The rear door slid back and Midshipman Kemp walked into the wheelhouse.
The commodore watched him make a few notations in the bridge log and said, ‘Ah, Jeremy. There you are. Wondered what you were doing.’ He gave a careful smile. ‘Been hiding from me, eh?’
The boy looked at him. ‘Sir?’
The commodore spread his hands. ‘I shouldn’t beat all surprised if you have a pleasant surprise waiting for you in England. I’m not promising anything, of course, — but if I put a word in the right direction, I believe you may get something to your advantage.’ He beamed around the quiet wheelhouse. -The impassive quartermaster, the signalman, a bosun’s mate who was looking anywhere but at him.
The midshipman asked flatly, ‘Is that all you wanted, sir?’
The commodore swung away. ‘Yes. Carry on.’ As the door slid shut he snapped, ‘Bloody ungrateful little tyke!’
Jupp came from the port wing carrying a tray covered with a napkin. He saw Lindsay and showed his teeth.
‘Coffee and a sandwich, sir.’
Kemp said coldly, ‘What about me?’
‘Sir?’ Jupp placed the tray carefully on a vibrating flag locker. ‘I will inform your steward that you wish ‘im to fetch somethin’ for you.’ He looked at the man’s angry face.. ‘Sir.’
The commodore — thrust his thickset body from the chair and stalked to the door. As he disappeared down the ladder Lindsay seemed to feel the men around him come to life, saw the quartermaster give a quick wink at the signalman.
He said, ‘It won’t do, Jupp.’ He smiled gravely. ‘And it won’t help either.’
Jupp folded the napkin into four quarters. ‘I’m not with you, sir? Did I do anythin’?’
Lindsay grinned. ‘Get back to your pantry while you’re still alive!’
Goss re-entered the wheelhouse and yawned hugely. ‘God, it smells better in here!’
Lindsay turned away. They were all at it. Even Goss. For the ship and for him. It was the only way they knew of showing their true feelings.
Jupp was still hovering by the flag locker. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but I ‘ave to report some missin’ gear from the wardroom.’
Goss interrupted calmly, ‘Not to worry. I expect some bloody coolie lifted it. Or maybe it went down a gash chute by accident.’
Lindsay did not know how to face them. ‘Silver teapots?’
Jupp sounded surprised. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, yes, sir.’
Goss sighed. ‘One of those things.’ He walked to the wing again, his face devoid of expression.
Lindsay began to see more and more of the commodore in the days which followed. He said little and contented himself. with examining incoming signals or just sitting in silence on the bridge chair.
That he was growing increasingly worried became obvious as news was received from the Admiralty signals of a new and changing pattern in enemy activity. It seemed there was no longer any doubt that all the incidents were linked. A German raider was at large, and more to the point, was the same one which Lindsay had last seen off Greenland.
Her captain was a man who appeared to care little for his own safety. Several times he had barely missed the searching cruisers and the net was closing in on him rapidly. The last sinking had been three hundred miles north-east of Trinidad, and because of it some small convoys had been’ held up for fear of another attack. There were too few escorts available on the opposite side of the Atlantic, and the U-boat menace further north, made the hope of any quick transfer of forces unlikely. Badly needed convoys were made to stay at anchor or in port while the cruisers increased their efforts to hunt the German down once and for all.
Two. days before the anticipated meeting with the Freetown escorts Kemp sent for Lindsay in his quarters. He was sitting in a deep sofa, the deck around his feet covered with signals and written instructions. He seemed to have aged in the past week, and there were deep furrows around his eyes and mouth. He did not ask Lindsay to sit down.
‘Another sinking report’.’
Lindsay nodded. He had seen it for himself. A Danish tanker sailing in ballast without escort had been shelled and sunk barely a hundred miles from the previous sinking. This time the Danish captain had managed to get off more than a cry for help. There was now no doubt the raider was the same ship.
He replied, ‘The German’s working south, sir. Trying to catch the Americas trade as much as possible.’ He added, ‘He’ll sink a few more poor devils before he’s run to earth.’ He did not try to hide the bitterness.
Kemp picked up a signal and then dropped it again. ‘I. know he can’t get at us.’ He looked up, his eyes blazing. ‘They’ve ordered our cruiser screen westward. Taken it away from my support!’
Lindsay watched him coldly. ‘Yes, sir. I heard.’
‘Didn’t even consider what I might think about it.’
‘They’ve no choice. If the raider continues to move south or south-east the cruisers will have him in the bag. He can’t run forever.’
‘This is a valuable convoy. Perhaps vital.’ He seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud. ‘It’s. wrong to expect me to take all the responsibility.’
Lindsay said, ‘Was that all you wanted, sir?’
The commodore watched him with sudden anger. ‘I know what you’re hoping! That I’ll make some mistake so that you can crow about it!’
‘Then you don’t know me at all.’ Lindsay kept his voice level. ‘When. you are in charge of any convoy there is always the risk of change and sudden alteration in planning. It doesn’t necessarily go like a clock.’
There was a tap at the door and Stannard stepped into the cabin.
Kemp glared at him. ‘Well?’
‘Another signal from Admiralty, sir. Request you detach the cruiser Canopus and destroyer escort immediately.’ He looked at Lindsay. ‘They are to leave with all speed and join in the search.’ He shrugged. ‘It seems that the net is tightening.’
Kemp nodded. ‘Execute.’ As the door closed he muttered, ‘Now there’s just this ship until the Freetown escorts arrive.’ He looked up. ‘When will that be?’
‘Forty-eight hours, sir. We crossed the twentieth parallel at noon today.’
Lindsay left him with his thoughts and returned to the bridge. The cruiser was already moving swiftly clear of her column, and far ahead of the convoy he could see the two destroyers gathering speed to take station on her.
‘Signal the freighter Brittany to take lead ship in the port column.’ He raised his glasses and watched the lamp winking from the other vessel’s bridge.
He said, ‘It seems we’re in charge of things, Yeo.’
Ritchie, who was keeping an eye on his signalman, nodded. “Cept for the Yank, sir.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘She’s still with us, more or less.’
Lindsay smiled. There was no real danger but it was strange that in a matter of hours their hidden strength had melted away to leave the two oldest ships as a sole protection.
‘Signal the John P. Ashton to assume station ahead of the convoy.
Ritchie said, ‘She’ll blow ‘er boilers, sir.’
‘Her captain will know he’s the only one now with submarine detection gear. He won’t have to be told what to do.’
Later, as the elderly destroyer thrashed past the other ships he saw her light blinking rapidly and heard Ritchie say, ‘Signal, sir. This must be Veterans Day.’ He shook his head. ‘He ain’t kiddin’ either.’
When darkness fell — over the three columns the — American four-piper had retained her position well ahead of the convoy. Lindsay hoped she did not break down overnight. She stood a good chance of being rammed by several of the big ships if she did. With that in mind, her engineers would no doubt be doubly carefuclass="underline"