Payne nodded.
“That can be done, sir.”
“I was sure it could be, Payne.”
Troughton picked up the telephone, asked for a number at the Admiralty, waited for the exchange, always slow in wartime, to connect him.
“Johnny, how are you dear boy?”
Peter could just hear the voice from the other end.
“Well indeed, brother. Covering yourself in glory down at Polegate, I see.”
“A bit of luck and a damned good man in the right place, Johnny. The old story.”
“My congratulations to him. What do you need, Archie?”
“Other than the pleasure of listening to your voice, Johnny? I have a Leading Seaman here, Paymaster, recently transferred in, wounded on Cressy. Good man. I want him made up to PO, substantive. It’s early, but I need a bit of rank in my office. Name’s Payne, with a ‘y’.”
There was a slight delay while files were consulted.
“Got him, Archie. Consider it done, dear boy! Right place at the right time – nothing too good for Polegate today. Notification will reach you before the end of the week. Have you heard that your man Fitzjames has kicked the bucket? Just come through. Needs a post captain who knows his way around the system in the RNAS. Seeing what can be done, Archie! Toodle-oo now, old chap – busy with all this work you people put upon me!”
Troughton hung up the receiver, nodded his satisfaction.
“Elder brother by my father’s first marriage, Naseby. Twenty years older than me and a damned good chap. Looked after me all through my schooldays and always had a quid to spare when I was at Dartmouth. Hear a lot about stepbrothers and that, not getting on together – couldn’t ask for a finer brother than Johnny. Rear Admiral now and dealing with the admin side in the RNAS. He will look after Payne, no problems!”
“Pity about Fitzjames, Troughton. A strange sort of fellow but he had the good of the service in mind, that was for sure.”
“Very much so, Naseby.”
Troughton had had respect but no affection for Fitzjames – he was laid to rest with very few words from him.
“Right, now. You had better spend an hour clearing your desk – Payne has had time enough to get to it by now. Then you will want to wander off to Shoreham, I should imagine.”
“I would rather like to, yes, old chap. I expect Oadby will have a uniform ready for me to walk out in.”
“He will, for sure. Good man, that one.”
“Reliable. Can’t ask for a lot more than that.”
“Knows his way about as well. If he gives advice, it will probably be worth listening to, Naseby. My own chap, Silas, is the same. Been in the Andrew for damned near thirty years, been everywhere and done everything – a font of information.”
Oadby had a walking out uniform ready, correct rank markings and DSO ribbon precisely placed on the breast.
“Need to get hold of another pair of shoes, sir. These are a bit beyond it for walking-out, sir. Need to go to working use, sir.”
“Next time I go home, Oadby. The local man there has got my lasts made up. I suppose I could send a letter ordering a pair made for me, ready to pick up.”
“Yes, sir. Two pairs of black patent, sir. Might be as well to order up a pair of boots, sir. Liable to get muddy out on the field. Boots will be warmer in winter as well.”
“Calf high? Not up to the thigh?”
“Calf should do, sir. Might consider riding leathers, sir. Not uniform, though.”
“No. Too much of a good thing, Oadby. Stick to boots.”
The letter was quickly written and addressed. Oadby would take it to the post.
“Right, sir. Tender is waiting outside, sir. Mr Griffiths has gone off to the station already, off to London for the day, to his family.”
“As he should. The papers have made some mention of him using rifle and machine gun, ‘the skills of a sniper nurtured in the African bush’. True, in fact, but they make it sound so much more than life size.”
“That’s what they are there for, sir. If you want the truth, don’t read the newspapers.”
“What do you do, Oadby?”
“Ask somebody what was there, sir.”
“They’ll just tell you it was a cockup.”
“That’s right, sir. Nine times out of ten, that is. The tenth time, it didn’t happen at all.”
There was no gain to arguing with lower deck wisdom, especially when it came so close to the truth.
Mr Hawes-Parker was stood peering at the sky when Peter arrived.
“’Morning, Naseby. Do think it’s going to rain in the next hour?”
“Probably, yes, sir.”
“That’s what I thought. No cutting the grass today. Three rings up, I see, and a very respectable piece of ribbon! You did well, young man.”
“The right place at the right time, sir.”
“And doing the right thing. What’s the chance of getting another?”
“Almost none, sir. We are not really there to get them – our job is to be seen by them so that they stay underwater. They can only catch up with ships on the surface. They are too slow submerged. They go under to make their final approach. If we can keep them down at a distance, they will not catch our ships. We can force them to work at night only, in effect. In the Channel, that means they will sink very little.”
“Good. Long hours of patrol and nothing to show for it?”
“None of our ships sunk, sir. That’s all we need to show.”
“Are you too senior to pilot a balloon now?”
“In theory, yes, sir. While we are short of pilots, no.”
“Better come inside, I’ve kept you out here too long nattering. My granddaughter will be waiting to see you.” They progressed slowly to the door. “That midshipman of yours did well, Naseby. Brought up in Africa?”
“Went out to the Gold Coast with his parents – merchanting cocoa and palm oil, I believe, came back in early ’14. He grew up there playing with the locals and looked after by the guards. He’s a good shot with a rifle and knew what to do with the Lewis. Older than his years – I doubt he’s seventeen yet he carries himself like a man. I much suspect that the local girls taught him a lot more than one might expect a youngster of that age to know – he has that sort of confidence about him, you know, sir?”
“Saw it in some of my own ensigns, Naseby. Some of ours were country lads and had learned an awful lot in the hay barns with the lasses; others had come from a school and were very little boys. The difference was obvious, as you say. Saw a bit of Africa myself. Sent my papers in after the Zulu War. Not a lot of choice in the matter. My regiment was supposed to be guarding the Prince Imperial on the day the damned fool got himself killed, going out without orders and without his guard. The bloody newspapers howled for blood and had to get it.”
Peter made no comment – there was nothing sensible to be said.
Josephine was sat decorously at the worktable in the second sitting room, making a show of embroidery. She was not doing especially well, judging by the grin on her grandmother’s face.
“Commander Naseby! We hoped, that is I wondered if you might be able to call today.”
“Raining and gusty winds, actual squalls not impossible. The blimps are tucked away in their hangars and their pilots are at leisure, for the first time in two weeks!”
“Is it actually hard labour, flying a balloon? One sees pictures of the old sailing ships with men heaving on ropes and such…”
“No, not hard in that sense. Merely long hours of sitting in a cold cockpit, watchful all the time, trying to keep alert. It is not demanding in the physical sense. It is cold and the rain always trickles down the back of one’s neck and the wind finds some place where one’s pullover does not quite cover the skin. Tedious and tiring yet one must remain awake and watchful at all times. On a dry day with little wind, the sun shining on one’s back – then it is a pleasure cruise, a holiday excursion. For some reason, those days are rare in England!”