Chapter 11:

[Rebecca Talon]

September 1, 1998
Six Months Post Change
Gulf of Mexico
Galveston, Texas

The USS Constitution rested in dry dock. The the hull was battered and twisted, but still intact. The foremast was gone. The mainmast was broken off at the top gallant. The mizzen mast was still intact, but cracked down the center and rope wrapped around it to hold it in place.

The Pride of Baltimore II was dry docked next to Constitution and was in no better shape. A seam of rivits split along the starboard side just below the water line.

The Constellation was conspicuous in its absence as smaller sailing craft sailed in and out of the harbor.

The pre-change docks had undergone significant changes as they had been modified to accommodate the use of sailing vessels again. The massive crains used for unloading shipping containers had mostly been torn down for their components.

Shops, fish vendors, tanneries, and blacksmiths lined the the old docks. Their smelly trades segragted from the city center.

The old downtown of Galveston was vibrant once again. Mostly with people on foot or bicycles, but a few were on horseback and the occasional wagon laden with supplies.

Off of Broadway was a building built just before the Civil War. Palm trees grew in the front yard. A newly erected flagpole flew the U.S. Naval Jack. A flag with 50 white stars on a blue field.

Rebecca stood in the parlor in the new uniform of the Navy. It was throwback to the 18th century. Navy blue wool jacket over white breeches and knee high black boots. A black bicorn hat sat on the edge of the table.

"The Baltimore should be repaired in three weeks," Master Chief of the Navy Miles Edward O'Brien reported. The Irish immigrant still carried the thick accent of his homeland. "But, we are getting settled well enough here. It helped that the citizens fled after the change hoping the governor would keep them fed in Houston."

"Fortunate for us, not for them Mr. O'Brien. "We certainly weren't in a position to help anyone when we got here."

Rebecca sat heavily in her chair and sighed. "That typhoon hurt us. Hurt us bad. It was lucky that we could salvage a few sail boats in Houston and here to replace the ones we lost... but still. Those seventy-eight men and women... cannot be replaced."

She sipped a rare cup of coffee. That was getting hard to come by, but the replacement chicory coffee just wasn't the same. She picked up from the edge of her desk and handed O'Brien a rolled up 24×36 sheet of paper. "A new ship."

O'Brien unrolled it and whistled. There on it was a design for a three masted frigate very similar in construction to the Constitution, but bigger by adding a second gun deck for a total of five decks.

The gun ports were slightly smaller and spaced farther apart to accommodate scorpions. There were arrow slits between the gun ports allowing archers to fire out and remain almost completely protected.

On the upper deck were two trebuchets, fore and aft, resting on a rotating turret with nearby cranes to lift their heavy ammunition up from the hold.

Halfway up in the masts were fighting platforms for more archers who could rain arrows down on their enemies with the benefit of holding the high ground. An often underestimated force multiplier.

"Impressive ma'am," O'Brien said.

Rebecca smiled, "Just tried to implement the best of what had been learned. I figured we could build two ships at a time. The USS Erebus and USS Tigris should be high priority. We need to replace the Constellation and Constitution isn't suited for this kind of warfare. Once the first two are built and we have the kinks worked out we can start construction on the USS Enterprise and the USS Milo Talon."

Rebecca stood and went to the window and stared out, "Speaking of Milo; I figure we need to notify his son. Assuming he's alive. It might be a good time to try out our new Marine Corps. Have Colonel Murphy organize a light calvary expedition to Colorado. I'm sure Captain Ryder would like to know the fate of his granddaughter, and we could use a better idea of what the interior is like. With any luck they'll have survived. One thing I've learned is you can't have too many Ryders on your side."

Two months earlier...

The Atlantic was gray. It was difficult to see the horizon as the sky and sea became the same color. Wind whipped at the riggings of Old Ironsides which made an eerie whine.

The ship plunged downward with the waves. At the bottom water crashed over the bow causing the whole ship to shake. Constitution broke though the apex and teetered on the crest before repeating process all over again.

Rebecca was braced against the mizzen mast as Cheif O'Brien struggled at the wheel. The ship only had enough sail to maintain steering and still the wind looked as if it would tear canvas freely or pull the masts down.

Rebecca raised her glass to her eye trying to see any of the other ships in her fleet. She couldn't see anything beyond a few hundred yards.

Nick stood close by, but she still had to shout at the top of her lungs, "You see anybody?"

Before he could answer the ship pitched downward and rolled to starboard. A wave crashed over the bow sending water spraying in opposite directions.

Then as if on a rollercoaster the ship emerged from the sea in an upward angle pitching to port nearly throwing Rebecca from her feet. The violence of the motion and the force of the wind was finally too much for rhe fore mast to handle. With splintering cracks the massive mast came crashing down pulling rigging with it.

The lines attaching it to the main mast didn't even slow it's fall as it snapped off the top half of that mast as well. The whole mess came crashing to the deck crushing unfortunate sailors in the wake before toppling overboard. Still held to the ship the masts bashed into the side of the hull with heavy thumps that reverberated all over the ship. The drag caused the ship to list to port.

"Cut them free! If we don't we'll loose the ship!" Rebecca shouted as she sprinted to the broken railings of the ship and grabbed a riggers axe from it's holder at the railing and she started frantically chopping at the lines.

[Peter Vogler]

Rebecca heard the cracking of wood, and then blackness...

It was hot. There wasn't any air movement. Rebecca groaned, rolled over and emptied bile from her stomach onto the deck. She rolled onto her back again and stared unmoving up at the wooden ceiling of her cabin.

"You're awake," the voice of Dr. Peter Vogler said. "It was touch and go there for a minute."

She sat up painfully, "The ship?"

"Lay back down captain, Doctor's orders. You took a hell of a knock on the head. You've been out two days."

"The ship?" She asked again with her eyes closed. It helped with the head ache.

"Afloat, and that's about all I can say about her. Lost two masts, and the other one is badly damaged. The hull was damaged too, but the pump teams are keeping up with it so far. Captain Ryder did a hell of a job. You wouldn't have guessed he was an ignorant fly-boy."

The corner of Rebecca's lip curled up in a slight grin, "He's a fast learner. The crew?"

"One dead and twelve missing," Vogler said. "The Baltimore only has a few moderate to minor casualties."

"The Baltimore survived? How about the Constellation?"

"The Baltimore has some damage but they are still sailing. The Constellation is still missing, and only two of our smaller sail boats have rendezvoued."