Lindsay had swam with the children to a half-empty. lifeboat, deaf to their terrified cries, and still only half aware what had happened.
The small convoy had scattered, and when he had stood up he had seen the nearest ship, a freighter, being bracketed by tall waterspouts, until she too reeled to explosions and was ablaze from bow to stern. Then and only then had he seen the enemy. Lying across the horizon like a low, grey islet, lit every so often by rippling orange flashes from her massive armament. The enemy never got nearer than about seven miles, and methodically, mercilessly’ she had continued to drop her great shells on the sinking ships, on the boats and amongst the helpless victims in the water. To the men behind those powerful rangefinders and gunsights the targets would have seemed very near. Close enough to watch as they died in agony under that clear sky.
Eventually, satisfied her work was done, the German raider had disappeared below the hard horizon line. Later it was said she was a pocket-battleship or perhaps a heavy cruiser: Nobody knew for sure. All Lindsay knew was that he hadd to stay five days in the boat with seven others who had somehow survived the bombardment.
Five men and the two Dutch children.
A corvette had found them eventually, and the children were buried at sea the next morning along with some victims from a previous attack. Lindsay had held them against himself for warmth and comfort long after they must have died from exposure, terror and exhaustion.
War was not for little children, as some smug journalist had written later.
Lindsay sat on the edge of the bunk and stared at the carpet. He had actually allowed himself to think about it. Just this once. What did he feel now? Despair, fear of what might happen next time? He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, hearing a bugle bleating out reveille across the Flow. Wakey, wakey! Lash up and stow!
If he felt anything, anything at all, it was hatred.
The door opened an inch and lamplight cut a path across the carpet to his bare feet.
Jupp asked, ‘Are you ready for some tea, sir?’ Lindsay shook.himself. ‘Thanks.’
Jupp padded to the table. ‘I heard you about, sir, so I thought to meself, ah, the captain’ll like a nice hot strong cup of char, that’s what I thought.’
‘Heard me?’ Caution again, like an animal at bay. ‘Thought you was on the telephone, sir.’ Jupp’s face was in shadow. ‘I was already in me pantry, an’ the old Becky’s a quiet ship, sir.’
He peered at the disordered bunk and pursed his lips. ‘Dear me, sir, you’ve ‘ad some bad dreams, and we can’t lave that.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll fix you some coffee an’ scrambled eggs.’ Disdainfully, ‘Powdered eggs, I’m afraid, but there’s a war on they tell me.’
Lindsay stopped him by the door. ‘So I believe.’ He saw the man turn. ‘And thanks.’
‘Sir?’ Jupp’s features were inscrutable. ‘Just thanks.’
Somewhere above a man laughed, and the deck gave a small tremble as some piece of machinery came alive.
Lindsay walked to the scuttle, the hot cup in his hand. A new day. For him and the ship. The old Becky. Perhaps it might be good to both of them.
Lieutenant-Commander John Goss stepped over the coaming of Lindsay’s cabin and removed his cap. ‘You wanted me, sir?’ His heavy face was expressionless.
‘Take a seat.’
Lindsay stood by a scuttle watching the rain sheeting across the forecastle where a party of oilskinned seamen were working half-heartedly between the anchor cables. It was the forenoon, but the sky was so dull it could have been dusk. In spite of his bad night he was feeling slightly better. A good bath and Jupp’s breakfast had helped considerably.
‘I have sent round my standing orders, Number One, and I’d be obliged if youmade sure that all heads of departments have read them.’ He paused, knowing what was coming.
Goss said abruptly, ‘I’ve read them, sir. It’s not that.’
‘Well?’ In the salt-smeared glass he saw Goss shifting his heavy bulk from one foot to the other. ‘What’s bothering you?’
‘The watch bill. Action stations and the rest. You’ve changed my original arrangements.’ In a harder tone, ‘May I ask why?’
Lindsay turned and studied him calmly. ‘Whether any of us likes it or not, Number One, this is a naval ship. As such she will have to. work and, if necessary, fight as a single unit.’
Goss said stubbornly, ‘I still don’t see why Lindsay interrupted, ‘I studied your arrangements. You had put all the reserve people into one watch. The other watch was comprised almost entirely of hostilities only, new intakes, many of whom have never been to sea before. Likewise the allocation of officers.’ He added slowly, ‘Just what do you think might happen if the ship is caught napping and with two R.N.V.R. officers on the bridge, neither of whom has had the slightest experience?’
Goss dropped his eyes. ‘They’ll have to learn, sir. As I did.’
‘Given time they might. But they’ll have to be taught, like the rest of us. So I’ve allowed for it in my planning. A sprinkling in each part of both watches.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Goss looked up angrily. ‘There’s this other order. About the accommodation.’
Lindsay glanced at the ship’s picture on the bulkhead. The Benbecula as she had once been. He could understand Goss’s feelings, but like the ship’s role they had to be overcome.
‘Yes. Tell the chief bosun’s mate to get his people to work right away. I want all the old titles removed or painted out, understood?’ He saw Goss’s eyes cloud over and added quietly, ‘To the ship’s company as a whole, as a whole, do you understand, Benbecula must represent part of the Navy. It is a wardroom, not a restaurant as the sign says. A chief and petty officers” mess, and no longer the cocktail lounge. Things like that can affect a man’s attitude, especially a new, green recruit.’
‘I don’t need to be told about war, sir.’
Lindsay heard himselfretort angrily, ‘And neither do I, Number One, so do as I damn well say!’
When Goss remained stockstill, his cap crushed under his arm, he added, ‘Whatever role we are given, wherever we are sent, things are going to be hard. If I am called to action I want a ship’s company working as a team, one unit, do you understand? Not some collection of trained and untrained men, ex-merchant seamen and others brought back from retirement.” He was hoarse, and could feel his heart pumping against his ribs. The earlier sensation of control was slipping away, yet he had to make Goss understand. ‘A ship of war is only as strong as her people, d’you see that? People!’
‘If you say so, sir.’
‘Good.’
He walked to a chair and slumped into it. ‘You have been at sea long enough to know what can happen. The Atlantic is a killing-ground and no place for unwary idealists. I know how you feel about this ship, at least I think I do. You may believe that by keeping up the old appearances you’ll make them survive. Believe me, you won’t, quitethe opposite. Many of the.new hands come from training depots. Depots which up to a year or so back were holiday camps for factory workers and mill girls in the north of England. But after a while the trainees believed they were in naval establishments and progressed accordingly. Likewise this ship, so see that my orders are executed as of today.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Goss sounded hoarse.
‘I want to meet my officers today, too.’ He glanced up quickly, seeing the shot go home. Goss looked suddenly uneasy. ‘I’ve read all I can about them, but that is as far as it goes.’
‘I’ll arrange it, sir.’ Goss sounded in control again. ‘Eight bells?’
‘Good.’
More calmly he continued, ‘If the war gets’ no worse things are going to be bad. If it does,’ he shrugged, ‘then we’ll be hard put to keep the sea lanes open. It’s as simple as that.’