Especially one which nobody had really expected to survive. Only when they had steamed in line ahead into the Firth of Forth and passed slowly beneath the great span of bridge on their way to Rosyth dockyard had they realised that things were different yet again.
Several tugs and harbour craft had puffed alongside, their crews waving and cheering. A small launch with a crew of Wrens had come so close that Drummond had had to sound his siren to warn them of the danger of Warlock’s whirling screws and their great undertow. But the Wrens had been cheering like the rest. Waving their caps and laughing. One had been crying and smiling all at once. It had been both moving and confusing.
“Ring off main engines.”
Drummond stepped down from the gratings and removed his cap. He was still unused to the bright gold oak leaves around its peak. It was like playing a part, he thought. Totally at odds with its newsness against all the stained steel and jagged splinter holes’.
Wingate said, “It’s beginning to rain, sir.”
“So I see.” Drummond smiled at him. “And I don’t care, do you?”
Below, on the iron deck, a brow was being made fast to the shore. A postman waited with his sack of mail, peering up at the bridge and tattered ensign. All along the jetty and pier men ambled up and down, calling out to the busy seamen, or merely pausing every so often to study the damage. The true scars of war.
Nosing amidst the confusion of railway lines, puddles and rusty bits of forgotten ships Drummond saw a shining staff car. It would all be starting again now. Explanations, question, advice, worst of all, sympathy.
Feet pounded up a ladder, and Rankin burst on to the quiet bridge.
He held out a newspaper and said breathlessly, “Got this from a chap on the jetty, sir. Thought you’d want to see it right away.”
Drummond unfolded it and held it by the chart table. He could feel the soft rain on his head and neck, but was aware only of the paper’s great headlines. The print was large, as was the picture of a smiling Beaumont in the centre of the page.
“The Hero of — the Conqueror evens the score! After a relentless battle with everything which the enemy could hurl against him, Captain Dudley Beaumont, sole officer survivor of the battleship Conqueror, showed what the Royal Navy could do. In one of the most dramatic and heartening actions, much of which is still secret, Beaumont threw his small force of destroyers against a heavily defended German base on the coast of Norway. Regardless of danger, indifferent to the awesome odds against survival, he was able to complete this daring raid deep into enemy territory with absolute success. Under his skilful control and leadership, the destroyers taking part in the raid were able to wipe out many shore installations, shipping and several enemy aircraft for good measure. Our ships sustained some damage and casualties in the operation. But as Captain Beaumont told our correspondent at an Admiralty briefing, ‘Theirs was a great sacrifice. Mine the honour of being privileged to lead such men.’”
Wingate said quietly, “Well, I’ll go to the top of our stairs!” Rankin exploded, “It’s not right, sir! ” He stared round at the untidy bridge. “Not bloody true either!”
Drummond folded the newspaper. There was more. A whole lot more, with special pictures on the inner pages. Mostly of Beaumont, and one with what looked like a burning ship in the background. It was incredible. Unnerving.
“Must be like this when you come down from heaven to see what they’ve written on your gravestone.” Wingate watched the staff car as it ground to a halt by the brow. “Will you deny any of it, sir?” He seemed dazed. “I mean, you should be the one…”
Drummond said, “Some of it is window dressing, of course.”
But the words seemed to stick in his throat. He kept seeing the flames and smoke, hearing the amazed voices around him when it had been learned that Beaumont was staying outside the fjord.
“Chief Operations Officer and Captain of the Dockyard are coming aboard, sir.”
“Very well. I’ll come down and meet them. Tell Owles to get some drinks ready.”
At the brow he found Sheridan waiting with a hastily mustered side party. As they raised their hands in salute to the distinguished looking visitors Drummond looked at Sheridan’s expression. Just for an instant he thought he saw something like triumph. What did I tell you?
The senior captain strode forward and gripped his hand.
“Welcome, Commander Drummond! To you and your ships! The whole country is proud of you!”
The operations officer added quietly, “Captain Beaumont has spoken well of your part. Your efforts played no small part in the final success, I gather.” It sounded like a question.
“Thank you, sir.” Drummond gestured towards the lobby door. “If you will come below. Out of the rain.” He beckoned to Sheridan. “Send a quick R.P.C. to the other commanding officers.” He glanced at the two captains. “If you have no objection?”
“I should think not indeed. Brave chaps, the whole lot of them. From what Captain Beaumont has already said, I think they followed his ideas very well.”
Galbraith had been on his way aft from the engine room hatch. He was even dirtier than usual. He heard the captain’s last words and exclaimed, “Some might even have been ahead of his ideas, sir!”
The operations officer studied him coldly. “What was that?”
“Carry on, Chief.” Drummond shook his head. “Later.”
To the others he said quietly, “My engineer officer has had very little rest.”
Some of the offended look disappeared from the captain’s face. “Oh yes. I quite understand.”
Oh no you don’t. He said, “Now, if you will follow me, gentlemen.”
In the wardroom the air was thick with noise, excitement and smoke. Apart from Warlock’s officers, there were a few dockyard officials, a visiting lieutenant or two from H. Q., and one hazel-eyed Wren second officer from the signals department on the admiral’s staff. Against the scuttles the rain was sheeting down, blotting out the other ships nearby, the dockyard, everything.
Wingate tossed back a neat gin and let it burn his mouth before swallowing it completely.
He said to Rankin, “Drink up, Guns. Helps you to forget.”
He listened to the base electrical officer who was pumping Tyson for information.
Tyson said stiffly, “It was touch and go for a bit, I can tell you. The Jerries were pretty mad after they found out what we were doing. Threw everything at us but the kitchen sink.” He gave a dramatic shudder. “I’ve seen some sights, I can tell you.”
The electrical officer, who had only been to sea once in his life, nodded gravely. “I can imagine.”
Rankin said, “Jesus!”
Wingate turned slightly to call for a steward and saw Keyes just inside the door. They had been almost too busy to speak beyond matters of routine during the long haul from Seydisfjord, but Wingate knew the reason for Keyes’ disappointment. There had been no letter waiting for him when the ship had returned to Iceland. Nothing from Georgina. Naturally.
He watched the midshipman narrowly. Keyes had changed without anyone noticing. But then they had been rather busy. He felt the same prick behind his eyes as he had when he had almost broken down in the skipper’s cabin. It must have been a million times worse for Keyes.
Keyes looked older. Leaner.
He called him over. “Here, Allan. Come and join the drunks!”
Keyes pushed past the chattering visitors. “I couldn’t decide. I thought I might stay in the cabin.”
“Rubbish!” Rankin was halfway to oblivion. “Don’t you read the bloody papers? We’re all heroes!”
Wingate said, “Leave it, Guns.” To Keyes he added, “What’s the trouble?”