They could not, sympathised with Christopher for the hardships he had suffered.
Black Prince steamed into Queensferry, beneath the great bridge and into the hands of the dockyard. Everything valuable was locked away, the officers clearing their cabins and the stewards taking ashore all alcohol from the wardroom. The yard hands were renowned for their light fingers, would steal anything that was left unguarded.
Christopher took all of his navigating equipment, down to the last pencil, and placed it in the safe in the Commander’s offices.
“Past experience, sir. I was on Iron Duke when she was fitting out, as a sub. I saw what happened there. Couldn’t stop the thefts, no matter what we tried or how many we caught and placed under arrest. Gunmetal, bronze and brass fittings and valves disappeared damned near as fast as they were put in place. At one stage we had pickets on the engine rooms, searching every dockyard matey as they left the ship. They seemed outraged that we stopped them – ‘perks’ they said it was. Tradition, they had always done it, believe it or not! Led to a strike once when we put six of them in front of the magistrates and saw them sent to gaol.”
The Commander shook his head while agreeing that he had seen the same, more than once.
“Should have the yards under military discipline, Adams. While we employ civilians, no telling what they will get up to.”
It was obviously so.
“Won’t be like this in Germany, I will wager!”
Christopher did not know. Considering the Prussian reputation for discipline, he had to admit it was unlikely.
Two days and he was off on leave, taking the night sleeper south, enjoying peacetime standards of luxury – the LNER did not believe in austerity for its passengers. There was much to be said for a leisurely dinner followed by a nightcap of best single malt Scotch before retiring to a comfortable bunk. Breakfast running through the Home Counties and then leaving the train with a whole day ahead of one – ideal for a businessman and comfortable for an officer with the money to afford it. Christopher took pains not to notice lesser mortals emerging from the carriages where they had dozed upright in their seats.
There were still taxis available for the relatively few who emerged from the sleepers; the rest of the passengers used ‘buses or the Underground.
It was a delight to return to the world of privilege that he feared had been lost forever.
The butler welcomed him and nodded to a limping footman to collect his luggage – not much, a mere pair of suitcases as he must visit his tailor as a matter of urgency.
“My father at home, Buckley?”
“In his study, sir. You are to go to him.”
Not so easy, readying himself for the first meeting. He squared his shoulders and glanced at his uniform to see all was proper before pacing down the hallway and knocking before entering.
“Christopher! Good to see you home, boy! You are thinner than you were, I think.”
“The Red Sea, sir. It pares away every ounce of excess flesh.”
“Never been that way, myself. It has a bad name. It saved yours, however – well done. You should have had more than a Mention, as you know. Not to worry! What’s past is past and your brother Jeremy is aware of his foolishness! Won’t see him while you’re here – he has been working in the Party and has been sent off to America as a junior minister to discuss trade. After that, he’s bound for Canada with his delegation, talking about wheat, I gather. Good for him! I am still somewhat upset with him for destroying your naval career! He should have known better, damned fool!”
“A mistake, sir, made with no ill-intention.”
“Good of you to say so, Christopher. I have been thinking about your future, I would add. Can’t be in the services. Could be in motor vehicles. Cars. Going to be thousands of them on the roads after the war, bound to be. Not a deal of money in making them, I suspect, but a fortune in looking after them. Seems to me that we will need a garage in every town, more than one for some places, selling oil and petrol, and offering repair and maintenance. A countrywide network all selling our own fuel by arrangement with the big oil companies. I would not be surprised if we ended up with three or four hundred garages across the country, with the chance of each one making a thousand or so in profit! It would need a keen young brain in charge, part of the modern age, not an old hangover from Victorian days such as myself. What do you think? A damned good income for you and a money-spinner for the family.”
“What an excellent idea, sir! A lot of work, especially in the early years, but well worthwhile. I would be more than glad to assist, sir.”
“Hoped you might!”
“What of Arthur, sir? Will he be up to a busy life?”
The Viscount’s face clouded. He shook his head brusquely.
“It’s a quiet existence on the estate for him, Christopher. He might be sufficiently active to do some of the work of running the farms. Chances are he will spend his days sitting out on the balcony, looking out over the hills. It’s all he can do to walk downstairs from his room to sit at table. His lungs are gone. He might just recover to be able to sit a horse – I don’t know and neither do the doctors. He must spend most of his life in the clean air of the countryside, that is a certainty.”
“Is he out of bed during the day?”
“Not at this time of the morning. Another couple of hours before you will see him downstairs.”
“How did he come to be in the firing line, sir? I had thought him to be on the staff.”
“He was, doing rather well and set up to become major very soon. There was a report that the Germans were advancing under the cover of poison gas – chlorine, I believe – and that the men were breaking before it. His general did not believe it, could not imagine that even the Hun would stoop so low, and Arthur volunteered to go forward and discover the reality. It would seem that he found out the hard way.”
“Poor chap. No such thing as a gasmask, is there?”
“They exist, the Germans have them! None have been issued to British forces. I am told that the possibility was canvassed and was turned down as too expensive – a quarter of a million masks initially and an ongoing supply of as many again each year. At least forty thousand pounds.”
It was a large sum of money, Christopher admitted.
“It is nothing, Christopher! We are spending as much as a million a day already, purely on the war! It might be more, probably is, but the accounting systems have failed under the strain. How much is being syphoned off into private pockets, God alone knows! We are short of shells for the artillery and the Navy both; even basic items of uniform are not always available; prices are rocketing, as far a government contracts are concerned. Nothing to be done about it, either! Lloyd George will have no part in a policing of the system, says we must accept a little of criminality as the price of a massive expansion of production.”
“I presume, sir, that means he is taking a cut himself?”
“Some, undoubtedly. He mostly accepts other sorts of favours – the man is sexually insatiable, it seems!”
“Unpleasant, sir! One generally expects that sort of thing to be conducted discreetly, not in the apparent open view of all in Whitehall!”
“Not quite that bad, Christopher. Nearly so. Not our sort at all, Lloyd George. Strange thing is, he is also honest in his determination to improve the lot of the ordinary man. I speak to him most weeks in the way of business and there can be no doubt of his integrity in that way. A man of two personalities, one might say. I do not understand him, at all.”
The Navy had left Christopher with a fine sense of right and wrong, of black and white; he could not comprehend a person who was both.