Ganymede (The Clockwork Century 3)

Rucker said, “And they know what it could do, in theory. They were the ones who commissioned the first ones, the Hunley, the Pioneer, and the rest. They know what a difference a craft like this could make in the war, and God knows they’re barely hanging in there these days. They can’t afford to let the Yankees to get this thing, take it apart, and figure out how to make more of them. ”

“You think they could do that?” Cly asked.

“Sure. Within a few months, if they hire a few of us,” he replied, indicating himself, Mumler, and Anderson Worth. “For that matter, if it comes to it … we might just head back North and make a case ourselves. The three of us, plus a couple of others—we might be able to sit down and draw up our own plans. We know it better than anybody else. ”

Deaderick Early agreed, but with reservations. “Of course, if you boys did that … it’d be another year or two at soonest before you had something working. No, this is our best bet for ending things fast. ” He glared down at the map as if he’d rather be looking at something else. “We’ve had trouble enough convincing those damn fools we know our heads from a hole in the ground. But we’ll show them. Once they get a look at the firepower on this thing, and they watch it in action … once they see what it can do…” His voice trailed off, then returned again, stronger. “At any rate, Port Sulphur. That’s the closest dock to Barataria, so it stands to reason that that’s where they diverted traffic. Do you think they’re still doing it? Guiding people away from the big island?”

Deaderick said, “Probably not. They didn’t find the ship and they’ve sent their extra men home, so my guess is that they’ve mostly lost interest in what goes on over there. ”

“I don’t like to work on guesses. ” Cly frowned. “But it looks like we’re stuck between a number of uncertainties. The forts will be dangerous to sneak past. The canal at Port Sulphur might be safer, but it might be crawling with Texians. ”

Deaderick folded his arms, wincing as his shoulder shifted. “Might be, but I doubt it. Last word in from the city has it that there’s just a residual force on staff at the bay, cleaning up and sorting out what’s worth keeping and what’s not. ”

“You think they’ll set up a post there? A fort or something, where the pirates used to camp?” Troost asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe they’ll scavenge for anything they can make use of, and let the place fall to ruin. ”

Cly shook his head. “It won’t fall to ruin. The pirates will take it back. That’s their hometown, their home nation. The only place they have with any history to it. They’ll be back for it. ”

“You say that like you’ve given it some thought yourself,” said Norman Somers, who was back to assist with the big trucks and the winch that would send the Ganymede swinging over into the river. “I’d be pleased to help you, if it means one less square of Louisiana that Texas gets to keep. ”

“Can’t say it didn’t occur to me. Can’t say I wouldn’t like to see it happen. ”

Kirby Troost stuck a match in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “There’s no time like the present, if you want it back. Or that’s the word in the sky. ”

“How would you know?” asked Rucker.

“I got ears all over the place, that’s how. Pirates are going to grab for it, pretty soon. ”

“Who?” Cly asked, interested against his better judgment. “Somebody arranging an operation?”

“Supposedly Henry Shanks is leading point, or that’s how it’s falling into place. He’s got One-Eye Chuck Waverly coming in from the Atlantic coast, and Jimmy Garcia swinging up from the Yucatán. Rumor has it even Sweet Bang Lee is interested in raising some hell. He’s on his way from California with Brigadier Betty and their son. ”

The captain breathed, “Jesus Christ Almighty. That’s one hell of a crowd. Ol’ Hank Shanks is in the lead, is he?”

“That’s what they’re saying. ”

“I can’t imagine anyone else so big that others would follow him. Nobody but Lafitte, and he’s dead—and so are half his grandchildren, or rotting in jail. ”

Deaderick uncrossed his arms and scratched at a sore spot where a bullet wound was healing, and itching. “I’d like to see the pirates reestablish themselves, myself. They took better care of me than they had to, when I was tore up during the raid. But fellows, I believe the conversation has gotten off course again. ”

Cly said, “You’re right, you’re right. ” Then he rattled off the coordinates they’d agreed to—the ones about twenty miles into the Gulf, where Admiral Herman Partridge was waiting on the warship Valiant … until morning, and no longer.

“How long do you think this will take?” Houjin asked. “It’s a long way, isn’t it? How far are we going?”

“All told? Sixty, maybe seventy miles. And you’ll be right behind us with more fuel, won’t you?” he asked Deaderick and Rucker.

“Right on top of you,” Rucker confirmed. “Literally, sometimes. We’re sneaking the diesel in sealed tubs covered in shrimping nets. And we’ve got a hose all strapped up and ready to deploy. ”

“But we can’t do it while you’re underwater. You’ll have to break surface for us to refuel you. That’ll be the most dangerous part,” Deaderick said with deepening seriousness. “One of the things we’re hoping to change on future models of this thing—is we’d like to see it take on more fuel without breaching. ”

“I sure as hell hope they do keep us around, so we can make some suggestions on those future models,” piped up Wallace Mumler, who’d been leaning against a wall and smoking quietly as the conversation carried on.

Chester Fishwick, who’d come in late but now stood beside Wallace, agreed. “I’d like the chance to work on the ships they’ll build after this one. I’m all full up on ideas—ways they could make it better. Ways it could run cleaner, and longer. ”

Cly lifted his head to direct his next question at the pair of them. “Speaking of running longer, how far can we expect to get on one full tank?”

No one answered right away, but Chester took a stab at a reply. “Twenty-five or thirty miles, or that’s our best guess. It’s hard to say, once you’re out in the current. It’ll help you, but we don’t know how much. Maybe the river will take you an extra mile; maybe she’ll take you an extra ten. Keep your eye on the fuel gauge, that’s my advice. And give us a signal before you’re ready for more—when you’re down to a couple miles’ worth of juice, we’ll find a spot for you to pull aside real quiet and give you another dose. ”