News and Stories from the Vilnius Union

[The Rock Doctor]

January 17, 1919

As the sun rose, Ulan was lumbering west at nineteen knots - almost a knot shy of her theoretical best, but also a knot or two faster than the chief engineer thought the old girl could actually accomplish.

Conditions down below were not far short of hellish.  Teams of men - not just stokers, but also much of the ship's gunnery department - were working on two hour shifts, feeding coal to the boilers while temperatures progressively rose throughout.  Already there'd been a few cases of heat stroke, the casualties taken up to the aft deck to lie on weather-beaten teak with a fresh, salty breeze coming off the port bow.  More would be coming, no doubt.

"New transmission from the Irena Chychla," a runner reported, bringing a hand-printed message to the chart table."

Cech took the sheet and read aloud:  "Unable to control fires.  Am launching lifeboats with women and children aboard."

The ship's XO looked out at the blue-grey waves around Ulan.  "There's worse seas and worse temperatures for it, no doubt.  Question is whether they've got enough boats in the first place."

"Probably don't," Cech replied.  There'd been debates about regulating lifeboat capacity in the merchant marine for...well, since he'd been a lowly podchorazy on his first day in uniform.  Thus far, the industry - unwilling to spend "unnecessary" money on "unnecessary" boats that took up valuable space on perfectly safe ships - had won out.  "Thank you, Mister Kolchak.  Our status is unchanged:  We are proceeding at our best speed and expect to be in sight in about four to five hours."

"Aye, sir," the runner said, saluting before spinning on a heel and departing.

"Alright, so we've got one or more possible merchies to the west and south, possibly closer but certainly slower.  And we've apparently got a new Aztec cruiser of the line responding," Cech murmured, eying the map laid out on the table.  "If she's as fast as the Intel Bureau reckons, she'll make up the distance quickly but she's still a fair ways away."

"Green crew or not, I like the idea of having another big hull on the scene," the XO said.

"Likewise," Cech said.  "Let's give the crew another...hour, say.  Then we'll start deploying the firehoses and checking the pumps, getting the boats ready, and preparing to take on survivors.  I want to know where we've got problems while we've still got some time to act on them."

"Aye-" the XO started, and Ulan shuddered/rumbled.  One, twice, three, four and five times in quick succession, abrupt enough that Cech had to grab the edge of the table to steady himself.

"Contact Engineering," Cech barked.  "I want to know what that was."

"We're losing speed, Sir," the helmsman reported.  "Applying rudder, Sir, think we might've lost the port-side shaft."

[Desertfox]

Some story appropriate music...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwRHTy4WCQs

[The Rock Doctor]

If you'd linked me to My Heart Will Go On, I'd have issued a declaration of war.

But that, I'll listen to later.

[TacCovert4]

January 17th, 1919...60 miles further out than the Ulan.

Spray flew over the bow of HMS Revenge as she pounded through the Atlantic swells, electric motors thrumming as her long hull hurtles through the water at just over thirty one knots. 

Captain Usem sat in his chair, now on his third cup of coffee for the day, the salt spray making it highly uncomfortable to stand on the bridge railings.  Fortunately, he thought, the new "Queen Fatima's Mansions" installed on the newer Aztec ships meant that the bridge crew had a large protected bridge for a shirt sleeve environment no matter the weather.

"Sir, messages from the freighter and the Vilnius cruiser, she's the Ulan sir"

"Go ahead" Usem says, snapping out of his momentary reverie. 

"Yes sir, The Ulan is doing nineteen knots and she can't be more than two hours ahead.  She relayed the liner's call as well.  The fires are out of control and they are launching boats with the women and children aboard.  Sounds like they are abandoning ship."

Captain Usem stood up and paced a moment before turning to his helmsman  "Ring the Chief Engineer, tell him to give me everything she's got."  "Sir, she can't have much more, we're already at flank" the watch officer spoke up.  Captain Usem looked grim "Don't spare the turbogenerators, this has gone from rendering some aid to a rescue, we have over two hundred miles to clear."  The watch officer rushed to the handset.

