The wind sighed against the bridge, and he was conscious of the: lack of movement. A destroyer would be pitching to her moorings even here in Scapa Flow. He would have to meet his officers, explore the hull from bridge to keel. Get the feel of her.
He lowered his face into his hands. Must do it soon. Waste no time in remembering or trying not to remember. But he had got over the Vengeur, as much as anyone could who had seen a ship, his ship, die. But the rest. He hesitated, remembering the doctor’s calm voice’ at the hospital. That might take longer. Avoid it, ‘the doctor had said.
Lindsay stood up violently. Avoid it. How the hell could you? The man was a bloody fool even to suggest it. He stared at a tall, mournful looking man in a white
jacket and carrying a silver tray covered in a crisp napkin. The man said, ‘I’m Jupp, sir. Chief steward.’
Lindsay swallowed hard. The steward must think him mad. ‘Put the tray down there, and thank you, er, Jupp.’
The steward laid the tray down and said dolefully, ‘I made ‘em meself, sir. Bit of tinned salmon I’d been savin’. Some spam, and a few olives which I obtained from a Greek freighter in Freetown.’ He looked at Lindsay, adding, ‘Nice to have you aboard, if I may make so bold.’
Lindsay studied him. ‘I take it you were with the company, too?’
Jupp smiled gently. ‘Twenty-three years, sir. We’ve ‘ad some very nice people to deal with.’ The smile became’ doleful again. ‘You’ll soon settle in, sir, so don’t fret about it so.’
Lindsay felt the anger rising uncontrollably like a flood.
‘I’m really glad you’ve come to us, sir.’ Jupp made towards the door.
‘Yes, thank you.’
Lindsay stared at the closed door, his anger gone and leaving him empty. Jupp seemed to think he was joining the company rather than assuming command. Yet in spite of his jarring nerves and earlier despair he took a sandwich from the plate. It was thin and beautifully cut.
There was a small card under the plate which read, ‘On behalf of the Aberdeen and Pacific Steam Navigation Company may we welcome you aboard the S.S. Benbecula.’ Jupp had crossed out the ship’s title and inserted H.M.S. with a pencil.
Lindsay sank back into a chair and stared around the silent cabin. Jupp was at least trying to help. He reached for another sandwich, suddenly conscious of a consuming hunger.
So then, would he, he decided grimly, if only to hold on to his sanity.
Jupp walked around the captain’s day cabin, flicking a curtain into place here, examining an ashtray there, and generally checking that things were as they should be. It was early evening, but the pipe to ‘ darken ship had sounded long since as it seemed to get dark quickly in Scapa Flow. Not that it had been very light throughout Lindsay’s first day aboard.
He sat at his desk, his jacket open as he pushed the last file of papers to one side. He felt tired, even spent, and was surprised to see that he had been working steadily for a fullhour since his methodical tour around the ship.
The dockyard people at Leith had been very ruthless with their surgery, he thought. For once below ‘A’ Deck there appeared little left of the original internal hull. There was a well deck both forward and aft, but where the main holds’ had once been were now shored up with massive steel frames to support the main armament on the upper decks. There were four six-inch guns on the foredeck, two on either beam, and the remaining two had been mounted aft, again one on either side. There was not much alternative in a ship constructed for peaceful purposes, but it was obvious that at no time could Benbecula use more than half her main armament to fire at one target. There was an elderly twelve-pounder situated right aft on the poop, a relic of the ship’s short service as a trooper, and on the boat deck itself he had discovered four modern Oerlikons. Altogether they represented Benbecula’s sole defence or means of attack.
Most of the original lifeboats had gone, and had been replaced by naval whalers, two motor boats and a number of Carley floats and wooden rafts. The latter were the only things which really counted if a ship went down fast.
She had a modern refrigeration space where he had found Paymaster-Lieutenant Barker and his assistants busily checking the last of the incoming stores. Barker had been a ship’s purser before the war, some of that time in the Benbecula, and had spoken with obvious nostalgia of ‘better days’, as he had described them.
Many of the passenger cabins had been transferred into quarters for the ship’s company, a rare luxury for naval ratings, even though the dockyard had seen fit to cram them in four or five to each space.
Accompanied by Goss, Lindsay had tried to miss nothing, had kept his thoughts to himself until he had completed his inspection.
Magazines for the six-inch guns had been constructed on the orlop deck below the waterline, with lifts to carry.
the shells and charges the seemingly great distance to the mountings above. The guns were very old. First World War vintage, they were hand-operated and almost independent of any sort of central firecontrol.
He had met Lieutenant Maxwell, the gunnery officer, although he had the vague impression the man had been waiting for him. Gauging the right moment to appear as if by accident.
Maxwell was a regular officer, but about the same age as himself. Thin featured, bony, and very rigid in his carriage, he never seemed to relax throughout the meeting. His knuckles remained firmly. bunched at his sides, the thumbs in line with his trouser seams, as if on parade at Whale Island.
While they were speaking, Goss was called away by. the duty quartermaster, and Maxwell said quickly, ‘Pretty rough lot, I’m afraid, sir. But still,with aproper captain we’ll soon whip ‘em into shape.’
Lindsay had discovered that, unlike Goss, the gunnery officer had been referring to the R.N.R. officers and ratings of the ship’s company. He had also gathered that Goss and Maxwell rarely spoke to one another.
Later, on the way to the boiler room, Goss had remarked sourly, ‘Did you know, sir, Maxwell was on the beach for five years until the war? Made some. bloody cockup, I expect. Damned unfair to have him put aboard us!’
Lindsay leaned back in the chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head.. Goss probably thought the same about his new captain.
Jupp paused by the desk, his eyes glinting in the lamplight. ‘I expect you’d like a drink, sir?’
‘Thank you. A whisky, if you have it.’
Jupp regarded him gravely. ‘I always manage to keep some for my captains, sir.’ He sounded surprised that Lindsay should have doubted his ability to obtain something which was such a rarity almost everywhere.
Lindsay watched Jupp as he busied himself. at the sideboard. There is a man who is happy in his work, he thought wearily.
Then he remembered Fraser, the chief engineer. Lieutenant-Commander (E) Donald Fraser’ had taken him on a tour around the boiler and engine rooms. He was a small, almost delicate looking man with iron grey hair, a sardonic smile, and a very dry sense of humour: Lindsay had liked him immediately.