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Subject: {ASSM} The Rescue Of The Titanic (By Katzmarek) (Parody, MF,Rom,Hist)
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<1st attachment, "Titanic.txt" begin>
THE RESCUE OF THE TITANIC.
By KATZMAREK
"I believe we put up the spotter aircraft around midnight," the
old man recounted, "that would have been about 20 minutes after
she struck the iceberg."
"Ah," replied the younger man, "and you were about where?" he
asked, indicating the map.
"Twelve miles North by Northeast... here," he pointed, "Valentina
ordered we boost to 32 knots, which was close to full speed in
those days. Oh, except the Uralsk, the salvage ship. She could
only make 28 knots maximum. We left her to make the best speed
she could."
"Valentina? D'you mean Admiral Golovna?" Dr Balardi asked.
"Yes, all the officers called her Valentina... except on the
bridge, of course. Fine woman, she was, all the officers
developed a great respect for her. The best sea-salvage expert in
all of Russia."
Something about the gleam in the old man's eye suggested to
Balardi there was a story there. Perhaps if he gently nudged the
old Admiral he might be persuaded to tell it. For the present,
though, he needed to find the location of the safe far below in
the wreck of the great liner. This old retired Admiral might be
the only one capable of pinpointing it's location.
"So anyway, you were saying about the spotter plane?"
"Ah yes," the old man replied, shaken back from his thoughts, "we
needed to confirm the fix, you see, by radar. In those days it
was easy to be off by two or three degrees."
"Yes of course. So where was it?"
"41'46"N, 50'14"W, Smack on the nail, six feet down by the head.
Just like she said she was."
"Remarkable!"
----------------------------------------------------------------
Kommador Alexie Yaroslavl Kuropatkin had commanded the Imperial
Russian Cruiser 'Makarov' since it was launched. She had just
worked up when the Northern fleet was thrown into battle against
the Japanese in 1905.
The cruiser was consequently one of the most modern in the navy
and she and the 'Marshal Kutuzov' formed the Northern Fleet's 1st
Scouting Group. Now in April 1912, she was detailed to be command
ship for the most tricky of rescue operations. The rescuing of
2,200 people from the sinking White Star liner, 'Titanic.'
In command of the operation that fateful night, was
General-Admiral Valentina Golovna. At the time she was the
foremost expert in sea-rescue technology, however she was a not a
flotilla commander. For that role Kuropatkin was elevated to
Kommador and given overall command of the ships of the squadron.
The Command ship was the Cruiser 'Makarov' supported by her
sister, the 'Kutuzov.' The cruisers were accompanied by two
escorting destroyers of the 'Breznipechny' class. Next came the
specialist rescue vessel 'Uralsk' with it's high volume pumps.
These were expected to keep the 'Titanic' afloat long enough to
rescue all of the passengers and crew. Following this was the
hospital ship 'Tri Sviatitoi' and the troop ship 'Alma Ata,'
which was to be used as an accomodation vessel.'
Between them the cruisers carried 6 aircraft, Sikorski PL2
floatplanes of the latest type. These single-engined two-seaters
carried both weather and search radars. Their Anatra-built Klimov
engines were carried above their high 'gull' wing, to avoid spray
interference. Each cruiser launched their aircraft from
steam-powered catapaults located on their hangar decks behind the
mainmast.
That then was the fleet that was supposed to carry out the
greatest rescue operation in marine history.
Valentina was in her late thirties, tall and beautiful. In
accordance with the high standards of the Imperial Russian Navy
in those days, she was in top physical condition. She had
introduced many of the innovations still used today in sea-rescue
and had personally designed the salvage vessel 'Uralsk'. Indeed
it would be difficult to find such a brilliant expert anywhere in
the world.
Kommador Kuropatkin had turned 40 while at sea. A sea-going
Captain through and through, he had risen up through the ranks in
the greatest Navy in the world. His hair was fashionably long and
cascaded down past his shoulders. Like all the Officers and crew,
he wore the long, quilted 'Northern' uniform coat in dark blue.
He stepped out onto the exposed bridge 'walk' to smoke his pipe.
Smoking, of course, was forbidden inside. The metalic compounds
in the tobacco smoke adversely affected the electronics.
"You should give up," came a voice.
Kuropatkin spun, startled, towards the voice to see the Admiral
standing there. She adjusted the collar of her coat against the
biting cold.
"You're not going to leap off the railing, are you Valentina?"
Over the weeks, they had developed an easy informality.
"So you can catch me, Alexie?" she asked, "I don't think so," she
laughed.
At the other end of the walk an Ensign on ice watch hunched down
against the elements, nightscope to his eyes. The two senior
officers glanced in his direction, but his attitude was of
studied disinterest.
"See anything?" the Kommador called.
The man shook his head. Both the bow sonar and navigation radar
were constantly manned in the com-centre. The fear was of small
floating fragments of ice called 'growlers' that might be missed.
They could damage a propeller or one of the underwater antennae
that dotted the hull underneath.