Turning to the wireless rating, he says "Message Ulan and the liner that we will reach the liner within eight hours.  Then message the outer gates and request assistance with a rescue, give the coordinates.  Tell them that we will be in need of some fuel as well if fleet wishes us to continue our scheduled trip." 

A half hour later, the wireless rating returns, having received a reply.  "Sir, word from Grand Turk on the wireless.  Escapade has been dispatched from her patrol route to assist at her best speed.  And Martinique is scrambling Humpback out of port."  Usem sighed.  The E-class destroyer had the legs, but the mid-sized fleet tender could probably reach them sooner, having been designed with long steaming at 24 knots in mind.  "When they reach us, we can move the passengers and crew of the liner to Humpback if the Ulan does not have sufficient space."

Turning to the watch officer, Usem says "Make sure the crew gets fed two hours prior to our arrival, then have them prepare the boats and firefighting gear.  Take care not to lose any men overboard while we're hard steaming.  Inform the Chief Steward that I want blankets, spare clothes, and hot food and coffee prepared as well as hammocks strung in the unused messing spaces.  And inform the surgeon that we are likely to have hypothermia and burn injuries.  I will take breakfast in the Officer's Mess and be in my office until we get closer to the liner".

[Desertfox]

Those are brand new turbogenerators... Lets hope we dont end up with a bunch of broken down ships in the middle of the ocean. Anyone have fleet tugs available?

[The Rock Doctor]

Maybe in North Erika or Amsterdam. 

The Union might have to re-think what it's keeping in places like the Azores.

[The Rock Doctor]

17 January 1919

Ulan had plowed on at fifteen knots, running her starboard shaft at full power and straining her rudder to maintain her intended heading.  Komandor Cech had been below to look at the damage on the port side and concurred with the chief engineer's assessment that it was, as he said, "fucked".  There had been nothing to do but keep burning coal and hope that nothing else failed in the next few hours.

And nothing had.  Yet.

It was an hour later than he'd hoped for, but the Irena Chychla was in sight now, fine on the port bow, oblique to Ulan.  Through his binoculars, Cech could see that she was burning fiercely astern, perhaps a third of her length overall.  On the other hand, she looked to have weathervaned, which might have inhibited the fire's spread forward.  "We have a lot of people on the foredeck," he called out.  "Watch for activity on the bridge.  Lights, flags."

"Several boats in the water, Sir.  To port and starboard."

"Ring for ahead one quarter.  Extra look-outs forward so we don't run any down," Cech said.  He swung his binoculars around to the north, where a plume of smoke towered above the approaching Revenge.  "She's coming in hard," he noted.

"If she isn't above thirty knots, I'm a turnip farmer, Sir," one of the petty officers remarked.  "Quite the bone in her teeth."

"Agreed," Cech said.  "Quick survey, gentlemen:  We've got people in boats and people aboard the liner.  Seas are reasonable, I'm not too worried about the boats.  I want to get everybody off the liner.  Do I stand off and receive swimmers, or do I go alongside?"

"Water's cold but not immediately lethal.  Trained and prepared swimmers could handle these conditions long enough to swim across," the XO said.  "But some of those civilians probably aren't trained and prepared swimmers."

"Safer to let out the ship's boats and have them transfer across in groups, Sir," the Chief of the Ship said. 

"Safer, Chief, but it could be slow.  Looks like there are hundreds still aboard," the navigator noted.

"They don't have any nets out for climbing down," the XO observed. 

"I'd recommend we work with the boats, Sir," the Chief reiterated.

"Understood," Cech said.  He did understand that perspective.  He also had an unsettled feeling that the situation aboard the liner might be more dire than they could see from here.  Temperature differences below water might crack or deform her hull.  Something flammable or explosive might be in her holds.  The fire might be closer to the bow, below deck, than was readily apparent.  "Wireless, signal the Revenge.  Our compliments and request they direct rescue of the lifeboats.  Indicate we will rendezvous with the liner."

