Convoy from Gotzborg

[King of Gotzborg]

OOC> Forgive me whilst I immerse myself into this new form of interaction, I shall endeavour to learn ========The Commodore stared through his sea glasses towards the RMS Altberg Manor which cruised slowly out of the harbour at Konigslanden behind the HRMS Grenadier. Further behind the Altberg Manor the Ophelia trailed like another sheep, out of sight but undoubtedly behind the Ophelia, HRMS Cuirassier would be bringing up the rear, indeed fulfilling the ‘herding’ component of the exercise. Both ships laden with arms, artillery and ammunition bound for the Grand Commonwealth forces in Terre des Riches. Lowering the glasses to hang from the strap around the collar of his uniform the Commodore adjusted his bow tie and then his sea cap before turning to look back out to sea ahead. As the smoke exhausted lazily from the Grenadier’s stack the Grenadier’s captain snapped out a course change and the ship heaved over to port as the helmsman responded on the wheel. It was bound to be a quick trip to Lusatia, which was the next destination of the convoy to pick up additional escorts before making way to Richmond in Terre des Riches. Convoys, whilst not unknown in the Royal Navy, were uncommon but in this case, with the Shirerethians and the GC going at it, it had the potential to become a little hairy, but outwardly the Commodore looked controlled. It was the short term, which required the attention of the Captains and the freighters, but the long term required constant thought questioning and planning, for all scenarios and eventualities. Inside, the Commodore was concerned. “Commodore, report that the convoy has cleared the harbour mouth, we are steaming ESE at 12knots.” The Captain reported, having suddenly appeared at the Commodore’s elbow as he glared off at the horizon from the flying bridge. “Thank you Captain,” the Commodore replied, turning aft to peer again at the Ophelia. The bow of the Cuirassier could be seen turning hard and although they were not close, from the angle it looked like the warship was trying to avoid the lumbering freighter. “Signal Ophelia, tell them to keep station, if they don’t nail this down now, we will have bigger problems when it becomes critical.” The Captain touched the brim of his sea cap, bereft of anything but the Royal Navy officer’s badge and turned back to the Watch Officer, relaying the order. Within a minute the signalman was whipping on the line which brought the signal flag up the mast. Raising his glasses, the Commodore watched the bridge of the Ophelia, silently timing the response of that ship’s Captain. After 5 minutes the Commodore grunted as the bow wave of the freighter increased slightly, indicating the Captain’s attempt to close the gap. The Commodore turned back to stare out at the sea, resting his arm on the railing as he returned to contemplation. First to Altamore in Micras for re-coaling and then on to Lusatia to pick up the HRMS Tern and two destroyers. It would be a long trip, with the climax not coming until near the end. Summary: Gotzborg Convoy GB01 depart for Altamore.

[Dugobert Wurmser]

Welcome! Are you going to be on the GC side eh? Admiral Dugobert Wurmser,Commander of the Central Fleet, Grand CommonwealthChief of Staff, AerligField Marshal, Aerlig

[King of Gotzborg]

OOC> I can't say I am joining one side or the other, I am merely delivering GC-purchased items to the buyers designated destination.But thank you for the welcome Admiral!Regards,August Charles II

[Dugobert Wurmser]

You.. are most welcomed! Admiral Dugobert Wurmser,Commander of the Central Fleet, Grand CommonwealthChief of Staff, AerligField Marshal, Aerlig

[King of Gotzborg]

The harbour in Altamore was a hub of activity. Steamers, lighters and all manner of water-borne vessels were either tied up at the many piers or in transit in or out of the harbour. From where the Grenadier was tied up along the coaling dock, the water was void of any vessel except a Royal Navy harbour boat which chugged along the invisible line between the harbour and the Navy Dockyard.From the window of the Dockyard Commandants office, the Commodore looked from the Grenadier to the other ships of the convoy, which were already coaled and waiting.“Reports I have been receiving from the War Office indicate that the situation in Terre des Riches is…..sketchy.” The Rear-Admiral, Commandant of the Dockyard spliced his fingers together in front of his ample waist and leaned back in the chair to look at the Commodore.“I had expected no less, it *is* a war zone,” the Commodore replied curtly, still staring out to the sunlit waters of the dockyard. The carrier Unity sat moored out in the open water, its torpedo nets deployed and being tended to by a swarm of lighters, tenders and supply floats. “Any word on additional deployments to the ‘engagement’?”The Admiral rose from his padded leather chair the moved up to the window beside the Commodore. “Not at this point, although I think the Aviation Squadron will have exercise orders shortly, there has been increased activity levels in preparing them for something, all I have is directives to get them up to unofficial alert.”A knock came at the door, loud enough to be heard but not enough to disturb, a young smart looking lieutenant stepped into the office, his aiguillette denoting his position as Flag Lieutenant to the Admiral.“Admiral,”: he nodded before looking at the Commodore. “Captain Sachs sends his compliments and the Convoy is ready to depart.”The Commodore’s posture stiffened and he nodded, turning back to snap his visor cap from the chair. “Thank you Lieutenant, compliments to the Captain, advise him to set the convoy to sea immediately, I will be aboard forthwith.” The Lieutenant nodded and left quickly.“Anything else you need Commodore?” the Admiral asked, returning to stand behind his desk and leaf through a sheaf of papers. The Commodore shook his head.“We’re ready with what we have, we will be in to Lusatia in a couple days and from there on to the goal, not much else to do.”“Well then, good luck old chap, we shall see you back shortly I have no doubt.” Both men met at the door to the office and shook hands briefly before the Commodore stepped out into the ante-office where his own Flag Lieutenant sat signing off on the last supply reports from the Provisioning chaps who had only just got done.“Let us fly like the wind Lieutenant.”Within the hour the Commodore was back aboard the Grenadier, in his place on the flying bridge, watching his flock as they made their way NNE and on to Lusatia for their final stop before the trip in to Terre des Riches. The Commodore both looked forward to the last leg and dreaded it, as with any plan, there was always the fact that things would inevitably change, hopefully it would not cost any lives. While glorious and courageous the Royal Navy was, it was not interested in the loss of any of its manpower, the family was what made it a success.Summary: Convoy GB01 heads off from Altamore to Lusatia.

