Brass Skies Vol. 1: The Battle of Chesapeake

Battle of Chesapeake: Catherine

The sky was eerily quiet, all things considered. Of course quiet is a relative term at a kilometer above the ground, Catherine thought to herself wryly as she heard men and women shouting, struggling to be heard over the constant whistling of the wind and the drone of a few propellers in the distant background. Every so often, the muted thunder-hiss of a burner firing or the shrill shriek of a steam valve letting off pressure broke across the sky. Catherine let out a deep sigh to herself. Okay, so perhaps it is not so quiet after all.

One of her crew, close enough to actually hear the sigh, looked over at her with a raised eyebrow but Catherine shook her head to indicate nothing was wrong. He looked skeptical and Catherine forced herself to give him a reassuring smile despite the icy tightness in her chest that threatened to suffocate her.

Still, as she looked away from the crewman and swept her gaze in a panoramic view of the sky, she had to admit that things were quiet. Almost twenty five ships drifted on either side and to the rear of her own aptly named Queen's Revenge, including her former flagship the Iron Rose. She recognized the flags that marked the Amaranth, Ophelia, Wrath of Fate, Velvet Dagger, Iron Dragon, Black Rose, Queen of Argyll, and Hell's Valkyrie; each dangerous ships with crews and captains famous in their own right. The rest of the vessels in the fleet were less familiar, less notorious, or simply to new to the fleet for her to remember off the top of her head.

One ship was noticeably absent and Catherine felt a twinge of worry as she wondered what happened to the Robert's Revenge. There had been no word from the ship for days and there was no sign of it on the horizon. Catherine had expected to see the ship by now; it wasn't like Robert at all to fail to keep his word. Catherine was starting to suspect that either something had happened to him or that he had decided not to show up after all. She wasn't sure which scenario she preferred.

Turning her attention to the horizon in front of her, Catherine felt her chest seize up again. She estimated that there were at least seventy-five ships in the line spread out about five miles in front of her fleet simply drifting there, waiting for dawn when they would pounce upon the smaller fleet with the intention of completely decimating it. Catherine knew that the British would not be focusing on taking prisoners and any prisoners taken would be executed at the first opportunity.

So many will die in this fight, Catherine thought to herself. We could try and slip away in the night but they will just chase us down. We may as well fight them here, but what right do I have to ask these men and women to die for me? I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not an admiral. She gripped the railing harder. She was glad that her gloves and goggles hid her white knuckles and the fear in her blue-green eyes as she gazed out toward the enemy fleet and considered her options.

Slipping away in the dark was an option. Though the skies that the fleets were flying in were clear and the visibility so great you could see for miles, the skies above the fleets were full of clouds that would help mute out all but the brightest stars. Between the time the sun set and the moon rose, the skies would be dark enough to slip away.

But such a reprieve would only last a handful of days at best. Under sail the fleet would not be able to slip far enough away during the night to avoid being spotted in the morning once the sun rose. They could split up, but the British easily had enough ships to split up and go after them. Even though it was doubtful the British could catch all of the ships, it would still be enough. No, fleeing would only push off the inevitable.

As the sky turned darker, James slipped up behind Catherine and looked over her shoulder. "I don't understand what they are waiting for," he muttered softly.