Standing together, the Admiral and the Kommador peered towards
the bearing where the Titanic was expected to appear in a few
minutes. It was strangely quiet. Above the low throbbing of the
ship beneath their feet, they could hear the swish of the sea
along the hull of the slim vessel. The water was glass-like in
the lightness of the distant northern horizon.
Dead ahead they both saw a faint glow. It could only be the
reflection of the saloon lights of the stricken liner. The Ensign
shuffled, he'd spotted it too.
Kuropatkin turned to the Admiral, her face inches from his own. A
faint whisp of condensation escaped their mouths to be carried
away by the slipstream.
"I guess that's the cue," he told her, "time to get prepared."
"Yes," the Admiral told him softly, "make sure the ships stand
off her, won't you. Until we're sure there's no-one in the
water."
"I know," he replied, looking into her eyes, "the Destroyers will
circle her with searchlights."
"Good," she said, fixing his gaze, "I guess I'll be going over to
the Uralsk when it finally arrives," she told him, sadly, "a
pity... I quite got used to having you around."
"I'll still be here," he told her smiling.
"I know, but it will not be the same. Now it's business."
"Yes," he conceded, "I guess it is."
Inside the control room, Kuropatkin picked up the intercom and
called the com-centre.
"What's she sending?" he asked.
"It was CQD. Now it's SOS, Kommador," came the reply.
"Right... tell her... stand to, ETA 15 minutes. And sign it
'Makarov.'
Through the speaker he could hear the tap, tapping of the old
Morse key.
"Kommador!" came the reply from the speaker a few minutes later,
"they want to know who the hell we are."
"Tell them we're the Russian Navy and they ought to be more
grateful," he chuckled, "on second thoughts, belay that last
remark."
Kuropatkin ordered the squadron to reduce speed as they neared
the liner. Detaching the escorts, he ordered them to circle
around the Titanic and check for anyone in the sea. He then
ordered the Cruisers to hove to some 500 yards off the liner's
port side.
Illuminated by the cabin lights of the passenger ship, he could
see the thousands of people lining the decks, waving and calling
out. He knew he had to take control of the situation quickly.
He hurried down to the boat deck where the advance Communication
party was assembling. They quickly stood to attention as he
approached.
"Lieutenant Lineavich," he called to the senior officer, "right
man, you know what to do. Go straight to Captain Smith and set up
radio communication. Tell him what we're planning to do, clearly
and concisely. The Marine Security party will follow and help to
maintain order. Lets hope someone has the presence of mind to
drop a line down to you."
"Yes sir."
"Now be careful going up her side... that's a hell of a long way
down. You've got the rope ladder?"
"Yes sir, everything's there."
"Good, just be... careful, ok?"
No-one did have the presence of mind. The party had to fire a
grapple over the fo'castle rails of the liner and climb up
themselves. Once on board, however, the crew conveyed them
through the milling crowd to the Captain of the Titanic, Smith.
---------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh crap," Kuropatkin muttered to himself as he watched the chaos
developing on the water.
Despite the instructions, the Titanic continued to lower
lifeboats on either side. The Russian launch crews were busy
towing them over towards the waiting naval ships. The biggest
problem was the starboard side where the Uralsk was supposed to
moor. She couldn't go alongside while there were boats in the
water.
The Uralsk was hoping to drop a synthetic rubber and alloy
'curtain,' down the damaged side of the liner. Called by the
salvage crew a 'Band Aid' the water pressure clamps it hard to
the liner's fractured side and stems the onrush of water. The
powerful pumps of the salvager were then supposed to gain on the
flooding and prevent the liner from sinking any lower.
All this was to allow the 'Sviatitoi' and the 'Alma' to moor on
the other side of the Titanic and allow the passengers to walk
off. The most careful planning in the world can quickly come
undone by panicky passengers and crew. If we couldn't get the
Uralsk alongside quickly, then we couldn't stablise the great
liner enough to secure the rescue ships to the other side. 80,000
tons of gradually sinking vessel will easily drag the would-be
rescuers down with it.
At last it began to dawn on everyone on the White Star liner,
what we crazy Russians were trying to do. Obviously we were
trying to get a ship alongside and obviously any boats in the way
were going to get crushed. Carefully the Uralsk moved down the
starboard side of the Titanic amid much shouting and cajoling.
Clearly language difficulties presented a problem also, but this
was gradually overcome by the armed marines. The sailors found a
rifle with a bayonet was a powerful language tool.
Immediately, the weighted curtain was dropped over the side from
the cranes. It was now a frantic race against the sea for the
survival of the huge vessel. The cranes swung it out hard against
the side of the liner while the twin derricks paid out the pump
hoses through the service doors in the hull of the settling ship.
Valentina had gone over to the salvage ship to personally
supervise the operation. Kuropatkin decided he was running out of
time and ordered the other vessels to go alongside to take the
passengers off. He trusted Valentina would be able to control the
flooding.
Specially built gangways were secured across the gap between the
liner and the rescue ships. Immediately the throng of passengers
began to disembark unbidden, illuminated by powerful floodlights.
