1 January 1924
On a cool Madras day, with the sun flitting from cloud to cloud, thousands sit in a wall of wooden bleachers, watching an empty slipway with anticipation. Just two months ago, this space was occupied by a light cruiser, a vessel now tied up several hundred yards away, its superstructure partly complete.
Out in the harbour, dozens of foreign warships lay at anchor, ranging from nimble grey destroyers to battlecruisers still working up. Many are well known and represent the cutting edge of their types: Mocambique , Sviatoslav , Siboney , Regina Elena . Others are seasoned veterans, no longer new but still to be respected: Bretagne , De Hollandia , Thor . A large part of Indian naval power is present - two elderly dreadnoughts, attended to by five cruisers, several destroyers, and a half-dozen other vessels.
A frail, bald man walks bare-foot to a podium before the crowd. Clad only in a white cotton robe, he leans toward the microphone and utters a sentence that none of the visitors understand. The Indian attendees, however, quickly rise to their feet and bow their heads, prompting the visitors to follow their lead with alacrity. The man - a Hindu priest - says a brief prayer, asking for the health and well-being of all who are present. He then sits down in a nearby chair and the crowd quick to return to theirs.
An honor guard of Indian Naval Infantry marches in from the left, their legs and arms moving in unison as the sergeant in command grunts indecipherable orders to them. Six stop on each side of the podium and stand at attention. Immediately, three more men march out; two wear the uniform of the Chosen, the third the unique attire of the Admiral of the Navy. The two sentinels take station behind and to the sides of the Admiral as he settles before the podium.
Admiral Sanjay Das is a slightly portly man of sixty years. His uniform fits him perfectly, a suit of white with silver and gold thread. A Raj’s Sapphire dangles from a ribbon on the left breast of his jacket, sparkling in the sun. The admiral speaks for several minutes in Hindi before giving an abbreviated version in English, which is to be the second language of this ceremony. “Honored guests and fellow citizens”, he begins. “Centuries ago, our shores lay undefended against the predations of those who would have struck us down. Invaders came, landed as they chose, and established enclaves to allow them to exploit our economy, depose our chosen leadership, and impose their religions upon us. It was with great effort, and much giving of blood, that we ejected the invaders.”
“We have learned from this mistake. Almost forty years ago, the nation gained a new line of defense in the Bharatiya Nau Sena, first with torpedo boats and protected cruisers, then light cruisers and pre-dreadnoughts, and at last with true battleships. Today, we take our next step towards establishing the Bharatiya Nau Sena as the dominant naval force in this part of the world; today, we begin to build our own battleships.”
The admiral pauses as Indian attendees cheer raucously and the foreign visitors applaud politely. Not everybody in attendance is particularly pleased with the Admiral’s words, after all. “I will ask Mr. Dhiren Naidu to tell you of our venture. Mr. Naidu has supervised the design of the battleship since scoping studies began in 1920.”
From the right comes a rumble, and twenty naval infantry come into view, pulling an jagganath. Usually, these enormous wooden carts bear the image of a deity and are dragged through city streets during religious festivals. Today, the icon has been replaced by a large, canvas-shrouded object.
By the time the cart has ground to a halt beside the podium, Naidu has arrived at the podium from the other direction. The nation’s leading naval architect is a thin, gangly, older gentleman in a khaki suit. His voice quavers slightly as he speaks - he’s more accustomed to lecturing a half dozen of his staff, as opposed to more strangers than he can count. “Warship design is not a simple process”, he begins. “It is easy to say that a ship should be faster, better armed, and better protected than its opponents, but one rarely has the resources to make this a reality. When constrained by law, the task becomes that much more difficult.”
“In designing a battleship for the Bharatiya Nau Sena, we have to recognize our own limitations - we have never built such a ship before, our industrial capacity is limited, and it must work within the scope of the Cleito Treaty. We must look out at those around us and consider how to counter their vessels - Dutch great cruisers, British dreadnoughts, American standards, et cetera; a confusing mix of fast and slow, armored and fragile, heavy hitting and lightly armed. We have thought long and hard on this; tested our South African-built dreadnoughts, examined foreign dreadnoughts and great cruisers, looked for trends and technologies to be aware of.”
“Our answer is thus”, Naidu says, and the canvas is whisked off an eighteen-foot long model warship sitting on the jagganatha.
