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So Close Yet So Far
August 5, 1914. HMCS Rainbow, coast off British Columbia.
Off the now too familiar bridge wing, Commander Hose could just about begin to spy the inner works of Esquimalt through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Part of him had not expected to ever see British Columbia again but with the changing of his fortunes somewhat, perhaps this would not be the last time. Magazines topped up with 100 lb Lyddite shells would allow Rainbow’s 6”/40 guns to wreak havoc on any German cruiser. High explosive shells would likely fair poorly against the armored decks of his enemies but to all of the irreplaceable equipment on deck and just inside the ships hull, such shells could quickly end the future career of a raider. Even if his ship went down without taking his enemy with them, perhaps the accumulated damage would spare British Columbia from a rampage. Pushing those somewhat melancholy thoughts aside, Hose allowed himself a small smirk as he watched skyward, the setting sun throwing it’s early evening hue across everything in sight.
“Sir, message from NSHQ.”
Hose broke his gaze from the horizon as he turned to the runner, “Let us see it then lad.”
As the runner saluted and quickly left the bridge wings, Hose clutched the piece of paper in his hands.
“Received from Admiralty. Nurnburg and Leipzig reported August 4th off Magdalena Bay steering north. Do your utmost to protect Algerine and Shearwater steering north from San Diego. Remember Nelson and the British Navy. All Canada is watching.”
Hose read the message. He read it again, twice and then a third time once more. The less rational part of his brain contemplated crumpling the piece of paper in his hand and launching it out into the strait, it certainly would have made the old sailor feel better, as unbecoming an action as it would be. His patience was quickly approaching its breaking point, one man could only take so much abuse. To be so close to one of the only things potentially allowing him to die something approaching a satisfactory death, only to have it snatched away by the powers that be. It was completely clear why Captain J. D. D. Stewart had departed from the service in the first place, such neglect was not found out of place regarding a flea bitten stray dog, let alone a naval officer. As much as he enjoyed basking in the self pity and indignance of his situation, Hose’s mind wondered to the second half of the massage. HMS Algerine and Shearwater had both been operating off Mexico with a multinational task force days before yet now the pair of ships scramble home under threat of Leipzig’s mighty guns.
He could not help but feel guilty about his previous thoughts. He knew both ships commanding officers as well, Commander Trousdale of Shearwater in particular was a keen pistol marksman and quite often invited Hose out to the firing range to practice. Hose was never much of a sharpshooter himself but the brimming enthusiasm of Trousdale's company always seemed to brighten his day. He stood here and complained while these men and their crews fought against the seas in their outdated sloops to make it home. Rainbow had definitely seen better days herself however this pair of sloops had originally been fitted with rigging for sails, a paltry speed that even Rainbow could beat and a rather pathetic armament of short barreled 4” guns. Such ships would be easy prey for a cruiser like Leipzig, even a ship such as Rainbow could put them on the bottom rather decisively. If nothing else, Hose decided, he would follow his orders and ensure the safety of these ships. Even with that being said though, the ending of the message had been rather blunt.
‘All Canada is watching? They had better avert their eyes quite soon.’ Hose thought to himself as he turned from the wing into the bridge itself.
“Navigator, bring her around and set a course for San Francisco. Have all lookouts keep their eyes open for HMS Algerine and Shearwater. Helmsman, I want 3/5th power on the engines once our course is properly plotted.”
With the prompt acknowledgement of his orders followed by Rainbow’s tired rudder heeling around once again, Hose departed the bridge for his cabin. Without the shells and having not topped up his coal, his options for staying combat effective were limited. NSHQ had assured him days ago that the United States did not prohibit belligerents such as himself from coaling in her ports, which was positive as he had credit for arranged for 500 tons of coal waiting in San Francisco. That being said, Leipzig was also a belligerent and could utilize the same role just as well. Catching the enemy cruiser in port coaling would be a boon but alternatively, the same could befall himself. Placating the United States was an utmost priority, offending their neutrality in any way was surely career suicide if he was not already dead in the meantime. No matter, the weary old salt needed some time alone to rest his head and try to think of some strategy in these trying times. If he was to throw their lives away for King and Country, he would prefer it be on best possible terms if at all.
HMS Shearwater departing Esquimalt sometime before WWI. Her outdated arrangement of masts and rather unintimidating silhouette was rather fitting for a ship largely designed to colonial patrols and peacekeeping duties.