"Aye, sir."

"Signals:  Flash morse to the liner that we are coming alongside and to prepare to receiving mooring lines.  I want eyes focused on her for a visual response of some kind."

"Aye, sir."

"XO:  We're going alongside.  They'll have to jump aboard.  You've got about fifteen minutes to ready the port side.  Bumpers, mattresses, nets, whatever.  Gunnery:  Secure the portside secondary battery and put your men at the XO's disposal.  Chief:  Take charge aft, try to get some hoses on the leading edge of the fire.  Buy us a bit of time and watch for signs the liner might go suddenly."

"Sir!"

[TacCovert4]

January 17th, 1919

"Ship Ho" the lookout called as HMS Revenge powered through the water, her indicated speed showing just above thirty two knots.  Captain Usem thought about what sort of strains he had caused the virgin turboelectric drive system, and the private dressing down the chief engineer would be giving him tonight after the survey.  He looked out with binoculars to see a number of boats in the water, and the venerable Vilnius cruiser slowly maneuvering towards the burning liner.

"All stop on outer shafts, inner shafts slow reverse.  Lookouts to the bow, we don't want to hit any of the boats."

"Sir, the Ulan requests that we rescue those already in the water, with compliments"

"Very well, once we've slowed, launch boats.  Gun crews to throw cargo netting and assist those who can climb from their own boats up."

The big Razee closed quickly on the scene, even with her shafts stopped and her engines being secured from their high speed run, you don't stop a ship this size in a hurry.  As she passed through fifteen knots, a lookout shouted into the intercom.  "Boat close aboard starboard!"  The helmsman turned hard to port, and succeeded in not hitting the lifeboat that had ambitiously rowed directly for the Revenge.  But the coaming bow wave caught the lifeboat in irons and she capsized anyway.  "Boat capsized, people in the water!" the lookout called, and life rings were hurled off the deck of the razee, still too fast to launch its own boats.  The suction alongside the over two hundred meters of vessel pulled the capsized boat in, and it splintered as it was crushed, one woman hanging onto the boat caught onto a thrown line and was hauled bodily aboard by the crew of B turret.

As HMS Revenge slowed through to ten knots, Captain Usem nodded to his watch officer.  "The bosun is clear to launch his boats.  Get the survivors from the capsized lifeboat first, and organize the other lifeboats to come alongside once we've stopped for recovery."  He watches the Ulan closing and mutters "they're going alongside" as he sees the crowd still on the deck of the burning liner.  "Helm, bring us up on the liner's aft quarter at about fifty meters, slow.  Mister Atcazuma, fire crews to their stations and put some water on that blaze as we come up, let's help buy the Ulan time to evacuate, but we're not going to risk burning ourselves."

The Revenge sluggishly eased forward, lifeboats already tied off to her flanks and passengers clambering up nets and ladders to get aboard.  Fire crews rushed forward of A turret with lengths of firehose and stands, preparing to set up several attack lines to cool the burning liner.

[The Rock Doctor]

Present circumstances notwithstanding, two decades of naval experience had an inner voice screaming at Cech to throw the rudder hard over.  Instead, he watched the Irena Chychla draw ever closer, until thick smoke began to billow across Ulan's bow.  "Ring for all stop!" he barked.

"All stop, aye!" the helmsman repeated, and then the smoke was blowing through the bridge as it drew even with the liner's burning stern, just metres to port. 

Cech coughed, eyes watering from the acrid fumes, and then they were clear again.  "Ring for reverse!  Rudder over!  Prepare to throw lines!"

Metal screeched and groaned as Ulan's armored bow contacted the liner's starboard side and scraped along her hull.  Down on the foredeck, men threw lines across the narrow gap to counterparts on the Chychla.  "Ahead low - keep turning into her!" Cech ordered, and Ulan continued to push against Chychla while the liner's crew wound hawsers around capstans and tried to lash the ships' bows and foresections together.  "Ring for stop and standby!"

