Vortex

A final report was more immediate.

“Electronic Warfare module reports a

J-band radar bearing zero nine five.”

Probably a gunfire control radar, Malloy thought. The bearing was consistent with the mountain. Well, he hadn’t really expected to catch them napping.

Malloy watched the clock. Three and a half minutes after he’d ordered general quarters, the talker reported, “All stations manned and ready.

Damage control reports condition zebra set throughout the ship. ” They were ready, all right. Clearing for action usually took five minutes or more. Still, his crew was helping him look good in front of the general.

Malloy needed to take control of the ship’s movements.

“This is the captain. I have the deck and the conn. Navigator, what’s the range to

Green Point?”

“Twentyfive point four miles to Green Point, sir, twenty eight point two to Table Mountain. Recommend we come right three degrees to zero nine seven true.”

“Very.well. Helm, come right to zero nine seven.” Malloy turned to the 21MC intercom and pressed the button that allowed him to talk to the combat information center.

“Harry, tell our screen to split off as planned. “

The radio speaker came to life as his coded signal was transmitted. The

Wisconsin’s screen of three frigates and two destroyers normally surrounded her, protecting the battleship from air and submarine attack.

They wouldn’t be able to help with this job, though, and some of them couldn’t even keep up with the battleship at top speed.

As his escorts turned away, Malloy ordered, “All engines ahead flank.”

The four ships of the Iowa class were rated at thirty-three knots, but his engineers had promised him thirty-five, and the captain believed them. He planned to close on Table Mountain at high speed, firing as soon as his ship came within maximum range. There wasn’t any point in messing about. Malloy wanted to go in fast, hit the Boers hard, and get it over with.

Even the weather was helping. The sea was relatively smooth, with waves no more than four feet high and the wind at less than fifteen knots-conditions the Navy labeled Sea State Three. They wouldn’t interfere with the big ship’s progress or rock the vessel beyond the capabilities of its gun stabilizers.

Malloy stepped out on the bridge wing and looked aft. Four sleek warships, tiny when compared to his battlewagon, were falling away behind. One ship remained. USS Scott, a Kiddclass guided-missile destroyer, would fall in astern and to seaward of the Wisconsin-to protect her from air attack while she worked. Picked for her high speed,

Scott had five inch guns that couldn’t possibly reach Table Mountain, so she’d just have to wait and watch.

The navigator reported, “Range to Green Point is twenty one point two miles. On course.”

Table Mountain was a little under three miles from Green Point, which showed up clearly on radar and thus made a better place from which to mark the ship’s position. Table Mountain’s guns, if intelligence reports could be believed, had a range of twenty-one and a half miles.

The Wisconsin’s current course took her straight toward the mountain. On this heading, her rear turret, one-third of her firepower, could not be brought to bear. When she was in range, Malloy planned to turn his ship’s bow thirty degrees to one side. That would bring the aft turret into play, while still letting the Wisconsin continue to close with her target. Anytime enemy fire got too hot, he would put the ship’s rudder over-” tacking” to the other side of her base course, continuing to close.

A fountain of white and gray water erupted to port, almost drowning out the navigator’s latest report.

“Range twenty one point five miles. ” The shell burst was close, no more than a hundred yards away.

Right on the money, Malloy thought. He was in the maddening position of being outranged by a six-inch-gun shore battery. It was time to give them a harder target.

“Left standard rudder. Steady on course zero eight eight.”

At thirty-plus knots, the eight-hundred-and-ninety-foot

ship responded quickly to its helm. She would never be as nimble as a destroyer or a frigate, but Malloy loved his ship’s feel as she lumed.

The rules were simple. Head toward the last shell splash so that the enemy’s corrections would move his next shot off target Occasionally make small turns, since they might not be noticed and the enemy might assume you were still on your old course. Finally, stay off the cardinal points of the compass, since that might let an enemy guess your course.

At least running through standard tactics kept his mind busy while he waited for the next ranging shot. Time of flight at this range was almost a full minute-a fact that gave every potential target plenty of time to think about the next salvo between corrections.

A second shell splash appeared, this time to starboard, and closer. Malloy waited approximately twenty seconds, then ordered, “Right full rudder, steady on course one two six.”