The Battle of Venice (2)
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu.
The deep, heavy rumble of the engines turning over. Utterly dependable.
"The enemy ships are bunched up nicely for us, aren't they?"
"Shall we open fire right away?"
The captain and the gunnery officer spoke the purest of truths. With them packed together like that, even a sloppy shot would land.
"Commence bombardment immediately!"
"We've got enough shells to fire all night anyway, so keep at it, you dogs! Don't slack!"
"Yes, sir!"
Honestly... this was a transport ship, yet they loaded this many shells? They just crammed them into the cargo holds like ordinary freight — aren't you all afraid of a chain detonation?
For a moment, something behind his knee twinged with a chill...
Ku-ku-kung. Kung-ku-kung.
With three ships firing at once, the shells really did pour out in staggering numbers. The barrels had gotten bigger, so the shells were easier to see in flight now.
"We take point. Signal the rest of the fleet to follow at staggered intervals!"
"Yes, sir!"
Click-click-click.
And there, huddled beside the searchlight, a signalman flashed messages to the neighboring ships in Morse code. Haneul had never taught them that — they'd figured it out all on their own, and were using it beautifully?
Come to think of it, with turbines aboard they could generate their own electricity, so of course it worked. Well done~
"Enemy ships on all sides!"
"Hm?"
A marine observing from the high vantage point reported it — apparently they were surrounded.
"Ha? What a petty little trick. Begin a wide turn! Sink anything that comes close!"
Ohh... with turrets mounted on both sides, they could pour out a truly ferocious volume of fire?
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gung.
For a moment he almost mistook it for machine gun fire from naval cannons. The thunder of the guns simply would not stop.
"More shells, faster! Run!"
"Aaaaagh! How am I supposed to move any faster than this?!"
Right behind the turrets, sailors stacked shells on loading trays, feeding the guns. At least the spent casings went into bins beside the turrets and rolled down below on their own.
Right — thrift makes for a good life. You have to look after your brass casings.
"Hey! Right there — it's right on top of us!"
"Damn it, I've got this one!"
There were so many ships that some were closing in dangerously near. And yet, for some reason, they weren't firing their cannons.
Were they trying to come alongside and board?
"Watch the small ships! Looks like boarders!"
"Yes, sir!"
The ship carried 430 souls, but only 200 of those were combat sailors — and some of those were hauling shells, leaving the decks dangerously thin. If anyone actually got aboard here, it would be a crisis.
Since close combat was still likely, he would have to order more fighting personnel aboard next time.
"Ship inbound this way! Riflemen, port side!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Where do you think you're crawling up from?!"
Ah, but whenever the enemy drew near, the riflemen moved back and forth along the rail, briskly holding them off. Good. Good work. They fight well on their own initiative.
KA-KRANG! KANG! KA-GA-KRANG!
"Everyone, mind the incoming shells! If you hear that sound, take cover at once!"
"Stay alert, all of you!"
As time passed, more and more enemy shells began to fall around their own ships. They made enormous targets, and the enemy had ships to spare — swarming in like hornets across the surrounding waters.
"Watch every direction!"
"Eyes sharp, everyone!"
Right, they really did have to be careful. However fine their ships and weapons were, anything the enemy launched could still deal a fatal blow if it landed.
KA-KRANG. KANG.
"Aaaagh! So noisy!"
"Still — thank the armor plating we're alive!"
Whoever built those turrets deserved a medal. How many times had they already saved the boys' lives...
So what if it was deafening? As long as they lived, that was enough.
The great battle off Venice was now pushing into the afternoon — a clash that would surely echo through the pages of history.
More than a thousand Venetian ships against a mere three from Daehan. Word had spread of Portugal's earlier ordeal, yet everyone still expected an overwhelming Venetian victory.
The Doge's Palace, residence of Venice's Doge, held a single tower offering a commanding view over the lagoon.
"What... what is this?"