Watching, the Kommador thought it was a magnificent sight.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The liner had been predicted to sink at 2.20am. It was now
1.45am and the bow of the vessel still appeared to be sinking
lower in the water. Kuropatkin was worried and called Valentina
on the Uralsk.
"What's the situation, Admiral?" he asked.
"We have to pump out each compartment in turn, starting from the
sternmost and working forward. The curtain is holding, but water
is still coming in through the lower port holes. It is slow-going
and very dangerous in there. I have to regard the safety of the
pumping crews paramount. I think I can hold her, but it will be a
close thing. Alexie?" she dropped her voice, "I don't think we
can save the ship. Seven compartments are fully flooded. I
estimate there must be about 7000 tons of water inside her. The
strain on the hull is opening up gaps in her plating. She'll
never survive a tow."
"A pity," the Kommador replied, "it would've been nice to bring
her into New York."
"I'm sorry, Alexie, but I always thought it unlikely considering
the size of her and the damage to the hull. How is the rescue
going?"
"About 600 so far are on the Alma. It's quite treacherous because
of the angle of the gangways. There are so many elderly, you
can't rush them."
"Well, keep them moving. I'll try to keep the hull from breaking
up as long as I can."
By 2.15am we had disembarked over half the passengers. A series
of gangways allowed the people to be distributed between the
'Sviatitoi' and the 'Alma.' The distraught survivors were lodged
among the 'Alma's' messes irrespective of class distinction. We
had no master/servant notions in the Navy.
Naturally there developed a number of 'scenes' as some haughty
aristocrats refused to be mixed in with their social 'inferiors.'
Captain Koscuiko of the 'Alma' was under orders not to tolerate
this. Indeed the son of Ukrainian postal worker, the good Captain
was unlikely to stand much nonsense.
Valentina made some attempt at 'counter flooding' by pumping some
of the water aft. She hoped to be able to lift the bow a fraction
and settle the ship on a more even keel. The big worry was the
big open spaces of the engine and boiler rooms. These caused a
natural weakness in the structure of the ship and was the obvious
place for her to break in two. By 2.30am it was becoming obvious
the big liner's hull was beginning to distort, stressing the
plating around it's mid-section.
The varying quality of the steel used in the ship made it
difficult to predict it's ductility under such an immense load.
It was becoming too dangerous for our ships and crews.
At 2.40am, Valentina recommended we get clear. Our efforts had
brought the ship maybe half an hour. We had, though, some 1800 of
the passengers tucked away in the rescue ships. Reluctantly, we
struck the gangways and mooring hawsers and our ships gradually
inched away. The remaining people on board were told to use the
scrambling nets we fastened to Titanic's side and they would be
picked up by boats. Thankfully the children, the weak and the
elderly had all been taken off by this time and we were
optimistic we could pull the remaining survivors from the sea
before the cold overcame them.
At around 3am the great ship finally groaned and with a loud
crack. the bow broke from the rest of the ship. By then the rest
of the people were in the water or lying on the many rafts and
floats we distributed for that purpose. Promptly the motor boats,
their wakes foaming in the cold, dark water, rushed in to
complete the final task.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Balardi's co-explorer, an American by the name of Cooper,
shuffled in frustration. He hadn't come on this expedition to
hear the same story of the Titanic rescue that every schoolchild
learns in History class. They were bobbing out here in the
Atlantic to find the 'Sovereign of the Seas,' the unbelievably
valuable John P Stoddard diamond pendant.
Alexie Kuropatkin had little time for diamond hunters. Oh, he
knew where the Stoddard's safe was alright. Lying on the seabed
some 500 metres from the wreck. In fact right underneath the
position of the Cruiser 'Makarov' some 50 years ago. He also knew
that, apart from some now soggy documents and bank notes, the
safe was empty.
"So where the hell is the diamond?" growled the impatient
American.
Kuropatkin's eyes moistened. Looking into the middle distance as
if calling on some memory, he muttered, almost inaudibly.
"What?" Cooper pressed the question.
"With the Uralsk," Kuropatkin repeated evenly, while looking
straight at the young man.
"With the... what? What the f..."
Balardi silenced his companion.
"Tell us the story, Admiral. What happened to the Uralsk?" he
asked kindly.
"U Boat, 1915. During the Great War. It was sunk in the Baltic
with all hands."
Kuropatkin put his hands to his face and began to weep. The two
explorers looked at each other in exasperation. Cooper stumped
out of the cabin cursing loudly. Balardi, though remained to
comfort the old man.
This is despite having to tell his investors they will be
empty-handed. That rather than his sanguine predictions of great
wealth, they were going to be left with a massive debt. The
expedition was likely to be a financial disaster.
"So," Balardi asked the old man, hesitantly, "Admiral Golovna...
she was on board? The Uralsk, I mean."
The old Admiral nodded.
"We searched for days. All we found was a bit of floating
wreckage. After the war, I thought she might have been picked up
by the Germans and held somewhere. I made enquiries when our
people were repatriated, but..."