[OctaviusMe]

OOC: Aren't port and larboard the same side of the ship?

[King of Gotzborg]

Quite true, quite true. Thx

[King of Gotzborg]

The shrill cry of the Bo‘suns whistle rang out across the deck of the Grenadier, swinging the watch out of their reverie for a moment before sending the gun crews to their stations. Captain Sachs, looking down from the bridge, his oilskin wrapped up tightly and buttoned to the neck, took in the situation swiftly with the look of a man who had been at his craft for a long time. Even before the watch officer had begun to provide his report, the Captain shook his head. “No, do it again.” The whistle rang out again, returning the ship to normal. “This time, send them down to the lower decks,” the Captain added, looking back at the gun crews who were looking up expectantly from their fire belching mistresses. The Watch Officer swallowed and nodded, turning back to the crews.“All gun crews down to the lower deck on the double!” he yelled out. The order was quickly taken up by the Petty Officers who drove the men down the hatchways into the belly of the Frigate. Out of the corner of his eye, the Captain saw the two Marines standing watch at the Commodore’s hatch stiffen to attention and the door open.“Commodore on deck!” one of the marines bellowed out, both of them snapping to attention and saluting. The Commodore, his white mutton chops contrasting sharply with his blue sea coat, the wide gold bullion rank stripe on his cuffs having turned green from the sea strode across the deck briskly not unlike a young Midshipman would. He pulled himself up to the bridge and nodded brusquely to the helmsman and Navigation Officer.“Captain.”“Commodore,” Sachs replied, saluting. Before he could continue the watchmen’s voice rang out from the forward mast. “Land ho!” came the call, the sea wind taking the voice as it often did. The Watch Officer acknowledged with a nod and a wave and turned to relay it to the Captain, stopping as he saw Sachs nodding his own acknowledgement.“Signal the Cuirassier to make all speed to Lusatia, scout out the way in to Catania.,” the Commodore ordered, his worn sea glasses stuck to his face as he looked the convoy over.“Ship two points off the starboard bow!” came another call from the watchmen in the tops. Sachs raised his own glasses to his eyes, making out barely the shape of a small warship which was making its way to them.“Action stations. Get those buggers to the guns!” Sachs roared. The bell rang out with urgency and once again the Grenadier launched itself into a controlled mayhem that most civilians would become anxious over. Sailors and marines began spewing from the hatches, each man running to their assigned action stations. Marines began scaling the masts and rigging up the sides of the ship, preparing their rifles and ammunition for the impending fight. The Captain smirked inside, the old ways of the Royal Navy still held true on the Grenadier, even though on all the newer ships the realities had changed.“Captain, gun crews are on station. Port and starboard batteries ready to fire,” yelled out the Watch Officer. The Captain nodded pleasantly, noting the immediate pleasure on the faces of the gun crews who could see him.“Stand down sir?” asked the Watch Officer. The Captain shook his head, “Let’s keep everyone on until we verify our approach.”The minutes passed quickly, each gun captain running his own particular gun through its checks to make sure when and if the time came, they would be ready. The mood was high and the feelings of pride evident in everyone. There were no dragging heels, nor would their be.“Ship is signaling!” came the cry from the mast again. Five sets of glasses rose to five sets of eyes as the distant and approaching ship blinked a message out.“HRMS Tern, requesting permission to escort the Convoy into Catania,” the Watch Officer relayed, although everyone had already deciphered the message.“Signal Tern. From convoy leader, permission granted.” The Watch Officer nodded to a Petty Officer who snapped up to the signal lamp and made quick work of the message.“Grenadier from Tern, acknowledged. Welcome.”“Tern from Grenadier, thank you.”Within two hours as the sun began to set at the stern, the Grenadier moored up in Catania harbour. The naval facility here was only a minor colonial naval station and its dock consisted of only enough space to tie up a couple gunboats or picket ships. The harbour otherwise was considerably full. A couple of steamers, a Babkhan freighter, and an old rusty Collier all sat anchored in the harbour. Only the collier had any smoke issuing from its solitary stack, its Royal Navy auxiliary flag flapping without enthusiasm from its stern. By the time the Commodore had been summoned to deck, the coal tugs, provisioning lighters were already swarming about the Grenadier and her flock.“Captain, conduct your coaling and provisioning on the double and summon a pilot from the Harbourmaster, I want to make a quick cut onto the last leg.”Captain Sachs looked at the falling light, wondering whether it was prudent or not to depart after dark, the Royal Navy was still a year away from completing an accurate oceanographic survey and many ships had already run aground and been smashed against reefs and underwater obstacles. Sensing the Captain’s hesitation the Commodore looked at the Captain intently.“Have no fear Captain, stick to the main shipping route west, just make sure you get the best pilot, I don’t need to have anyone get hung up on the reef.” He pulled at his moustache and looked around the harbour. “And signal the station, verify we have Tern and those two destroyers ready to go, if they are not, express my displeasure and advise me forthwith.”Sachs touched his brim and turned to snap out the orders to the appropriate people. Last leg, the heat was already rising.Summary: Convoy GB01 arrives in Lusatia to refuel, preparing for immediate departure to Richmond, GC. Tern and two destroyers being added to convoy escort. Edited by: King of Gotzborg at: 8/24/05 17:14