Off the now too familiar bridge wing, Commander Hose could just about begin to spy the inner works of Esquimalt through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Part of him had not expected to ever see British Columbia again but with the changing of his fortunes somewhat, perhaps this would not be the last time. Magazines topped up with 100 lb Lyddite shells would allow Rainbow’s 6”/40 guns to wreak havoc on any German cruiser. High explosive shells would likely fair poorly against the armored decks of his enemies but to all of the irreplaceable equipment on deck and just inside the ships hull, such shells could quickly end the future career of a raider. Even if his ship went down without taking his enemy with them, perhaps the accumulated damage would spare British Columbia from a rampage. Pushing those somewhat melancholy thoughts aside, Hose allowed himself a small smirk as he watched skyward, the setting sun throwing it’s early evening hue across everything in sight.
“Sir, message from NSHQ.”
Hose broke his gaze from the horizon as he turned to the runner, “Let us see it then lad.”
As the runner saluted and quickly left the bridge wings, Hose clutched the piece of paper in his hands.
“Received from Admiralty. Nurnburg and Leipzig reported August 4th off Magdalena Bay steering north. Do your utmost to protect Algerine and Shearwater steering north from San Diego. Remember Nelson and the British Navy. All Canada is watching.”
Hose read the message. He read it again, twice and then a third time once more. The less rational part of his brain contemplated crumpling the piece of paper in his hand and launching it out into the strait, it certainly would have made the old sailor feel better, as unbecoming an action as it would be. His patience was quickly approaching its breaking point, one man could only take so much abuse. To be so close to one of the only things potentially allowing him to die something approaching a satisfactory death, only to have it snatched away by the powers that be. It was completely clear why Captain J. D. D. Stewart had departed from the service in the first place, such neglect was not found out of place regarding a flea bitten stray dog, let alone a naval officer. As much as he enjoyed basking in the self pity and indignance of his situation, Hose’s mind wondered to the second half of the massage. HMS Algerine and Shearwater had both been operating off Mexico with a multinational task force days before yet now the pair of ships scramble home under threat of Leipzig’s mighty guns.
He could not help but feel guilty about his previous thoughts. He knew both ships commanding officers as well, Commander Trousdale of Shearwater in particular was a keen pistol marksman and quite often invited Hose out to the firing range to practice. Hose was never much of a sharpshooter himself but the brimming enthusiasm of Trousdale's company always seemed to brighten his day. He stood here and complained while these men and their crews fought against the seas in their outdated sloops to make it home. Rainbow had definitely seen better days herself however this pair of sloops had originally been fitted with rigging for sails, a paltry speed that even Rainbow could beat and a rather pathetic armament of short barreled 4” guns. Such ships would be easy prey for a cruiser like Leipzig, even a ship such as Rainbow could put them on the bottom rather decisively. If nothing else, Hose decided, he would follow his orders and ensure the safety of these ships. Even with that being said though, the ending of the message had been rather blunt.
‘All Canada is watching? They had better avert their eyes quite soon.’ Hose thought to himself as he turned from the wing into the bridge itself.
“Navigator, bring her around and set a course for San Francisco. Have all lookouts keep their eyes open for HMS Algerine and Shearwater. Helmsman, I want 3/5th power on the engines once our course is properly plotted.”
With the prompt acknowledgement of his orders followed by Rainbow’s tired rudder heeling around once again, Hose departed the bridge for his cabin. Without the shells and having not topped up his coal, his options for staying combat effective were limited. NSHQ had assured him days ago that the United States did not prohibit belligerents such as himself from coaling in her ports, which was positive as he had credit for arranged for 500 tons of coal waiting in San Francisco. That being said, Leipzig was also a belligerent and could utilize the same role just as well. Catching the enemy cruiser in port coaling would be a boon but alternatively, the same could befall himself. Placating the United States was an utmost priority, offending their neutrality in any way was surely career suicide if he was not already dead in the meantime. No matter, the weary old salt needed some time alone to rest his head and try to think of some strategy in these trying times. If he was to throw their lives away for King and Country, he would prefer it be on best possible terms if at all.
HMS Shearwater departing Esquimalt sometime before WWI. Her outdated arrangement of masts and rather unintimidating silhouette was rather fitting for a ship largely designed to colonial patrols and peacekeeping duties.
- RelativeGalaxy7
- Word Count: 930