Almost to himself he said, ‘Once I thought otherwise. Now I know better. War isn’t a game, and it’s time we started breaking a few rules, right?’
Goss eyed him unblinkingly. ‘Right.’
A telephone buzzed on the bulkhead and Lindsay seized it from its hook without leaving the chair.
‘Captain.’
The voice said, ‘Signal from shore, sir. Guardboat arriving with sealed orders forthwith.’
Lindsay looked at Goss’s heavy face and thought about the voice on the telephone. What did he look like? What was his name? There was so much to discover. So little time.
‘Thank you. Inform the O.O.D. please.’ The phone went dead.
To Goss he said, ‘Perhaps we shall know now.’
Goss looked around the cabin, his face suddenly desperate. ‘They’ll not be sending us to fight surface ships. Not after all that’s happened, surely?’ When Lindsay remained silent he said, ‘One of our sister ships, the Barra, has got a nice billet at Singapore. She’s an A.M.C. too, like us, but out there she’ll be safe enough from these bloody U-boats.’
Almost, gently Lindsay replied, ‘Maybe you’re right. But it’s best to face the worst thing which can happen and plan from there.’
He turned away to hide his eyes, as the mental picture rose in his mind like some hideous spectre. The pale arms waving under the water. The soft, limp bodies pressed against his chest.
Goss opened the door. ‘I…I’ll carry on, sir.’ Then he was gone.
Jupp entered the cabin by the other door and said, ‘Guardboat’s shoved off from the jetty, sir. I’d better start packin’ up some of the glasses. They’re hard to replace nowadays, and we don’t want none of that issue stuff from naval stores.’
Lindsay relaxed slightly and smiled at Jupp’s doleful face.
‘What are you expecting?’
Jupp pouted. ‘Sailin’ orders they’ll be, sir. We’re off very soon now.’
Lindsay stood up. He was well used to lower deck telegraph and false buzzes, but the steward’s tone made him ask, ‘Have you heard something?’ He smiled. ‘You’ve a relative at H.Q. maybe?’
Jupp moved to another scuttle, his face grave. ‘Look ‘ere, sir.’
Through the steady downpour Lindsay saw a small boat chugging across the anchorage, several oilskinned figures crammed together for comfort like wet seals on a half-submerged rock.
Jupp said, ‘That’s the ‘arbour-master’s mob, sir. Earlier on I seen ‘em checkin’, our buoy and measurin’ the distance to thee next astern.’ He glanced at Lindsay, his voice matter-of-fact. ‘They’ll be needin’ it for another; bigger ship, I reckon. Stands to reason, don’t it, sir?’
Lindsay nodded. ‘Yes.’
Jupp asked, ‘Will you be wantin’ any letters taken ashore? If I’m right, that is.’
He shook his head. ‘No. No letters.’
He walked towards his sleeping cabin and did not see the sadness in Jupp’s deepset eyes.
The Benbeculds wardroom, which was situated forward of the promenade deck, had once been the main. restaurant for the passengers, and had been her pride and joy. It ran the whole breadth of the hull, and was panelled in dark oak. Most of the furnishings were drawn from the original fittings, and the chairs around the long polished table all bore the company’s crest, as did the deep leather ones grouped by the stately coal stove at the after bulkhead. A few additional concessions had, however, been made. Officers’ letter rack, a picture of the King, and a stand containing pistols which did little to alter the general appearance ‘of well-being and comfort.
Sharp at noon Goss had arrived to accompany Lindsay to the wardroom and had said nothing as they passed two seamen who were busily removing the glass sign which proclaimed it to be a Restaurant — First Class Only. Lindsay doubted if the sign had ever been needed, for he had learned that Benbecula had never carried anyone but first class passengers. Except, that is, for emigrants to Australia, and it was hardly likely they would have misunderstood.the rules.
As they entered all the officers rose to their feet, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, apprehension and expectancy. It was plain that Goss had already arranged them ip some sort of order, while in the background two white-coated stewards hovered in readiness to serve drinks once the formalities were over.
Lindsay knew better than to expect a complete analysis at so brief a meeting. Some faces stood out more than others, however. There was a Lieutenant Stannard, the navigation officer, a lean, beanpole of a man with a skin like leather. A reservist, he was also an Australian who had served with the company before the war.
As Lindsay shook his hand he drawled, ‘I sure hope we’re going back on the Far East run, sir. The old ship can find her own way there by now.’ He shrugged. ‘Otherwise I’m not too optimistic!’
Maxwell was present of course, rigid as ever, and slightly apart from the professional seamen and the amateurs, like a disapproving referee at some obscure contest.
The ship’s doctor, Surgeon-Lieutenant David Boase, returned Lindsay’s handshake, and in answer to a question said, ‘First ship, sir. I was at Guy’s.’
Despite the red marking between his wavy gold stripes, Lindsay guessed that like so many of his contemporaries Boase was little more than a glorified medical student. But better than no doctor at all.
There were four sub-lieutenants, very new, and all but one of whom had never been to sea before except as ordinary seamen doing their obligatory service prior to going to King Alfred, the officers training establishment. The exception was named Dancy, a serious faced young man who said quickly, ‘Actually, sir, I have done three months watchkeeping before joining this ship.’
Lindsay eyed him curiously. ‘What ship?’
‘The Valiant, sir.’
Lindsay was surprised. ‘I’d have thought this is a bit of a change from a big battleship, Dancy.’
Dancy flushed. ‘Oh no, sir. Not that Valiant. Actually she was an armed yacht at Bristol.’
The laughter helped to break the ice, and Goss said ponderously, ‘Shall I call the stewards over now, sir?’
Lindsay nodded and let his eyes move round the faces which would become so familiar, given luck and time.
As Goss bustled away he saw Tobey, the big boatswain, talking with the two elderly warrant officers, Emerson and Baldock, and wondered what they thought about this appointment after their peaceful retirement.
Lieutenant Mark de Chair of the Royal Marines, a slim, elegant figure with a.neat clipped moustache said.suddenly, ‘I expect you’re, wondering why I’m aboard, sir?’
Lindsay smiled. ‘Tell me.’
‘I was put here with my sergeant and thirty marines to man the ship’s armament when we were trooping, sir.’ He shrugged. ‘The troops have gone, but their lordships ‘in all their wisdom thought fit to forget us.’
‘I’ve arranged for you to continue manning the after guns.’
Lindsay took a glass from a steward and waited until they were all silent again. A mixed wardroom, he thought. Like most ships these days, and yet….’
He said quietly, ‘Well, gentlemen, I am sorry this has to be brief. I will have to get to know you better,’ he paused, ‘when we are at sea.’ He felt the sudden expectancy move around him like a small wind. ‘Our sailing orders have arrived.’ He thought of Jupp by the scuttle. How right he was. ‘We will slip from our buoy at 0800 tomorrow and proceed on independent patrol.’
He could see his words hitting. home, affecting each and every one present in the way it would touch him. Fraser’s relaxed indifference, his second engineer, Lieutenant (E) Dyke, frowning slightly as if going over his own watch-bill of stokers and mechanics. Barker biting his lip, squinting behind his glasses, seeing each sea mile steamed as so many sausages and tins of corned beef, rum and gallons of tea. Stannard, the navigation officer, balanced on his toes, thinking of his charts perhaps, or returning to his far off homeland. Maxwell, stiff and sphinxlike. And some of the rest, so young, so unsure that it made you feel sorry for them.