[King of Gotzborg]

Location: Channel north of Minorca/Bandera, south of Stormark mainland.The electric lamp swung to the soothing motion of the Grenadier as it tossed through the swells. The irregular splash of water spray could be heard from outside the open windows of the Commodore's cabin at the stern of the frigate.The Commodore took a sip of claret from the crystal glass and looked back to the five other officers who sat at the table. Captain Sachs, his executive officer, the third and fourth lieutenants and the engineering officer sat around, a myriad of conversations floating back and forth across the table, which was strewn with breads, fruit, fish and boar from Stormark.The forlorn clang of the ship's bell penetrated the cabin from the rear windows, signalling eight bells. The conversation didn't lessen, but you could see the group had all heard. Lieutenant Arpad, the Fourth lieutenant stood from the table, snapping his heels together and inclining his head to the Commodore and then to the table, picking up his peaked cap from the steward who had appeared with it at his back."Thank you Commodore, gentlemen," Arpad announced, steping away from the table. "Cheers Lieutenant," replied the third officer. The others muttered so longs as Arpad got to the door and opened it."Lieutenant, compliments to the Second Officer, if you could let him know he is welcome to join us," the Commodore announced, his voice silencing the rest of the table. Arpad touched his cap and departed smartly. The conversation resumed, the laughter growing as the claret and wine flowed."Gentlemen, we are shortly to turn on to the last major heading for the way in to Richmond. I want everyone to be on top of their charges and without doubt or consternation to their duties." The table nodded solemnly and with conviction. The Commodore knew he would not have to worry. It was only when wars became long and protracted that morale, dedication and conviction began to wane. Only those commanders who were strong of personality and heart could hold together those men whose lives were certain to be extinguished.From the door came a knock and then it opened, a Marine with his red tally peering in. "The Second Officer sir." The Commodore nodded and Lieutenant Commander Ellsworth stepped into the room, removing a worn out sea cap from his head and nodding to the Commodore."Gents, lets us enjoy this meal, for one never knows if it will be our last!" toasted the executive, Commander de Santana, his glass of claret raised. The table broke out in boisterous and restrained rowdiness as everyone clinked their glasses together."To His Royal Majesty, in whose service we travel the world, forever vigilant in our duty, and energetic in our mission, to pursue our enemy from the seas, and trade him shot for shot!" the Commodore added, standing with his own glass. The officers took up the toast and drank deeply again. It was now on to Richmond!Summary: Convoy GB01 exiting the straight between Stormark and Minorca.

[King of Gotzborg]

Convoy GB01 moved slowly WSW towards Terre des Riches, their destination Richmond, their delivery bound for the Commonwealth forces fighting throughout the land. The level of tension has arose considerably in the last couple days as the convoy sailed, sighting neither land nor ship, friend or foe. The convoy increased speed to its maximum, 10 knots for the final coal draining run in. Without any report to guide them, the Commodore didnÂ’t know what to expect and as such had requested than a wireless message be sent to the Babkhan forces requesting either an escort or a guide ship to take them into Richmond. Barring that though, they would be on their own.Summary: Convoy GB01 is making their final way in to Richmond and has messaged the Babkhan forces, hoping for an escort or guide-ship.

[Dugobert Wurmser]

*Message to the Gotzborg Convoy*Your request gas been granted, Commander Wurmser is here to escort you.*End of message* Admiral Dugobert Wurmser,Commander of the Central Fleet, Grand CommonwealthChief of Staff, AerligField Marshal, Aerlig