Ulan's forecastle was about a metre lower than the liner's, and the ships' bobbing on the swells alternately increased and reduced the difference.  On the liner, men were starting to surge forward, but Ulan's marines waved at them with the butts of unloaded rifles.  "NOW HEAR THIS!" the XO called though a megaphone.  "WE'RE DOING THIS CALM AND WE'RE DOING THIS EASY.  ONE AT A TIME, ACROSS THE GANGPLANKS, WHEN YOU'RE TOLD.  FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS ONCE ABOARD.  IF YOU RUSH ACROSS, IF YOU TRY TO JUMP, YOU'RE LIABLE TO FALL BETWEEN THE SHIPS AND THEN YOU'RE DONE.  GOT IT?  GOOD."

Seamen had chained the gangways to both ships and the passages rose from a diagonal position to near-horizontal and back each time Ulan rose up and came down relative to Chychla.  Four marines scurried across in two pairs as the gangways approached horizontal.  Chychla's crew were organizing the two lines.

"Right!" a marine sierzant said, loudly yet almost conversationally, "Like the man said, one at a time per gangway.  Ready yourself here.    When I say go, you fucking go at a run.  Don't worry about the gangplank moving, don't worry about falling on the other side, they'll pull you out of the way.  Soon as the man in front of you moves, you step up and you wait for me again!  If you're not ready, don't go, wait for the next round, but don't fuck it up for everybody else, got it!?"

The young fellow at the front of one line replied, "Yeah!" and the other nodded.

The sierzant turned and watched the rise and fall of the two ships, getting a sense of the timing.  "Step up!  Ready!  GO!" he shouted over the banging and clanging of moving steel.

The first evacuees scrambled across as the gangways were rising to horizontal then beginning to fall away again.  Waiting seamen caught them as they stumbled down to Ulan's deck and others pulled them away, where they'd be directed amidships.

Cech watched the first few shuttles from the portside wing, then turned aft to assess firefighting efforts as the Chief of the Ship directed hoses from the quarterdeck and portside.  The ships weren't touching astern, which was just as well, but even from here he could feel the heat from the blaze.  "Mister Strakovski, I want temperatures monitored in the port-side one hundred millimeter lockers.  Gunners should be on standby to move ammunition to starboard if we start getting too hot."

"Aye sir!"

"And I want a team on standby with a scuttling charge.  We might end up speeding up her demise."

"Aye, sir!"

[TacCovert4]

Captain Usem stood out on the flying bridge, his prow barely visible in the haze of smoke from the burning liner as his fire crews launched streams of water across the gap to try to cool the blaze.  He was most worried about a boiler explosion taking the liner apart before Ulan could offload her, and the resulting damage to his vessel from splinters.  He walked around to the starboard side and observed hundreds of people, women and children mostly, climbing nets or being hauled up on the hull painting gantry a few at a time from their lifeboats.  His own chief bosun stood in the bow of one of Revenge's motor launches, directing the lifeboats in an orderly fashion while his other motor launches recovered people in the water.  and towed lifeboats who couldn't row themselves effectively. 

On the deck, gun crews assisted in guiding the frigid survivors below to the mess decks where stewards were furiously boiling pots of coffee and making hot tortillas.  Those with obvious injuries were directed to a different hatchway, towards sickbay, where the surgeon was busy assessing and treating. 

Captain Usem watched the Ulan's crew do the more dangerous task, not envying the heat that they were operating under trying to rescue those still on deck.  His own boats were prepared to take off those who chose to jump into the frigid Atlantic instead, and quite a number were now that help had arrived.

[The Rock Doctor]

"I don't recommend it, Komandor!" Chychla's captain shouted from his ship.  "There's no power, it's dark, there's smoke.  It could be dangerous for your men!"

