Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 92

Trouble at the Docks
Chapter Seventeen
By Jim King

The officers left the meeting after some final
planning and split up to rouse their commands for
action. By the Land Frigate a wagon had pulled up and
naval ratings were transferring coal and water to the
rear compartment.
“Bosun!” Lieutenant Houseman called to
the leader of the naval party that had arrived with
replacement ammunition, fuel and water.
“I hate to ask this of the men but in amongst
these houses we’re blind. I want a lookout up behind
the stack. Call for volunteers.”
“Aye aye sir.”
The Bosun turned to look at the naval ratings,
deciding which one had made it high enough on his
shit list to be ‘volunteered’ for this little job.
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The force began to form up for the attack,
Greyhound with her ‘volunteer’ crouched on top made
her way to the base of the ramp up to the fort.
Third platoon was formed up with the
Ironsides right behind them. Second platoon was a bit
further back with the quartermaster and his munitions
wagons behind them
First platoon was to be the last infantry unit
up the ramp, they deployed in the market square with
sharpshooters on the flat roofed buildings ready to

provide covering fire.
Then, once everyone was in position, General
Summerby ordered the attack to begin and the Land
Frigate started up the ramp towards the gatehouse and
the final battle. Greyhound began to work her way up
the slope, a mortar round landed in front of the gate
and exploded covering the area with dust and shrapnel.
A few rebels appeared on top of the gatehouse
or wall to fire at the land frigate or the infantry in
the market square but they were quickly driven back
by the fire of first platoon’s sharpshooters and by a
second mortar round that landed behind the gatehouse
and exploded engulfing the whole area.
Both six pounders also joined in, firing against
the wall above the path leading up the hill to the gate
and with the siege mortar dropping rounds behind the
wall into the fort the volume of fire directed against
Greyhound was minor. A few rounds bounced off
the armour leaving no more than smears of lead.
The lookout crouched as low as he could manage
between the twin maxim turrets, on the narrow path
up to the gate his eyes were not needed and while the
fire directed at the Land Frigate was light the sound
of bullets bouncing off the armour or buzzing past
overhead left the man quaking with fear.
Greyhound steadily made her way up the ramp
and reached the top where she slowly and c arefully
began to turn towards the gate, her outside rear wheel
and track was left hanging out over the edge of the

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