The harbor basin had turned into an inferno of churned water, white steam, and black coal smoke.
Nine fast steam-torpedo gunboats belonging to the Intercolonial Financial Authority broke from the main battle line, their narrow, iron-plated hulls slicing through the grey swells at eighteen knots. Atop their bow mounts, brass torpedo tubes glinted under the dawn light, aimed squarely at the high timber pilings of the District Five grain piers.
"If those gunboats reach the piers, the heat from their boiler fires alone will ignite the grain dust!" Foreman Haddon roared, leaning over the rail of the high-ridge armored car.
Rock splinters from the ongoing naval bombardment still rained down around the railway battery, but Haddon's focus was fixed entirely on the basin below. Beside him, two union ironworkers were frantically resetting the elevation pins on Mortar Number Three, forcing the massive iron barrel down to its absolute downward limit.