Cech pondered that as the evacuation continued on the foredeck.  "She's a hazard to navigation, Sir.  I don't want to leave her adrift if she stays afloat for any length of time."

"She's not going to last much longer as it is," the master replied.  "It's moving through the bunkers.  Something's going to crack or deform if it hasn't already."

"Alright, fine!" Cech called.  "We've got the oldest and youngest aboard.  We won't be much longer!"

Some of the other men hadn't waited their turn at the gangways, removing their shoes and shirts and jumping overboard for a short swim to the Revenge or her boats.  It sounded like at least one of those jumpers hadn't actually re-surfaced but there was nothing Cech could do about that.  Near as he could tell, they had around one hundred to one hundred fifty men left, virtually all crew, and that was the focus.

Chychla'd master waved.  "I've got to take one last look where I can!" he shouted, turning aft.

"You're not staying behind, are you?"

"No!" the master blurted.  "Hell, no!  I've lost men today but...I'm not joining them.  Just...making sure there's nobody else."

"Alright!" Cech called.  "Don't be long.  We'll have a drink when this is over."

The master nodded but continued toward the forward superstructure, where wisps of black smoke were beginning to stream from cracked portholes.  He stepped through an open hatch and disappeared inside.

Cech sighed and turned his focus back to the evacuation.  "Tell the munitions team to stand down and secure their equipment in the armory," he called out. 

"Aye, sir!"

Somewhere aft, something groaned and crashed.  Cech spun around to peer into the smoke, but he didn't see any immediate signs that the liner was going down. 

"XO's compliments, Sir, and he reports one hundred crew remaining aboard the Chychla.  He estimates twelve minutes to complete the evacuation."

"Thank you," Cech replied.  One of Revenge's hoses was now playing on Chychla's forward superstructure, not far aft from where her master had vanished.  "Ask him to make haste if he can.  Advise the bosun to have our boats at the ready in case we run out of time."

"Aye, sir."

And Chychla's master re-appeared, scuttling forward with a surprisingly mellow, grey cat pinned to his chest.  Eight minutes later, they would be the last living souls to depart the Irena Chychla. 

"Advise the XO to cast off.  Sparks, signal to Revenge that the evacuation is completed and we are casting off.  Request Revenge steer north from the Chychla and advise that I intend to scuttle the wreck with a torpedo when Revenge is well clear," Cech directed.

"Aye, sir."  Down on the foredeck, the gangplanks were pulled inboard and seamen began chopping the hawsers binding the two ships together.  The severed ends were hauled aboard and wound aboard Ulan's capstans.

"XO reports ship cast off, Sir."

"Very good," Cech said.  "Helm, ring for half power reverse and maintain rudder.  Take us astern, then bring us parallel at five hundred yards separation.  Sound the horn, five intervals.  We'll give the old girl our final regards before we put her down."

Ulan's horn bellowed as her armored prow inched away from the liner's battered bow.  Aft, the hoses shifted to play across Ulan's own port side, cooling hot steel.  Forward, Hans slipped a mug into the free hand of Chychla's master while the cat serenely surveyed its new environs. 

Ulan withdrew through the smoke once more, and when she cleared it again, Cech could see that the liner was down by the stern, her rearmost quarter reduced to a smouldering mess while the fire continued its gradual march forward.  "Sparks, an uncoded transmission to all ships, relay our coordinates, advise that the Irena Chychla has been evacuated and will be scuttled."

"Aye, Sir."

"Guns, advise the port torpedo flat to load one torpedo, set for four metres running depth, and await instructions."

[TacCovert4]

Receiving the message from Ulan, Captain Usem nods.  "How goes the evacuation?" he says to the lieutenant watch officer.  "Three lifeboats left and then our four motor launches.  The lifeboats are being tied up alongside our starboard flank now."  "Any more in the water?"  "No sir, the bosun's doing one last lap in his launch to make sure we have all survivors"

Captain Usem looks over the starboard rail of his flying bridge, better than a dozen meters above the water, and spies three lifeboats tied up below.  His own motor launches not so much of a concern as their well drilled crews and engines made recovering them a merely academic affair on the davits.  "Helm, ahead slow, get us steerageway and make your course due North.  Ulan's captain intends to scuttle the liner by torpedo and I'd like to be well in the clear."