"I'm so sorry," said Balardi, touching the old Russian's arm,
"you must have loved her very much."
Kuropatkin began to sob, now with less restraint.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Kuropatkin remembered the Stoddards. Head of a vast American
rairoad and industrial empire, John Perceval Stoddard was one of
the most wealthy men of his age. Indeed the Stoddard Museum of
the the Arts and Sciences is one of richest institutions in the
world. Certainly the envy of many, including the famous St
Petersburg Museum.
All this was accomplished by the exercise of monopoly capitalism,
that peculiarly American phenomenon. Of course that was until the
great crash of 1929 that sent the whole rotten ediface crashing
like a house of cards.
John P was a blustering bullock of a man. His wife, his fifth,
was an over-pearled ex-starlet who, the Admiral supposed, he
hadn't married for her great wit and intelligence.
Stoddard was a man who expected everyone to do his bidding, no
matter how trivial or unreasonable the request. The man had
bullied his way onto one of the first of the lifeboats and, it
was to Kuropatkin's misfortune, this had been towed to the
Makarov.
He had arived at the grey side of the cruiser with a load of
baggage, manservant and maid. Then, while boats of sodden
distraught passengers were still being brought to the ladder,
insisted the Makarov's crew unload their belongings first.
Incensed at the abuse of his crew's goodwill, Kuropatkin stormed
down to the well-deck of the cruiser and confronted the man.
Towering over the Kommador by a full 6 inches, Stoddard puffed
himself up and bellowed at Kuropatkin.
"Do you know who I am!" he demanded.
"I don't care who you are sir," the Kommador replied, "there are
people in the water and I need those boats turned around and back
over there," he said, indicating the sinking liner.
"I'm John P Stoddard..." the man continued.
"Seamen," Alexie said, looking past the American, "dump that
stuff over the side."
"NO!" screamed Stoddard's wife, staring at the grinning sailors,
"my jewelry..."
She then leapt down the ladder in three bounds, dropping squarely
into the middle of the lifeboat. Kuropatkin was amazed at her
agility. As the baggage began to go over the side, she wrestled
with the safe, eventually getting the door open before the
sailors reached it. Grabbing handfuls of jewelry, she stuffed
them down the front of her dress before a sailor wrenched it out
of her hands and threw it into the water.
"This is an outrage!" Stoddard continued to rant, "Y'know I know
Tsar Nicholas personally and I will..."
"Marine!" the Kommador yelled, "get this buffoon out of my face."
There followed an unseemly struggle, as the Stoddards refused to
be moved. Eventually, it took three more Marines to finally shift
the couple from the well-deck. Kuropatkin had them lodged in one
of the cabins with a marine guard outside. Later, he had them
transfered to the Alma with the proviso they be 'kept quiet.'
However, shortly after they had been forced from the deck, a
sailor showed Kuropatkin a magnificent Diamond pendant he'd found
lying on the deck.
"The lady must have dropped it sir," he said, "shall I take it to
her?"
"No, fuck it, help those people from the boats. I'll give it to
her when I've got time."
With that, Kuropatkin took it from the sailor and put it in his
pocket.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Some time later, when we were on the way to New York, I found it
in my pocket," the old man told Balardi, "I don't really know why
I didn't hand it back. I was still angry about the way they were
behaving. They caused trouble in the Alma all the way back to
port. I was glad to get rid of them. I guess I just kept
forgetting. I thought it was just cheap costume jewelry, a paste
fake. It didn't occur to me it was worth millions. Then, of
course, the story went around that it went down with the safe and
then the insurance company paid out. Well, to tell the truth, I
wasn't going to give it up then, was I? It may have meant the end
of my career. The truth is," he went on, "Stoddard DID know the
Tsar after all."
"So how then did Admiral Golovna come to be in possession of it?"
Balardi asked.
"Ah," Kuropatkin replied, grinning, "that is a long story."
---------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was well overhead when the fleet cruised past the statue
of liberty to enter New York harbour. The ships were moored
together at the White Star quay with throngs of well-wishers
shouting and clapping as they tied up. It was chaos ashore and
Kuropatkin worried about the security of the Naval vessels. In
particular, his ultra-modern warships.
The Union was just coming to grips with the new age of oil-firing
for boilers. Like most of Europe, it's warships still sported
'ram bows' and belched tons of black sulferous smoke into the
atmosphere. Unlike the 'new-build' Russian fleet, their Navy was
old-fashioned-looking and crude by comparison. Clearly, the
Russian 1st Scouting Squadron was going to cause a great deal of
interest.
This was an age of paranoia in international affairs fueled by
great rivalries as empires decayed and new ones grew in their
place. Spying was considered second nature to any Nation and
these new-fangled Russkies clearly had a lot of secrets to hide.
Therefore Kuropatkin chose to remain on the flagship with a
considerable armed Marine Guard.
Not so General-Admiral Valentina Golovna, however. A grateful
Nation wished to shower her with awards and congratulations for
the rescue of so many of her prominent citizens. After being
whisked to a reception at the Russian Embassy, where she received
a phone call from none other than the Tsar himself, she was given
a civic welcome at the Town Hall. The mayor of New York conferred
the freedom of that great city on the Officers and crew of the
Russian Squadron.
