A brief conversation on routine and they hung up, Peter calling for Bracegirdle.
“You and Norris are to go across to Captain Troughton at Folkestone today. In the next hour. Bags and baggage. You are bound for Howden, up on the Humber. You will take over in the rank of lieutenant commander, which is yours as of now. Go and get a half ring put up. Congratulations – very well deserved. Ask Davies to poke his head in my door.”
Davies arrived at the run, hoping to hear of promotion, delighted when told it was real.
“Might overtake old Horrocks yet, sir!”
“Possible but unlikely. He is among the next in line to be made up. Six months at least before you can look for a second ring, Davies. Ask Tubbs to come over, please.”
A very short wait – the word was out that promotions were in the air.
“Two things, Tubbs. Most important, to you, you are substantive lieutenant with immediate effect. That makes you number two to me as Bracegirdle is off to the depths of darkest Yorkshire. More significant, to me, is that we have a change in operational orders. We are instructed to patrol out towards the Bay of Biscay, searching for ocean-going submarines that have broken through the Channel and are en route for the Atlantic. They will be making speed on the surface as much as they can and we are at minimum to drive them under and slow them. A day of submerged travel will cut a hole in the length of time they can remain out on station. I want a proposal from you for how best we can organise five blimps on patrol without unnecessary overlap. I will be happy to listen to unconventional suggestions. A full, written scheme for tomorrow, if you please.”
“That’s not much time, sir!”
“It is all the time a lieutenant needs, Tubbs!”
The boy managed to laugh as he made his departure.
Horrocks came in, was promoted and shook his head in amaze, wondered if he might not end up an admiral.
Bracegirdle left, sat solemnly in the front seat of a tender; Norris, balanced behind, tucked in between suitcases and a trunk under the canvas tilt, yelled his goodbyes and prophesies of good hunting in the North Sea. The boy managed to crouch into a half-stand and salute as he passed Peter but he could not control the grin on his face.
“I knew an American a few years ago, sir. Relative of sorts who came across to England for a couple of months. Said it was called ‘going off to see the elephant’ where he came from.”
“Let’s hope the elephant doesn’t trample him, Farnsworth. The North Sea is big and cold and has German seaplanes over in the east.”
That was true, Farnsworth conceded.
“I took a couple of patrols out while you were absent, sir. Just to see what it felt like. It will be useful to have a spare body over winter – never know if the ‘flu might hit us. Bound to be colds and that…”
“Officially, it’s still no. If operational needs arise then it may be all hands to the pumps. Is your Morse up to scratch?”
“It will be, sir. Slow at the moment.”
“Improve it. You are happy with a Lewis?”
“I know what to do but I haven’t fired one much, sir.”
“Have a word with Handsworth. Chances are you will never need to. If you do, you must be handy.”
It would be useful to have a spare body available. Peter thought a few minutes, returned to the telephone.
“Captain Troughton please.”
A short delay and the connection was made.
“Sir, you said you had a plethora of mids going spare. Just occurred to me that we might make use of a spare hand or two to rotate among the crews. If we get an epidemic, ‘flu or something, very useful. These patrols out to Biscay may be very long as well. It might make sense to be able to rest the men occasionally.”
Troughton almost wept with relief; he could find a use for the sprogs infesting his offices.
“Two more will reach you this afternoon. I have sent the first pair off already. Makes good sense and I can get rid of a dozen of the little buggers around the other bases with a clear conscience. Leave the offices far less cluttered. What are you planning for the new patrols?”
“Tubbs has a scheme in hand for me – all very mathematical, no doubt, and making best use to cover as much area as possible and thoroughly. What will there be in the way of surface ships, sir?”
“Insufficient, I do not doubt. I hope to have a light cruiser and half a dozen destroyers made available. If it can be arranged, you will be given wireless contact with the cruiser. Not Calliope, by the way.”
“Wiser that way, sir. I doubt very much that I am a favourite of old Savage, particularly now that I match him for rank.”
Troughton laughed.
“He won’t like to hear that he put you in the way of two rapid promotions by throwing you off his ship. I wonder… Might be possible to ensure that word reaches his ears. I must know someone up at Scapa who can accidentally bump into him and mention your rise to glory. Do him no end of good!”
Another naval feud – the service was full of them, possibly because of the boredom of sitting in idleness at anchor for months on end. The Grand Fleet barely shifted from Scapa, occasional squadrons going out to gunnery practice and nothing else to give them an interest. Peter was delighted now that he had avoided Scapa.
“Any word on the Big Smash, sir?”
“The meeting of the two fleets and the second Trafalgar that must result? Increasingly unlikely. Neither high command wants it – one miscalculation on the day and the war could be over. If the Germans lose massively, it will be possible to send a fleet into the Baltic to end the Swedish iron ore trade and bombard in support of the Russians; we might possibly land an army on the Friesian shores. If we lose, then the blockade is finished and German surface warships will enter the Atlantic, ending all trade with the States. Too big a risk for either side to take. Add to that, Jellicoe is not a man to take a chance and Beatty is incapable of commanding a battle fleet, as he showed at Dogger Bank. No big battle unless the Germans choose to come out into the North Sea. If the blockade starts to bite – as it will increasingly – they may be forced to make a sortie. Two chances out of three favour us.”
Peter could not entirely follow that logic.
“If we win – we are on top. If we fight a draw and force them back into harbour, the blockade remains unbroken, which is a win for us. Only if we are defeated in battle, losing a substantial number of battleships so that we cannot hold the blockade, will Germany win.”
“So stalemate, as it stands at the moment, is victory for us.”
“Just that, Naseby. We win as long as we don’t lose.”
“That was the reality from 1805 to 1815, was it not, sir? The blockade was not broken and there was no major battle for the ten years.”
“While we can blockade Europe, we cannot be defeated.”
“Nice thought, sir. Can we win the war?”
“Different matter, Naseby. Too complex for a mere captain.”
“And for me, sir. I see a Crossley coming through the gate with brand spanking new uniforms in the back. I suspect I am to be descended upon by midshipmen.”
Two bright, shiny, keen objects were ushered into the office. Neither looked more than ten years old to Peter’s jaundiced eye.
“Midshipman Kirby, sir.”
“Patterson, sir.”
“I presume you are senior, Kirby?”
“Yes, sir. By one day, sir.”
“Sometimes useful to know that sort of thing. Not very important here. You will be flying as second hands to Lieutenants Davies and Horrocks.”
Kirby leaned forward in confidential fashion.
“I say, sir, I did hear that Horrocks was a matelot, a rating turned into a sort of officer. Not the type for my family! If you don’t mind, sir, I would prefer not to fly with him.”