A couple of minutes pass as the length of the light battlecruiser, a Razee in Aztec parlance for its role as a patrolling cruiser and hunter-killer of cruisers and other similar ships and not a ship capable of the battle line, ponderously turns to the North, until finally the lines of the three lifeboats are cut away and the arrow wakes of the four motor launches close on their davits.  The moment the last motor launch leaves the water, the watch officer signals Captain Usem, "All survivors aboard sir, launches in the davits"

"Very well. Ahead one third, get us some more clearance", the hum of electric motors and generators responds as Revenge powers away, a number of the survivors drinking coffee on the quarterdeck as they watch their burning vessel with most of their possessions pass to the rear by now a kilometer.  To the side, the Ulan is closer, maybe six hundred meters, and the more skilled eyes of Aztec sailors note that she has maneuvered into torpedo position on the fore quarter of the stricken vessel.  The horn of the Vilnius cruiser blasts, and again, and again. 

"Lieutenant, fire a saluting charge on the forward lee AA gun" Captain Usem says calmly, and the watch officer rushes out with a few men to the AA gun designated for saluting purposes, loading one of the reduced powder charges before firing with a puff of smoke and an audible but not ear shattering roar.

The chief bosun makes his way to the bridge.  "Sir, my men report three hundred and twenty two souls saved from the boats and the water.  Five are in surgery for severe burns, the Surgeon said that he is too busy to hazard a guess as to whether they will last the day.  Another Eighteen with severe but manageable burns are in sickbay, those with minor ailments or hypothermia are being helped in the forward mess"  Captain Usem nods.  "Comm, signal the Ulan, we have 322 souls aboard.  Find out if they require any medical assistance for the ones they have, I'd guess that we have a larger sickbay and more spaces to convert if necessary.  And find out if we will remain here or rendezvous elsewhere.  Helm, steady on course until we receive a reply, let's keep the ship nice and comfortable for our guests"

[The Rock Doctor]

21 January 1919

Komandor Cech was relieved that his authority ended at the bottom of the gangplanks, because the scene at Ponta Delgada's harbour was pretty chaotic just now.  Hundreds of men, women, and children disembarking from Ulan and Revenge were milling about the port's largest pier, pointedly ignoring the pleas of local authorities to just follow the plan and proceed to such and such facilities for processing.  They were, instead, shouting and calling for spouses and parents and children and generally bringing most other proceedings - such as potentially refueling Revenge - to a standstill.

Watching from the starboard wing, he reflected that the death toll could have been a lot worse.  Seven of the liner's engine gang had succumbed to smoke before fire-fighting efforts had been abandoned, two more had died of their injuries aboard Ulan, and one had died in the evacuation, diving into the water to swim to Revenge and never coming up again.  Eight passengers were known to have died, and another eleven were missing.  Twenty-nine total.  "Thank God she wasn't at capacity," he muttered. 

"Three quarters was enough, Sir," the XO said, sipping at brandy-spiked coffee.  "I think Revenge had it much better than we did."

"Bigger, newer ship, I imagine she did," Cech agreed.  "Nice looking ship, though.  We should take a few photos before we part ways."

"Mister Slobowski has a very nice camera, I'll have a word with him."

"Excellent," Cech.  "Now, I've sent off a request for a few days here, just to give the men a bit of a chance to blow off some steam.   Headquarters might even agree.  That said, we'll need to inspect the hull for significant damage, and then regardless, I want painting crews organized.  We are going to look proper when we arrive at Gdansk."

"Aye, sir," the XO said.  "Easy enough to get that organized, and coaling on top of that.  I assume we're not going to get the port shaft repaired."