Politics, of course, were never far away and it was not missed on
some of the sceptical Russian press that the enthusiasm of the
welcome might have something to do with a cooling of the 40 year
old relationship between the Russian Empire and the Confederate
States. Indeed the recent discovery of oil in the Russian
Province of Alaska might also have had a bearing. Might Union
investors be preferred over those from Richmond, or Charleston?
The USA wanted to be friends again after so many years of frosty
relations.
So Admiral Golovna was wined and dined and fetched up in one of
New York's finest Hotels, the 'Abraham Lincoln.'
Valentina wondered why the Americans should want to name such a
fine Hotel after one of her most ignominious Presidents. One who
presided over the break-up of the United States and been forced
to sign one of the most humiliating documents in history, the
formal order of the dissolution of the Union.
Nevertheless nothing was spared in the pursuit of her comfort and
the suite of rooms at the hotel were far more sumptuous than her
home in Kronstadt. The only thing she missed was someone to share
it with and he couldn't be enticed out of his flagship.
The Russian Embassy and the US State Department had combined to
provide minders that watched her every move. The Embassy was
terrified she might be tempted to reveal secrets to her American
minders and her American minders were there to ensure she wanted
for nothing. And to tempt a few secrets from her. This close
watching was quickly becoming claustrophobic for Valentina.
Finally, one night she decided she'd had enough. Donning civilian
clothes, incuding a large cloak and hood, she slipped out of her
bedroom window to the fire escape. Creeping down the landing, she
found an unoccupied room and slipped in. Then it was merely a
matter of walking out through the Hotel lobby and into the
street. Finding a public payphone, she dialed the Makarov through
the Embassy's own exchange.
"Alexie? It's Valentina. Meet me on 5th Avenue, by Saks... that
is an order."
She then hailed a taxi and went downtown. Giving the man ten
dollars she ordered him to keep the Oldsmobile waiting.
At long last Alexie pulled up in another taxi. He was resplendent
in his Navy Whites and stood out like a sore thumb. Valentina
quickly told him to jump in and ordered the driver to put his
foot down.
"You idiot!" she remonstrated, "who is not going to remember a
Russian senior Naval Officer in full dress in the middle of an
American city?"
"This is New York," he replied, "no-one would remember if I was
naked."
"That's a thought!" she chuckled.
"So why the disguise anyway? Have you stolen the mayor's chain?"
he asked.
"No, I'm just sick of being followed around by a pair of
sheepdogs."
"Whose? Theirs or ours?"
"Both! Then there are others who watch the watchers and so on.
When I go out for a bagel I have this retinue following behind,
half of whom are pretending they're not. It's too much!"
"So," Kuropatkin asked, "where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere," she replied. Then after a pause, she looked at him
and said, "there's something else."
"What?"
"I'm very, very horny."
"Oh," Kuropatkin replied looking out the window, abashed, "I
suppose we could go back to the ship. Most of the crew are on
shore leave, um, except for about 20 Marines and the maintenance
teams. Most of those would've turned in. Your sheepdogs wouldn't
dare step on board, Saari Laaktinaviki is in charge of the
guard."
"Who? Should I be impressed?"
"You should be," Alexie chuckled, "he was in charge of the
Marines we stationed on the Titanic."
"Oh him!" Valentina gasped, "but he's a monster!"
"Yes," the Kommador replied, "but he's our monster."
The Admiral Makarov was the nameship of class of heavy cruisers
built for the Russian Navy from 1902 till 1906. All in all 6 were
built and, typically with the Russian navy, two were built in the
Arkangelisky yard, two at the St Petersburg Ironworks and two at
the Black Sea Navy yard at Feodosiya.
630ft long and tipping the scales at a whopping 29,000 tons,
these vessels dwarfed even the largest battleships of the day.
Automatic loading mechanisms were fitted to each of it's eight
main 8 inch guns. 120,000 horsepower oil-fired steam turbines
pushed the vessel along at 36 knots, running rings around the
contemporary opposition. In short, she could outrun and outshoot
anything else afloat.
Tactical command of the ship was from the 'comcentre' situated
below the base of the forward control tower. It was encased in
armour nearly 10 inches thick. Navigation control was from the
'Bridge Suite,' four decks above that. This consisted of an
'upper' and 'lower' bridge. The 'lower' was where the ship was
'conned' in normal situations. The 'upper' was an emergency
navigation station, used, say in a battle or in particularly
heavy weather. The bridges were duplicated on the aft tower in
case the 'main' was knocked out.
When the Captain was on duty, and not on the Bridge, he would
probably be in the 'day cabin.' In the Russian Navy, this was the
Captain's Station from where he or she could conduct their
numerous administrative activities. This was situated one deck
below the 'Lower' Bridge, so they could be easily reached in a
crisis.
