Barker said, ‘Of course, Doc, that was-why the company was such a success. We only had the five ships, but there was true-devotion, a sense of service and loyalty so lacking today.’
Fraser had his eyes closed. ‘Crap,’ he said.
Barker glared at him. ‘How can you say such a thing?’
The engineer opened his eyes as a steward glided into the lamplight. He said, ‘I wantt a treble gin.’ Then to Barker he added slowly, ‘The reason this company was a success, and I’m not denying it, was the fact that the owners were the meanest set of skinflints ever dropped the wrong side of a blanket!’
Boase stirred uneasily and glanced from one to the other.
Fraser continued calmly, ‘See all this panelling, Doc?’ He waved one hand and displayed the black grease on his ‘fingers. ‘All the pretty cabins? Well, it only went down as far as B deck. The rest, the crew’s quarters and the poor emigrants section, was like the bloody Black Hole of Calcutta!’ He looked at Barker’s outraged face. ‘Man, you’re daft if you think loyalty played any part. Men needed work, and had to lick boots to get it. But you wouldn’t know anything about that!’
The steward was just placing the brimming glass beside him when the bulkhead telephone buzzed impatiently. The steward said, ‘For you, sir.’
Fraser seized the phone and jerked his head to the other voice. ‘Yes. Yes. Oh, Jesus, not that freshwater pump again. This bloody ship’ll be the death o’ me!’ He dropped the phone and downed the gin in one long swallow.
As he walked to the door he added, ‘One thing. If I run short of hot air for the boilers, I’ll know where to come!’ The door slammed behind him.
Barker stood up, visibly shaken. ‘I’ll turn in now.’ He looked round the wardroom. ‘I might have to check some ledgers first, of course.’
As he hurried away Boase said softly, ‘Of course.’
Then he smiled at Dancy. ‘You look ready to do great deeds.’
Dancy replied coldly, ‘I have the middle.’
‘Ah.’ Boase squinted at the clock. ‘Think I’ll go to bed, too.’
Dancy opened and then shut his mouth. Go to bed. Boase had not even learned the right terms. Funny chap. Very cool and distant, yet they said he had sawn off a man’s foot and saved his life.
‘Anything more, sir?’ The steward yawned ominously…
‘No. You can turn in.’
The steward’s eye dropped very slightly to the single stripe on Dancy’s sleeve. ‘You doing Rounds then, sir?’
Dancy looked away. ‘Well, no, not exactly.’
The steward slammed into his pantry muttering, ‘Then I’ll wait for someone who is.’
The door opened again and Dancy saw it was Kemp, the midshipman. Apart from the other sub-lieutenants, Kemp was the newest officer in the ship. In addition, he was the only one upon whom Dancy could exercise his scanty authority.
The boy said quietly, ‘I–I was just looking to see if-‘ his voice trailed away.
Dancy frowned. ‘Sit here if you like.’ He glanced at his watch for several seconds. ‘I’ve got the middle.’
Kemp nodded. He was a slightly built youth, even slender, and his even features were extremely pale. But unknown to the young — midshipman he possessed one tremendous gift, one glittering asset which Dancy could never hold or share. He was a regular and had been to Dartmouth. Dancy had already discovered that he was the son of a senior officer, one of a family of naval men. He seemed to epitomise all Dancy’s peacetime dreams, but at the same time did not really fit the role.
He asked casually, ‘Your old man, pretty senior, I believe?’ Old man sounded just right, he thought. Assured. A man of the world.
Dancy had learned his etiquette the hard way. Once in the armed yacht there had been a party and several women had been invited as guests. He had asked one very poised young lady about her father and she had replied, ‘Oh, Daddy’s a sailor.’
He had been horrified. ‘Not an officer?’
She had stared at him as if he had spoken some terrible
obscenity. ‘But of course, silly! What else?’ Yes, Dancy was learning.
Kemp replied, ‘He’s a captain. Shore job at Rosyth.’ He sighed. ‘He was beached between the wars for several years.’
Dancy nodded gravely. ‘I’ll bet he’s glad to be back.’ Kemp looked at him, his eyes strangely sad. ‘Glad? That’s an understatement.’
‘Yes.’ Dancy was getting irritated without knowing why. It was like talking to a stone wall. ‘You sound as if you’re unhappy about the ship or something.’
‘I am.’ He shrugged. ‘Not the ship exactly. It’s the Service. I hate it.’ Now that he had, begun he seemed unable to stop himself. ‘I never wanted to enter the Navy. Never. But he kept on at me. Kept on reminding me of my obligations, my duty.’
Dancy, said, ‘I expect it was all for the best.’ God, he sounded like his own father. He tried again. ‘But surely he knew the Navy well enough to understand, eh?’
Kemp stood up violently, a lock of hair falling across his eyes. ‘My father understands nothing about me, and cares less! He’s a stupid, pompous bigot, so stop asking about him will you, please?’
Dancy was aghast. ‘There’s no call to speak like that! By God, if I’d had half your chances in life-‘ He checked himself hastily. ‘What I mean is, if I’d not taken another profession I’d have wanted to enter the Service.’
Kemp’s hands were shaking at his sides. ‘Well, you got there in the end, didn’t you, sir!’
As he ran for the door he almost collided with Stannard who was carrying his cap and duffel coat and wearing his scarred sea boots. He watched the midshipman run past and said dryly, ‘Hell, that young fella’s keen= to go somewhere.’
Dancy said angrily, ‘Doesn’t know when he’s well off.’ It, was like a betrayal, a broken image. ‘I’ll be watching him in future.’
The Australian grinned lazily. ‘You do that, Admiral, but in the meantime shift yourself to the bridge, chop, chop!’ He gestured to the clock. ‘Our watch, I believe?’
Dancy’s frown faded. Stannard was a bit coarse at times, but he was all right. He had been on the bridge with him. Never got in a flap.
Stannard paused by a screen door and looked at him searchingly. ‘Ever had a woman, Sub?’
Dancy stared at him. ‘Well, I — that is…’
Stannard pursed his lips. ‘Have to do something about that then!’
Outside the night was black. No stars or snow. Just the wind and the drifting feathers of spray above the guardrail.
Dancy buttoned his bridge coat and followed the lieutenant to the ladder. That was more like it. He was accepted.
Jupp stopped beside Lindsay’s littered desk and placed a large china mug carefully on a mat before removing its lid.
He watched Lindsay and said, “Ot soup, sir. Just th’ job before you turn in.
Lindsay leaned back in his chair and smiled wearily. ‘Smells fine.’
Feet scraped on the ladder overhead and he heard muffled voices and more footsteps clattering hurriedly from the bridge. The watch was changing. Midnight.
The soup was very hot, and Lindsay realised he was ravenous, that he had hardly eaten since the brief action with. the enemy. It had been a long day. Inspecting damage between decks, checking the progress of repairs, burying Cummings in another quick service at the rail. Poor Cummings, he had not even got used to living.
It was quite impossible to learn anything about the damaged raider. The Admiralty had merely acknowledged his signal. He felt vaguely bitter about it, yet knew it was because he was tired. Worn out. It was unlikely anything could be done about the other ship. It had been too stormy for flying off aircraft, and the sea was a big place. The German was probably steaming like hell for base, to some secluded Norwegian fjord where she could lie up and lick her scars.