"No, and I've told the Chief Engineer I'd rather he spend the time ensuring that the starboard shaft gets us the rest of the way," Cech nodded.  "That said, I've also suggested that the Werra accompany us partway, and that somebody come down from Amsterdam to join us for the rest of the cruise, just in case.  Again, Headquarters might even agree.  And then there's the matter of sending a gift of some sort over to the Revenge.  I was thinking the contents of my wine rack, but I'm not actually sure if they drink or not."

"I've no idea, Sir," the XO said.  "But I do have a suggestion for something of more significance."


*****


At 1700 hours, when the civilians had been herded off to their temporary accommodations and the crew of the Irena Chychla guided to a warehouse to send the night, a small procession made its way from the bridge of Ulan.  Consisting of the ship's band, a dozen marines in former dress, the ship's XO and the Chief Petty Officer, it was led by Komandor Cech down the gangplank, along the pier and to the nearest gangplank leading up to the Revenge. 

"Good afternoon," Cech said, returning the Aztec sentries' salutes with his right hand while grasping a cavalryman's lance in his left.  "My compliments to your commanding officer.  We request permission to come aboard."

[TacCovert4]

Captain Usem finally sighed relief.  The past few days had been spent with furious dispatches home, making arrangements for fueling as well as sending Escapade back to her regular patrol route off the Caicos, though notes had been made to have patrolling ships work closer to the sealanes and deeper into the Atlantic after this near disastrous affair.  Even a small ship like Escapade would be better than nothing and could provide proper firefighting support and at least temporarily carry most of the passengers and crew of a liner, even if it would be beyond uncomfortable.  The Diplomatic Corps had become involved as well, Minister Asad's baliwick no doubt seeing an opportunity to improve the Aztec image abroad and with a powerful trading partner.  HMS Humpback had continued on to the Azores and would arrive in a few days, and after dumping three quarters of her fuel stocks and restocking supplies onboard Revenge, she would have substantial space available, which he was to offer to any passengers who wished to continue to the new world by way of Martinique, with the Sultanate's compliments. 

The scene at the dock had been pandemonium, as women and children, separated from their husbands and fathers for days, had rushed the gangplanks, and he had almost resorted to the Seal Warriors to restore order on his own decks.  It was to be expected, if not necessary.  Even docking HMS Revenge had been a task, the Wilno tugs being good to the job, but the Razee was obviously longer than most Vilnius warships, and took up the largest berth in Ponta Delgada with twenty meters of her stern still out in the harbor as a navigation hazard.  The berth opposite her was clear, which was good and had been ensured to be clear for Humpback.  Refueling ship to ship was still a new affair and doing so in a calm harbor would take something usually moderately hazardous and make it merely tedious.

The officer of the watch headed aft, and a rating came up to the captain.  "Sir, a number of officers and men from the Ulan are requesting permission to come aboard"  Captain Usem sighs again, in the hectic day he had managed to forget that he should invite his counterparts to dinner.  "I presume the watch officer is on his way to welcome them?" he says with eyebrow raised.  "Um, yes sir."  "Good, have the cook prepare a spread, finger foods at this hour, for my cabin.  And break out the Tequila from my Cabin.  Oh, and tell the Chief Steward I said an extra ration of tequila for the men, but they are to be on their best behavior if the bosun gives them shore leave."  The rating smiled and saluted crisply before rushing out of the bridge.  "Chief" Usem says to the Engineer's Mate acting as chief of the watch, "the bridge is yours"  "Aye sir" the chief says, watching his captain depart for the Ulan's party before taking his seat in the Captain's chair. 

[The Rock Doctor]

"Company salute!" the marine sierzant barked upon seeing Captain Usem on deck.

Cech and the entire procession came to attention and saluted Usem, holding the gesture until it was returned.

"Captain?  I'm Komandor Anton Cech, commanding OZW Ulan," Cech said.  "May we have a few minutes of your time, please?"