It’s a peculiar vessel; wide-beamed, with a slightly bulbous bow. A massive quadruple gun turret is situated forward, another aft. Super-firing over each main turret is a smaller twin turret, and other those, super-fire two more. The superstructure is a tall, narrow tower, with an imposing heptapodal mast looming over it. The mast looks almost Japanese in origin, not dis-similar to what has been seen in some design sketches of the Tosa class; the mast’s platforms are liberally adorned with searchlights, range finders, and communications lamps. Aft of this are two funnels with the ship’s boats between them. On either side of each funnel, a small twin mount is situated. The aft superstructure is a smaller tower, with a tripod mast. A catapult and crane sit at the stern of the ship.
“Here she is. Four years in the making, a dreadnought of almost twenty-seven thousand tons, carrying eight thirty-five centimeter guns developed from existing South African, German, and Austro-Hungarian designs. Able to shrug off hits of similar-sized guns at great distances, and fast enough to run down her foes. A truly modern capital ship.”
The Indian attendees are on their feet, cheering; some of the foreigners are also standing, though often so that their view is not obscured by the locals. Almost everybody taking a critical look upon the model can find fault with her:
“She’d lose half her broadside to a single hit.”
“She’s only got eight secondary guns.”
“She’s too fat to be a fast dreadnought.”
“What are they thinking with that ghastly pagoda?”
Naidu bows as the applause continues, and takes a seat beside Admiral Das. The cheering escalates as an exquistely-tailored man strides to the podium. It’s the Raj; though he may be plump and losing his hair, he exudes exceptional self-confidence and charisma. The emperor of India smiles as he arrives at the podium and the cheering cuts off instantly.
“Honored guests, and citizens of India, I thank you for joining me today for this most joyous occasion. Today we invoke the memory of a great warrior and diplomat, a man who inherited the throne as a teenager. He survived intrigue and war to expand our frontiers. He fought barbarian and nature alike to preserve the state.
“Though just four generations removed from the great conqueror Tamerlane the Mongol, he was no despot bent on violence and plunder. He wed a Hindi princess, tried to reconcile Islam and Hinduism, and fostered the arts. He established a stable, effective government whose institutions evolved into those that serve the nation today. Without Akbar, there would be no India as we know it.”
A crane situated behind the slipway stirs, slowly slinging a steel beam toward the center of the slip. The Raj continues: “As we honored our glorious emperors of times past before, so do we honor them once more. The first battleship built by Indian hands shall be named for a man who built India: let construction of the Emperor Jalal ud Din Akbar begin!”
The beam is deposited on the slipway as the Raj concludes his speech. Flashbulbs pop by the dozen as reporters vie for the best image; the winner will no doubt experience strong newspaper sales the following day.
The old priest makes his way back out to the slipway and the audience stands again. He stands before the steel beam as if it were an altar, and utters another prayer. This time, he asks for the safety of the battleship and all who sail upon her, whether in peace or war. He asks that she be victorious and honorable in war, and alert and merciful in peace. Finally, he asks for the safety and well-being of all who will spend the next three years working in this yard.
A twenty-one gun salute begins out in the harbour, as the heavy cruiser Male receives the order to fire turret Anton. The twenty-one centimeter practice round heads out to an empty stretch of water that has been subtly kept clear of traffic by local patrol units. She fires five rounds in all, concluding with turret Emil, then the battleship Dara Shikoh fires off her eight guns in sequence. The dreadnought Babur concludes the salute by sending eight thirty point five centimeters shells rumbling down range.
As the last report fades away, the Indian guests instinctively stand and start to leave, while many visitors check their programs to confirm that the ceremony is over. It is. Now they only have to weather out whatever India considers a proper formal dinner...
2 January
It’s the largest naval review ever held in Indian waters. Contingents from Great Britain, the United States, South Africa, Russia, Denmark, Atlantis, the Netherlands, the Philippines, Iberia, and Italy are arrayed with Indian warships across the harbour in several lines. Seven capital ships, over a dozen cruisers, and numerous destroyers are looking their best, recently painted and scrubbed down just in case the Raj decides to pay a visit.
The harbourfront is a scene of organized chaos, as berths are being kept clear for boats and launches ferrying civilians and guests alike to those vessels that are open for tours. The lines are longest for the capital ships and larger cruisers, and shortest for the aircraft carriers - though the people touring the carriers are surprisingly knowledgeable about the state of naval aviation, and have interesting perspectives for their hosts.