"Gahk..."
There the Doge and a handful of others had gathered, staring out across the sea.
"..."
"..."
The countless ships they had assembled were being holed again and again, turning into rags, into dust, sinking beneath the waves.
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gung.
"Hhk..."
Some ships, as if their powder magazines had been struck, vanished without a trace. One after another, the fleet shrank before their eyes and slipped into the sea.
"I cannot believe it..."
"Is this hell?"
"That thing is a monster!"
"Have we... have we touched something demonic...?"
"O, Lord..."
Faced with the reality before them, the onlookers could not believe their eyes. Ships swarmed in from every direction, and there ought to have been hope in those numbers — yet the moment they drew close, they burst apart and went under.
What terrified them most of all was this: the enemy ships had neither oars nor sails.
"How in God's name do they move at all?!"
"More pressing — that black smoke is ill omened beyond telling!"
"And the very color of it is black!"
They say science that surpasses comprehension becomes indistinguishable from magic. And so the Venetians began to see the technology as sorcery — as the devil's own witchcraft.
"Yes! Those are ships piloted by demons!"
"No wonder they move as they do!"
"Send word to the Papacy at once! Tell them a devil has appeared!"
The Doge of Venice fell into despair. To think these lunatics, spewing such idiotic nonsense, stood at his side...
Prayer was fine, was it not? You prayed believing that faith in God would bring salvation. He genuinely wondered whether these men were fools who truly believed any of it.
"How long has the battle been running?"
"It began late this morning... and it is well past midday now..."
The question had hardly been necessary. The sun was already slanting westward in the sky.
By his estimate, perhaps a quarter of the assembled fleet had already gone to the bottom.
"When night falls... then we can board them..."
They could not close the distance in daylight. Now the only hope left was a fight at close quarters, steel against steel.
Meanwhile, aboard the Daehan flagship's bridge.
"The sun will be setting soon, sir."
"No reason to take unnecessary risks. Prepare to withdraw to open water!"
"Yes, sir!"
They could have kept fighting through the night — lights on, searchlights sweeping for targets — but there was no need to shoulder that risk. They could pull out to open sea, rest, and return the next morning.
"We reach safe water before the sun is fully down. Full speed ahead!"
And so the three Whale Shark class ships, belching their sinister black smoke, ran for the open sea.
However the distant sailing ships spread their canvas, however the galleys pulled their oars, catching up was a lost cause.
Thus did the ships of Daehan vanish from the Venetian navy's sight.
Around sundown, they came to a stop in the middle of the open sea.
"Maintain a strict watch. We rest here tonight."
"Yes, sir!"
The Whale Sharks lit their searchlights and rotated watch shifts, surveying the dark water.
Lamplight wouldn't carry far at sea, and with the Whale Sharks having opened the distance at top speed, any sailing ship hoping to reach them would have to run full canvas through the entire night.
By then the ironclads would be underway again — so the effort would be pointless.
One passing ship did spot the glow in the night and approach, only to flee in abject terror. And so the Whale Sharks passed their first night in safety, then pressed on at dawn.
Kurururur.
"This is... awfully cruel, isn't it..."
She had expected — wanted, even — the awesome firepower of a colossal warship. But now, witnessing an outright massacre, Haneul found herself wondering whether she had treated all of this far too lightly, like some video game.
"Now you realize?"
Amid her rueful reflections, the fleet sailed on toward Venice.
"Doge! They're coming again!"
"Gahk!"
After that much ordnance expended, surely their shells should have run dry by now? Surely their cannons should have cracked apart at the least?
"How can they still be firing their guns?!"
"Is this not the strangest of omens?!"
"That's right! It must be the devil's work!"
The truth was that Daehan simply fought on while swapping out worn gun barrels — but to the Venetians, such a thing was utterly impossible, and so the devil-mongering began anew.
"Enough! Silence!"
"..."
"Now — how many ships do we have left?"