When the Captain was off-duty, however, their 'Private Quarters'
provided the means of sanctuary. Situated between the Day Cabin
and the Comcentre, it was understood throughout the ship that
within that wood-panelled interior, the Captain could only be
disturbed by a dire emergency.
Valentina followed Kuropatkin over the gangway to the Makarov.
Two Marines in quilted jackets and fur hats snapped a salute as
they recognised their Commander. Alexie noticed a little flick of
their eyes as they strove to recognise the figure following their
Kommador. Kuropatkin grinned as he noted their respectful nods,
rather than the salute expected upon encountering an Admiral.
They had not recognised Valentina.
Two more guards snapped to attention as Kuropatkin and Valentina
moved foreward to the Captain's Private Quarters. As they passed
the guards shared a private smile, 'the Captain had got himself a
piece of American pussy.' Well so what! When they had their spell
ashore...
Giggling like schoolchildren the two senior Officers threaded
their way along the darkened ship towards the tall foreward
control tower. The armoured hatch at the base of the tower was
open, indeed it was normally open unless at 'action stations.'
Outside the door to his quarters, a guard stood rigidly holding
his assault rifle and bayonet. As Alexie unlocked the door he
told the guard to take a break.
"Have a cup of tea, Yuri," he ordered.
"Will the Captain be wanting anything?" the guard asked,
innocently.
"I have everything I need, thanks," Kuropatkin replied to the
perceptably smirking guard.
Together they listened to the clumping of the guard's retreating
boots.
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall of the Marine's Messroom,"
Valentina told Kuropatkin, "the Captain has a piece of totty."
"Well, I'm off-duty," he told her a little defensively, "if
there's a breach of Tsar's regulations, I haven't heard of it."
"Well now, when an Officer of the Tsar is in uniform they are
considered to be subject to regulations, no?"
"In theory," he agreed.
"And this might be considered conduct unbecoming an officer, no?"
"How so?" he asked, "I can have female guests in my Private
Quarters. Hell every Captain in the fleet would be hung by that
rule..."
"So," Valentina interrupted, "shouldn't you get yourself out of
Uniform... to be absolutely sure."
A grin spread over Alexie's face.
"Is that an order, Admiral?"
"A request!" the Admiral told him.
"In that case, surely a loyal Officer must consent to a direct
'request' from a Flag Officer."
So saying, he unbuttoned his jacket and took it off. Valentina
hastily snatched at it as he looked to carefully tidy it away in
the wardrobe.
"Oh hurry up!" she chided.
As she tossed it aside something hit the floor. Picking it up,
she saw it was a diamond pendant.
"What's this?" she asked.
Kuropatkin explained how a seaman had given it to him after
finding it lying on the well-deck.
"It's the Stoddard's diamond, the 'Sovereign of the seas,' oh
Alexie, you'd better not be found with this," she said in shock.
"I thought it was some cheap bit of costume jewelry..."
Kuropatkin said in panic.
"Cheap, bit? Oh you idiot! Look at the quality of the setting?
That's 22 carat gold... look, there's the hallmark..."
"I didn't know..."
"And the size of that rock! See how it catches the light? Call
that paste? You're a fool, Alexie! That Stoddard has the ear of
most of the world's leaders. If he finds out you've got it you'll
be standing watch on a garbage scow."
Alexie sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. In his
mind's eye he saw his career go down the toilet. All because of
that insufferable ape of a man and his witless wife. After a
period of silence, during which Valentina stood holding the
diamond to the light and Alexie stared at the floor, The
Admiral's shoulders began to shake. Gradually he became aware she
was chuckling with laughter.
"What's funny?" the Kommador asked.
"You are! Paste, huh! You are so Navy, Alexie. I bet you've salt
water in your veins and the 'Mariner's Companion' under your
pillow. It wouldn't be fair to see you casheered by that
unsufferable dork of a man. Let me take it, I'll find some way of
getting rid of it."
"Will you?" Alexie brightened, "won't you... I mean, it could be
dangerous..."
"Oh crap!" she replied, "you've passed it on to your Senior
Officer. It's no-longer your concern. Now are you going to remove
that uniform or not?"
Alexie hurredly finished undressing to the delight of the
Admiral. When he lay naked, reclining on the bed, she came and
stood over him. Holding the pendant to his chest she drew it
gently over his body. He jerked at the feel of the hard stone
against his skin. Playfully, Valentina draped the chain of the
pendant over his cock, sticking straight up in the air.
"Now that's a nice display," she said, clicking her tongue,
"there's not an ounce of fat on you, is there?"
Alexie grinned.
"Can I sketch you?" she asked.
"Sketch?"
"Yes, I'm a draughtswoman you know, among other things."
"Sure, I guess," he replied, breathing heavily with arousal.
Hastily she grabbed a pad from the bureau.
"Now stay like that," she added, nodding towards his erection
with it's 100 carat adornment.
"How?"
Busying herself with a pencil, she replied,
"You'll think of something... Like what you're shortly going to
be doing with that, for instance."
With that, she bent and kissed him passionately on the mouth,
while giving his cock a little rub. As the session continued and
his pulsating member began to wilt, she unbuttoned her uniform
shirt a fraction and slipped her hand inside.