Overhead, Indian aircraft of several types drone across the sky. The South African airship SA4 slowly circles the city, treating a few lucky passengers to a spectacular aerial tour of Madras and its visitors.
Around ten in the morning, the Raj, Rana, and sixteen year-old Princess Mamtaz arrive in a pinnace to begin inspecting the assembled warships. Escorted by four small patrol boats, the pinnace begins nearest to shore and cruises slowly down the starboard side of the line. Part way down, a patrol boat peels away toward the Russian cruiser Sviatoslav ; the royal couple has chosen their first tour of the day. The cruiser has about twenty minutes to prepare for this, which is adequate - though the ship is new, her captain is a veteran who has trained his crew to handle any crisis - including short-notice diplomatic missions.
The tour of Sviatoslav is by necessity brief, lasting just thirty minutes. Rear-Admiral Ivanov concludes the tour by giving the Raj a box of Black Sea caviar; the Raj thanks him and presents an etched copper engraving of Akbar , whose construction has properly commenced now that the work area is cleared of VIPs. Only ten such engravings exist; nine will be handed over to visiting warships today, while the tenth will be turned over to Akbar ’s captain when she commissions.
Along the next line, the Raj visits the Dutch Z19 , which comes as a bit of a surprise to her young captain (and the Dutch squadron commander, who barely manages to get over to the tiny ship before the tour begins). The Raj expresses his respect for the courage and skill of Dutch destroyermen, who fought the Indians to a stand-still in the Andamans seven years ago. He presents the captain with an engraving, and moves on.
The Atlantean aircraft carrier Siboney is third to be visited. One of the world’s premier flat-tops, she’s certainly the largest in the harbour. Although the Raj enjoys the tour, it’s clear to the carrier’s skipper that the Rana made this selection; the Empress of India is an aircraft enthusiast of the first order.
South Africa’s Mocambique is fourth. The Raj recognizes and greets one Lieutenant-Commander Wim van de Loo, who as an exchange officer on the cruiser Columbo , was present when the ship duelled with Asirite artillery at As Salif in 1920. Van de Loo is one of a few non-Indian holders of a Raj’s Ruby, won for his heroism in preventing an explosion of Columbo ’s torpedoes following a major-caliber hit.
The Danish cruiser Vaerge is fifth; the Raj observes that the Danes were one of a few who came to India with good intentions and didn’t overstay their welcome. He gives an engraving to Vaerge ’s captain with the hope that the two nations will be able to maintain good relations in the future.
Sixth on the tour is the Italian destroyer Varese . The Raj is impressed with the large destroyer, and thanks her captain and Admiral Socritano for their cooperation with Indian authorities in trying to quell gun smuggling in the Red Sea. The captain is pleased to offer his guests a mid-afternoon snack of pizza, which is happily accepted.
Next comes the Filipino cruiser Palawan . The senior Filipino officer on the ship, Commodore Garcia, is intrigued to hear of the Raj’s recent snack, but confesses that he’s having some difficulty as a result of the curried lamb at the formal dinner last night. Palawan’s captain, fortunately, has some diplomatic savvy and is able to provide the royal couple with a quick but comprehensive tour of his command.
The eighth ship to be visited is the Iberian scout cruiser Torquemada , which is commended for its role in the war on piracy in the South China Sea. It’s later noted that young Princess Mamtaz was “establishing visual contact” with Torquemada’s executive officer rather frequently, prompting some teasing from her mother back on the pinnace.
The ninth and final tour begins just after eighteen hundred hours, and takes place aboard the USS Pennsylvania , the first American warship to visit India since 1912. The tour is relatively brief, as the Raj is starting to tire, but he tells the battleship’s captain that he likes some of the new ideas the American Navy is developing - such as “all or nothing” protection. Though surprised that an emperor would even have heard of such a thing, the captain comments that it seems to be the way of the future.
As the sun sets in the west, the last civilians are returned to the harbour. There, they walk, bicycle, or take trolleys back home, while the Raj and family are ferried over to the royal yacht Hindustaan for the night.
The review is concluded, and the “Akbar Fever” begins to release its grip over Madras...
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Many are well known and represent the cutting edge of their types: Mocambique , Sviatoslav , Siboney , Regina Elena .
Saturday, May 4th 2024, 7:08am
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Great story! 
