Pride in their service is what people sought. In a small ship like Icarus there was no slack to take up if there was a man short, or if a man was relieved by someone with less training. Ships were doing so much sea-time that it was difficult to keep things going. The diesel generators were a typical example. Sparger disliked the Manxan diesel and Leading MEM Fane, who was reassembling No. 1 generator after having stripped it in Halifax, shared Sparger's opinion. A good hand, Fane — he never complained of the eighteen hours a day he put into maintaining his diesels, but why had Fane run amok yesterday? Was his sudden lapse a result of overwork? Fane had four children and was leaving the service to join a container ship where pay was much higher. It was a bloody shame to lose a man of his calibre: he was a specialist on Manxan diesels now, after spending so much time on them.
The MEO reached for his rule to underline the essential repairs for his defect list: i. Complete overhaul or replacement of the two diesel generators.
When the diesels were running continually, a fuel spill pipe sheared at least once a week, sometimes twice — and there was no warning. Fuel sprayed out at high pressure to shoot across the hot exhaust pipes: it was miraculous there had been no major fire yet. Whenever Fane juggled at sea to replace the fuel spill pipes, Sparger adopted full fire precautions while the other engine continued running. Although automatic co2 drenching was provided, he always rigged fire hoses. It was irritating having to take Fane off his work at this critical moment to attend Captain's Defaulters. The stand-by diesel had to be available for RAS (Replenishment at Sea) as a precaution against electrical and hydraulic failure. Joe Sparger glanced up as the Master-at-Arms tapped on the frame of his cabin door.
'Captain's Table in ten minutes, sir,'
'Right, Master. You've told the Fleet Chief?'
'He's relieving Fane now, sir. They've stopped work on the diesel.'
The WEO, Lieutenant-Commander Jones, never relished defaulters, even at Officer of the Day level. Captain's Defaulters he hated and L/RO Osgood was one of his best leading hands. What had come over him? The WEO had interviewed Osgood privately, but Osgood's lapse failed to live up to the touch of genius for which ' Oz' was renowned.
The last time the WEO defended the L/RO was after an MoD complaint: Osgood had been among a party of sailors stranded at an RAF airbase. To pass the time, they had built a mammoth snowman near the guard house on the edge of the airfield. A sergeant of the RAF, infuriated by this naval levity on RAF property, had ordered the demolition of the offending snowman. The sailors, believing this to be an inter-service challenge, refused. The RAF sergeant, incensed, jumped into the police Land-Rover. He drove it at full speed into the snowman which collapsed in a flurry of snow.
Later in the afternoon, the sergeant was once again doing his duty and carrying out his perimeter rounds. To his fury, there on the edge of the airfield, stood a super snowman, a colossus with an inviting smile on its snowy face. A hundred yards off stood Osgood and his friends, watching, anticipatory grins on their faces, a fact which should have alerted the sergeant. But he wound up the Land-Rover to full revs, lined it up carefully on his target, then charged, full tilt into the gigantic snowman. The sergeant suffered a broken jaw and concussion and the vehicle was a total write-off. The second snowman had been built around a very solid concrete post. But Osgood's recent escapade, though smacking of the same panache, had not the same innocence.
The ritual began, the Master-at-Arms reading the charge:
'… in that, at about 2100 on Saturday, 8 December, did bring discredit upon their ship HMS Icarus when ashore as libertymen; and did cause an affray resulting in their arrest by the local police. Also, did cause bodily harm to the landlord of The Bunch of Grapes, Belmont, and damage to his property.' The Master had not drawn breath.
The WEO was watching his new captain. This, Jones sensed, was an important moment for the ship. Osgood and Fane were popular on the lower deck: loyal, trustworthy leading hands. The messdecks were watching, assessing their new captain on how he would deal with what, after all, seemed a British sailor's proper duty…. They knew that the previous captain would have awarded a warning and a day's pay stopped — and probably a metaphorical wink and commendation.
'Why did you take it upon yourselves to avenge the insult?' Captain Trevellion asked the two men. He was standing back from the table, arms behind his back, head and hulking shoulders hunched forwards as he fixed Fane, then the shorter Osgood, with his sharp grey eyes. ' You could have returned to the ship and told the Master-at-Arms about it; you could have requested to see me.'
Fane was shuffling his feet. He opened his mouth, but Osgood — impetuous idiot that he was — spoke up in his soft Devon burr for them both.
'There were only a couple of hours to go, sir. And once the ship had sailed…' Osgood faced his captain, looking upwards at him, like a bulldog who would not let go: ' Would have been no good, sir. Nothing would have happened. Too late…'
Jones was struck by Trevellion's control. This tall man, bent forwards to avoid the deckhead, said nothing but his brain must be working fast. All the frustrations of the rule-fettered junior ratings; the logical constraints which made for sensible conduct among civilized folk; the formal complaints through the proper service channels, complaints which slowly lost momentum as they ground to a halt. Jones had to suppress a smile,%as he listened to the closing stages of Osgood's case.
'After all, sir, it wasn't just me and Fane: the pub was insulting… all of us — the whole navy, sir.'
Oz's plea might have brought tears to the eyes of lesser men, but Captain Trevellion's mouth was a thin line, his face muscles taut. Only his eyes betrayed his sense of the ridiculous. He turned to Bernie Towke:
'How much is the publican claiming for damages, Supply Officer?'
'Two and a half thousand dollars, sir — about a thousand pounds. The assessor reports that it's a fair estimate.'
'You'd do it again, would you?'
Osgood's under-hung jaw jutted forward, his eyes half-closed, as he spoke again for them both:
''Course, we would, sir. He was asking for it. But it was my fault, all of it, sir. Something just came over me…' and he half-turned to Fane: 'and Niv, sorry sir, L/MEM Fane, he just backed me up, sir.' A nostalgic look briefly crossed Osgood's face. By the official report which Towke had shown Ivor Jones, Fane and Osgood had torn the pub apart.
Jones was watching Trevellion. This was the moment for which the ship was waiting. Trevellion could have been excused some histrionics, some Pilate-decision: ' I would have done the same, lads, but…' Everyone would have understood what he was implying. The stem face, with its wrinkled forehead, was staring directly at Jones.
'You're RO Osgood's Divisional Officer?'
'Yes, sir.'
'What's your opinion of Osgood?'
'A good leading radio operator, sir: reliable and hard-working.'
'Has he ever given you any disciplinary trouble? Does he give a good example to his subordinates?'
'Never any trouble in this ship, sir. He's a good leading hand.'
The captain turned to the L/MEM:
'What have you to say, L/MEM Fane?'
'Nothing to add, sir; we were in it together."
Trevellion glanced at the MEO.
'One of my best men, sir,' Sparger said. ' He never complains, though he works twelve hours a day in the DO room,'