Having quelled the crowd, the Doge took stock of the surviving fleet.
"Perhaps a fifth appear to have sunk."
"Still a great many remain, then..."
"And... sir."
"What?"
"Another quarter or so appear to have... fled."
"Haah..."
He was dumbstruck. Venice kept a standing force of warships, but most of the assembled fleet had been requisitioned from merchants.
And those merchants, terror-stricken, had simply sailed away.
"So we have a little over half remaining, then?"
"That is the estimate."
Estimate — meaning it might well be less. Who could say how many more would slip away by morning?
"How can we bring those ships to heel?"
"Well, there is..."
"Nothing?"
"There is one way."
And then the man explained a method so outrageous the Doge could scarcely believe it. He deliberated long and hard — because, if it worked, that method really might do the trick.
"That is our only option?"
"Yes, sir. It would seem so..."
"Then do it."
"Yes, sir!"
With his plan approved, the man hurried to the harbor, his face lit up with barely concealed glee. He was already dreaming that this chance might win him a great deed — and perhaps a title of nobility besides.
Once aboard, he issued his orders to the crew.
"Raise the white flag."
"Eh? We're surrendering?"
"No. Pack iron shot in among the powder barrels — heap them all together in one spot!"
"???"
Brushing aside the sailors' bewildered questions, he hurried the ship's preparations for departure.
He intended to approach under the pretense of surrender — and blow the ship sky-high in a self-destruct attack.
He felt sorry for the crew who had sailed with him all this while, but for the sake of his own glory, they would be his sacrificial lambs.
"Make haste with the departure!"
"Yes, sir!"
Not knowing the reason, the sailors stowed iron shot and powder together just beneath the deck and rushed the ship out of harbor.
No one noticed that the captain's smile, as he watched them work, had gone crooked.
And so a single ship, flying the white flag, sailed out alone.
Please, let them not sink us on sight...
Then, after a long pull out from shore—
"Black ships ahead! The same ones from yesterday!"
"Good! Approach that ship with care. We come only to deliver a message!"
"Yes, sir!"
"I'll be down below. Once we pull alongside, give me the signal!"
Descending below decks, the captain began unreeling a fuse. Too long would fail, and too short would kill him. This wasn't his first day handling the stuff, so he cut it to what seemed a proper length, readied himself to light it, and began gauging how close the enemy ship was drawing.
"This should just about do it."
Tak-tak. Chi-jiji-jik.
Leaving behind a fuse that hissed and shortened, vomiting white smoke, he threw himself through an open porthole, a wooden plank clutched to his chest — he had a long swim ahead of him.
Shaaa! Shaaa!
A true man of the sea, he swam magnificently.
When he paused, far off, he saw his own ship pressed tight against the enemy vessel.
"Should be about time for it to blow?"
A beat later than he'd expected.
KUWAAAAAANG!
"Gahk!"
The powder's detonation was far mightier than he had imagined. The colossal enemy ship visibly lurched with the blast.
Then the sea breeze began to sweep the thick smoke away.
"Eh?"
Beyond it, the enemy ship — its hull somewhat dented and rippled here and there — was utterly unharmed.
"Madness. That's no thing made by human hands! Was it truly a demon's ship after all? I fought against that?"
Shudders crawled up his spine as he struck out for the shore again. He had no intention of ever setting foot near Venice again.
He could already see it — Venice, fighting those ships, meeting its ruin.
"Where do I go now... Spain, perhaps? I hear they're hiring sailors in droves for the crossing these days."
In any case, there was no place for him in anything tied to Venice. The operation had failed, and every man of his crew was dead by his hand.
He would have to go somewhere far away and start over from the bottom, deckhand first.
"Still — better than being dead."
But could a man who had driven innocent sailors into a dog's death truly live well ever after?
Far behind him, drawn by the scent of the blood his ship's crew had spilled into the water, the sharks were already converging.