Stannard said hoarsely’ ‘Snow’s getting heavier again.’ He ducked involuntarily as a shell exploded alongside, the flash masked instantly by a towering white waterspout: Bridge and wing were buried under cascading water, and Lindsay heard Jolliffe cursing one of the quartermasters who had fallen against the wheel.
Lindsay rubbed his glasses and peered after the enemy in time to see her fading completely into another squall. Only the glare of her fires was still visible, and he heard several small explosions on the wind as de Chair’ss last shell continued to spread its havoc between decks.
Aikman reported, ‘Damage control have A deck fire under control, sir. Second hit’ was also A deck. No fire, but four men wounded.’
Another telephone jarred the sudden stillness- and Stannard said, ‘It’s the chief, sir. He asks if he can reduce revs. Starboard shaft is overheating. Nothing serious, he thinks, but…’
Lindsay realised the Australian was staring at him and then his reeling mind recalled what he had been asked.
‘Thank you, Pilot. Reduce to slow ahead.’
No sense in tearing the engines to pieces for nothing. The enemy, would not come back for another try. Not this time. It was too risky.
He added slowly, ‘Get a signal coded up right away. To Admiralty. Advise on our position, course and approximate speed of enemy.’ He rubbed his eyes, forcing his mind to.respond. ‘Tell them we have engaged enemy raider and obtained two hits. Extent of her damage not known.’
Stannard lowered his pad. ‘Is that all, sir?’
Lindsay walked to the door and wrenched it open as thankfully the bridge messengers started to close the glass windows again.
‘Mention that Loch Glendhu has been sunk, and check with the sickbay for a list of survivors.’
He heard Stannard leave the wheelhouse and leaned over the wing to watch some of the damage control team scurrying along the forward well deck, bowed against the wind. Or fearful perhaps the enemy could still see them.
He was shaking uncontrollably, yet when he looked at his hands they seemed quite steady. Perhaps it was in his mind.
There were clangs and shouts, more orders as seamen and stokers ran to deal with damage and plug up the gaping splinter holes.
Goss appeared suddenly in the wheelhouse door. ‘Nobody dead, sir.’ He sounded accusing. ‘One man’s lost a foot, but the doc says he’ll live….’
He swung round as Ritchie pushed his way to the door.
Ritchie said harshly, ‘There was one killed, sir.’ He paused, recalling the astonishment on the boy’s face. The eyes glazing with drifting snow. He said, ‘Ordinary Signalman Cummings, sir. Shell splinter got ‘im in the spine.’ But for his body, I would have got it. ‘I didn’t realise he’d bought it till I told ‘im it was all over.’
Lindsay nodded. Bought it. What the Wren had said at Scapa.
‘You did bloody well, Yeo.’
Ritchie shrugged. ‘It’s a start.’
Goss cleared his throat noisily. ‘About the damage.’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s a dockyard job, sir.’
Lindsay could feel his nerves dragging like hot wires. He wanted to shake Goss, hit him if necessary to make him understand.
Instead he said flatly, ‘No, it isn’t, Number One. It’s yours, until we hear to the contrary.’
Goss spoke between his teeth.. ‘If the snow hadn’t eased at that moment we might have run straight into that German!’
Lindsay swung on him. ‘Well, at least we’d have sunk the bloody thing! Now, for God’s sake get on with those repairs!’
He turned to watch some seamen carrying a limp body aft from the forecastle. Cummings. Was that the man’s name?
Dancy poked his head through the door. ‘The chief has said everything’s all right, sir.’
Lindsay looked at him. He had forgotten all about Dancy. But he seemed steady enough for his first action.
‘Thank him for me, Sub. And fall out action stations.’
He realised Dancy was still there, staring at him as if for the first time in his life. ‘Well?’
Dancy flushed. ‘I–I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that I wouldn’t have believed it possible.’ He seemed quite oblivious of Lindsay’s grave face or Ritchie’s despairing glance. ‘To handle a ship like this, to outmanoeuvre that German.’
Lindsay held up his hand. ‘Write about it one day, Sub. Tell your mother if you like, but spare me, will you?’
Dancy withdrew, and seconds later the upper deck tannoy- grated, ‘Fall out action stations. Starboard watch to defence stations.’ The merest pause, then ‘Up spirits!’
Lindsay looked at Ritchie, feeling the grin spreading across his face, pushing the despair aside like the wind had laid bare the enemy.
‘Good advice, Yeo.’ He walked towards the wheelhouse again. -‘I think we deserve it!’
Ritchie watched him and then shook his head. You’ll do, he thought. For me, and this poor old ship. You’ll do.
Sub-Lieutenant Michael Dancy pushed aside the heavy curtain and stepped into the wardroom. With only half the deckhead lights in use the wardroom looked cosy and pleased with itself, the oak panelling gleaming softly in welcome. Just over an hour to midnight, and as Dancy had the middle watch he saw no point in trying to sleep.
By the fat coal stove he saw Barker in conversation with Boase, the doctor, although the latter’s face was so expressionless it seemed hardly likely he was doing more than listening.
Barker was saying, ‘We had some very rich passengers, of course, None of those save-up-for-the-cruise-of-alifetime types. Real class.’
Boase eyed him wearily. ‘Good.’
The ex-purser lowered his voice. ‘Like this ship today. I’m not saying that some of these temporary chaps don’t mean well.’ He winked. ‘But you know what they say about the sow’s ear, eh?’
Boase yawned. ‘Nobody’s more temporary than I am.’
Barker shot him an ingratiating smile. ‘Ah, but you’re professional, it’s quite different!’
Dancy turned away. Quite apart from disliking Barker, he could not bear to watch him and the doctor sipping their drinks by the fire.. Normally Dancy did not drink much. Before the war he had been unable to afford it, except at Christmas time, and in any case his mother disapproved, hinting darkly at a nameless uncle who had gone off the rails. After being commissioned and sent to the’ armed yacht he had been involved in several minor drinking bouts, most of which had ended in dismal failure and agonising sickness.
But tonight he did feel like it. A celebration all of his own.
He sat in a deep chair with his back to the others and stared unseeingly at the swaying curtains which partitioned off the dining space, half listening to the wind sighing against the hull. It was difficult to accept that only this morning they had been in action. Had fired and been fired upon. Had buried a young signalman, their first. real casualty, and he had lived through all of it.
Dancy felt as if his lungs were too large for his body, that he wanted to shout or laugh out loud. What did that old woman Barker know about it anyway? He was more concerned with corned beef and, the issue of clothing than the business of fighting. While Barker had been hidden below, he, Michael Dancy, had been up there beside the captain, seeing it, feeling it, and not breaking as he had once thought he would.
He heard the bell go and knew the others were ringing for more drinks. But he must go on watch soon, and had been left in no doubt by the first lieutenant what would happen to a watchkeeping officer who drank. -
He tried to assemble his memories into order, to capture each moment. He smiled. As a writer should. But it was still difficult. It had been so swift, with the din and smells all mixed together in his mind. And all the while this great ship, and she was enormous after the armed yacht, had wheeled and pounded through the snow, guns blazing and He turned his head angrily as Fraser entered the wardroom and threw himself into a chair, prodding the bell-push in the same movement.