"Think, my darling, you're shortly going to be sucking these."
As she played with her own breasts, Alexie's cock began to rise
again in response. Valentina's nipples were hard and urgent, in
anticipation of what was to come.
"Think of your balls in my mouth and your tongue in my pussy,
baby," she breathed.
By such means Alexie remained hard until Valentina had finished
drawing. Becoming aware she'd stopped working, Alexie asked,
"Are you done yet?"
"I guess, want to see?"
But Alexie had had enough of delayed lust. Vaulting from the bed,
he grabbed Valentina and threw her on her back across the covers.
As she made to complain, he silenced her with his mouth as he
fell on top of her. He kissed her fiercely before working his way
down her neck to nuzzle into the valley between her breasts.
Valentina squirmed and returned his passion, clutching at his
strong back and thrusting her boiling crotch at him. Tearing at
her shirt, she popped her buttons in her haste to bare herself
for him. Alexie pulled down the cups of her bra and fastened his
mouth to each breast in turn. Heaving her arse up off the bed she
begged him to take her pants off. Standing up, he jerked them
roughly down to her ankles before renewing the assault.
Opening herself up for him, she urged him to fuck her quickly.
"Hard, Alexie," she gasped, "oh fast and hard... I want this...
you, oh!"
Furiously Alexie ravaged her, with Valentina throwing herself
back at him with equal fierceness. Through clenched teeth, she
screamed and howled as they pounded each other to completion. He
was achingly hard, she was liquid fire, and locking her legs over
his she drew him into her as hard as she could.
"Uh... oh baby," she wailed, "oh I want... to feel... ooo... you
come baby..."
Grunting, Alexie poured seemingly gallons of hot sperm into the
fire of Valentina's pussy. Shuddering at the sensation, she told
him afterwards that the feeling had made her come all over again.
"Again?" he asked, confused.
"Again, you idiot!" she chided, laughing.
"So how many times did you, Y'know..."
"Have an orgasm?" she giggled, "let me see..."
She began counting up on her fingers while Alexie stared in
wonderment.
"Oh you're so easy to tease!" she said laughing.
------------------------------------------------------------
"So Valentina took over the diamond?" Balardi confirmed.
The old man nodded, still lost in the memories.
"She came down every night after that, during our stay in New
York. She had a real thirst for conspiracy and adventure. There
were times when..."
"Yes," Balardi interrupted, "it sounds like you and her had a
real good thing going?"
"It wasn't just the sex," the old Admiral told him, "it was
something deeper, much deeper than love even. We were one, body
and soul. We knew what each other was thinking, feeling. When we
were oceans away, we knew when the other was in danger. When she
was visiting Tahiti in the summer of 1913, I drew warmth from
her, even though I was stationed in the White Sea. Have you ever
had a love like that?"
"Sounds like the real thing," Balardi replied uncomfortably.
"Even now," the old man continued, "when I think about her I feel
the heat of the tropics. It's as if she's still alive some place,
some warm place. Not lying somewhere at the bottom of the
Baltic."
"Yeah, well, the mind..." Balardi started to say.
"Mine is as sharp as it's ever been!" Kuropatkin reacted, "I know
she's gone, but I still feel her, here!" he added stabbing at his
chest.
"Ok, ok," Balardi said, "look I'm real sorry about Valentina,
Admiral, it's just..."
"No, it's quite alright," Alexie replied, "after all, it was 50
years ago."
Later in the day, as the old man left by chopper back towards the
US and a flight home, Balardi discussed what he'd just heard with
his mate, Cooper.
"Suppose she alive and living somewhere?" he asked Cooper, "she's
still might have the 'Sovereign'."
"A long shot, Frankie," Cooper told him.
"Yeah, but hey, I'm going to lose my shirt anyway. What's there
to lose?"
They both agreed to try.
--------------------------------------------------------------
It hadn't cost them that much. The news media loved the story and
were only too happy to syndicate it to a world audience. They
could be reasonably sure that Valentina, if she was still alive,
was not living in Russia. Surely the old man would've tracked her
down if she was.
Then came the call from Florida, in the Confederate States. A
lady said that she thought her mother was the person they were
searching for. Beauregard was her name now, but Valentina Golovna
was her maiden name and she had served in the Russian Navy.
Balardi doubted the caller at first. After all, they'd had
numerous calls from confused old ladies for the last month all
claiming to be Russian Admirals. None of them had passed first
inspection.
Then Balardi mentioned a precious jewelled pendant. That item had
been left out of the news story and had proved to be a handy test
of veracity.
"Oh, you mean mother's diamond?" the caller said.
Balardi choked on his beer.
"Yeah? what does it look like?" he asked her.
The caller then went on to descibe what must be none other than
the 'Sovereign of the Seas.'
"Hot damn, Cooper, we've hit the jackpot!" he yelled.
"Mother doesn't have it anymore," the caller said, "I remember it
from when I was a little girl."
