the crew of the new Confederate ironclad longer to discover the fast steamer racing toward them. When they did, everyone stopped and stared. One of the officers ran up to James Bulloch. “Sir, she’s the Yankee that was in King’s Dock.”

Bulloch was tight lipped while looking through his glass. “So she is. So she is. Well, don’t just stand there. Get the men to the sheets. Tell the engineer to give me full speed.”

“We’ll never make it, sir. Look how fast she is approaching.”

Bulloch turned on him, drawing a pistol. “Now, Mr. Wilson.”2

It did not take long for the Gettysburg’s lookout to spot commotion on the decks of the ironclad. “She’s seen us, Mr. Porter. Prepare to put a shot across her bow.” Lamson had extended his telescope again; he was within range and could see men scurrying to bring sacks and boxes from the lighter tied up to the ironclad.

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