"Can she tell us what happened to it?" he asked, hopefully.
"I'll ask her."
A short while later the woman came back to the phone.
"She wants to meet Admiral Kuropatkin," she said, "then she might
tell the story."
"Where do you live?" Balardi asked.
"Miami."
"Is it hot there?"
"Of course," the woman replied, confused.
"Damn! Cooper," he said to his companion, "the old man was right
after all."
Two weeks later, Balardi and Cooper stood in the lobby of the old
Abraham Lincoln hotel in Manhattan. Beside them was the still
upright figure of Alexie Kuropatkin, now nearing his 90th
birthday. The hotel had changed little in 50 years. The old
glittering elegance, however, was a little faded and grossly out
of fashion.
Two women walked through the revolving doors and came directly
towards them. A frail old lady hung on the arm of an attractive
woman of about 50.
"Alexie?" the old woman called, her voice quivering with age,
"you've got old!"
Tears streamed down the face of the old Admiral. He took the hand
of the old woman and held it to his cheek.
"My Valentina!" he croaked, his voice choked with emotion.
"Right folks," said Balardi with satisfaction, "shall we go into
the dining room? I hear they do a great borsch here."
Later, in the dining room, the two old Admirals sat together.
"See, my dear," Valentina told her daughter, "your Father was
kind and gentle, and I loved him for that. But Alexie... it was
always passion. Even when we were far apart... always passion."
Kuropatkin had yet to release Valentina's hand. He held on as if
she was going to vanish in the mist.
"So what happened in the Baltic? In 1915?" Balardi asked.
"The Uralsk?"
He nodded.
"We took two torpedos for'ard. The Diesel fuel for the generators
caught fire and we had to abandon ship. It sank very quickly, a
pity, she was a good ship. It was very cold. Gagarin pushed me
onto a floating door and stayed with me. He sucumbed, poor soul.
He was a good Officer."
"Then what happened?" asked Balardi.
"I thought I was going to freeze to death. I would have too, but
I kept hearing you, Alexie, in my heart. I heard you clear as
day. 'You must go on'. Did you say that Alexie?" she asked
Kuropatkin.
"Every day of my life, Valentina," the old man told her.
"You were always an atrocious liar," she replied to him. "Anyway,
I was about to give up when I felt this searchlight on my face. I
managed to find my whistle, they had them on all the life jackets
in those days. And I blew it for all I was worth. Presently, this
great hook came over and hauled me up the side of a U Boat."
"So the Germans did have you!" Alexie exclaimed.
"You're the only one who's 'had' me my pet," she cooed to the old
man.
"Now who's the liar?" Kuropatkin chuckled.
"Go on," Balardi insisted.
"So we sailed back to Danzig and they put me in one of their
dreadful Stalags for the duration. Then in 1918 they had that
bloody revolution in that part of Germany, remember?"
"Yes, the Octoberist revolt," Balardi said, "but they would've
released you, wouldn't they?"
"Well, most of the Russian prisoners were sent home except for
the most valuable. Unfortunately, they considered me something of
a bargaining chip."
The old woman sighed.
"The sold me to the British Commissars."
"Bastards!" Alexie exclaimed.
"Twenty long years I spent there, Alexie. I eventually ended up
in one of their blasted labour camps somewhere near the top of
Scotland. I thought I'd die there. They gave up trying to get me
to work for them, you see, and then I was something of an
embarrassment, I think. I don't think they knew how to get rid of
me."
"So you escaped?"
"1938, yes. First to France and then eventually to the
Confederacy. I'd met Pierre by then, Y'see. I'm sorry, Alexie, I
thought you must have married by then and I didn't want to spoil
your life. I, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing you married
to someone else, seeing your children. 'You must go on,' that's
what you always said, wasn't it?"
"Yes... I did marry, eventually. She died last year, cancer!"
"See!"
"And Pierre, he was a good man?" Kuropatkin asked her.
"Oh yes," she replied, "he was military. He retired a Major
General in the 1st Virginian Armoured Division. It was called the
Robert E Lee Division you know?"
"And you?" Alexie asked.
"I stayed at home and raise three childern. It was a good life,
Alexie. We had a nice house in Richmond. After Pierre died, I
moved to Florida. And what happened to you, my heart?"
"I finished the war a full Admiral," he told her, "they offered
me an honourable discharge and I took it. I looked for you for
years, but eventually I gave up. Married a clerk at the Naval
records office and moved to Port Arthur in Manchuria. I became
harbour master there until I retired. I then moved to Wrangel in
Alaska. I have three boys, all in the Navy."
"Well, I'm sure you will have lots of time to catch up," Balardi
interrupted, "but now, can you tell me where the diamond is?"
"Ah that! Is that all you're after?" the old lady replied, "well
I was taking a trip up North one summer, in about 1956. Pierre's
cousin was the owner of a fishing fleet out of New York and I
begged him to take me out to where the Titanic sank. I hadn't
been to sea for so long..."
"Oh no!" Balardi winced.
Much later, the two Admirals were still holding hands.
Katzmarek (C)
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