Andrew Wareham - End to Illusion

“Good. Talk to the new First when he arrives. Mr Higgins, Mr Waller!”

The two ran to the bridge.

“Just showing Mr Waller the twelve pounders, sir.”

“Quite correct, Mr Higgins. Congratulations to you both on last night’s showing. You each have a Mention. While I think of it, Mr Rees, so do you.”

They were pleased, Higgins especially so.

“I shall write home immediately, sir. The mater will be delighted!”

It would seem that she frequently was.

“So am I. Did I see you on the port Lewises, Mr Higgins, while Mr Waller had the starboard?”

“Yes, sir. The bridge lookout broke his arm when the wave hit us, so I took them for him.”

“Well done! Where is he? I did not see him go down to the wardroom for treatment.”

“No, sir. He tied his arm up and tucked it into his shirt and stayed on duty until we came in. Mr Parrett sent him off to the hospital while you were away, sir.”

“We sail this afternoon, so he will probably not get back aboard. I will make sure SNO is told the story. Good man!”

The bridge messenger ran a note across to SNO before they sailed and came back with the answer that the man in question would be ‘looked after’.

“By the way, Higgins, I did not congratulate you on your initiative in taking over the Lewises. That’s the sort of thing I like to see in a young officer. It tells me that you’re making the grade, young man!”

Simon shook his head – he sounded the pompous old salt speaking to his grandson, not to a youngster barely two years his junior.

‘Getting old before me time!’

He gave orders for making ready to sail.

“Yeoman – Starling and Grouse to conform.”

That was his first order to the other ships – he was actually in charge of another one hundred and forty men and two more ships and soon to have a third added. There was much to be said for the Navy! He thought then that Baker had a whole battalion, more than eight hundred under his command – he had a way to go to match that man. His lady was prettier, though, even if not quite as intelligent as Baker’s. He grinned as he wondered just how turbulent a marriage Baker might have; he suspected he would be content with Alice.

Leading, first in line, two other ships, soon to be three, obedient to him. It was heady stuff, slightly lessened by having to stand watches in the absence of a Number One. That would be for a few hours only, he expected.

Into Harwich, mooring up in the creek, all as normal.

“Signal, sir. Captain Sheldrake report to Commodore.”

As expected.

“Boat, Mr Waller!”

The boy ran, still new and taken by surprise by the order. The Coxswain had mustered his crew already and they were alongside and waiting for him.

Simon said nothing; the Coxswain was willing to give Waller a hand, evidently thought the boy was worth helping.

Commodore Tyrwhitt was welcoming, glad to see another decoration for Simon, pleased with his promotion, sure he brought nothing but good to the Navy.

“Don’t get comfortable, Sturton! Sheldrake is posted to the Med. You are not. You will have Lancelot as section leader with three other ‘L’ Class boats. Harwich Patrol still, working out of Harwich more than Dunkerque. Take over when she comes in tomorrow. What about young Parrett? A bit junior to take one of your boats, I would think.”

“Too inexperienced for Grouse, in my honest opinion, sir. He will do better in the Med, learning for six months. Bring him back to the Patrol at the end of the year, sir.”

“Right enough! The boy’s a friend of yours, is he not?”

“He is, sir. His sister something more than that, on the quiet, sir.”

“Better not to marry too young in the Navy, Sturton!”

“Not till I make commander, sir.”

“At the rate you are going, that might not be too long, Sturton!”

“I have been lucky, sir.”

“You have. Deserving as well. Work your section up and be ready to take them out to the Broad Fourteens next week. Won’t be much going on there. Just a patrol for two or three days for the exercise. Two weeks after that, back on the Belgian coast, see what’s what around Zeebrugge again. What we have in mind is to bombard not so far from Ostend and have a small force – you – in ambush outside Zeebrugge in the hope that something will come down the coast.”

“It could work, sir.”

“Worth trying.”

Tyrwhitt called in the newspapers at that point – photographs and the normal meaningless questions, an hour wasted before they were chivvied out to their train.

“Necessary, Sturton. Christ alone knows why!”

“It amuses the Admiralty, sir. Ours is not to reason further than that.”

“No more it is, Sturton. On that topic, you will be glad to know that dear little Mr Higgins is to follow you aboard Lancelot. By order from above! There is much delight that he has a genuinely earned Mention. You need a mid, Lancelot’s boy showing too frail for the boats. Do you want the lad you’ve got just now?”

“Waller? Yes, he’s good. A Mention in his first week at sea has delighted him, of course, and he will work even harder now. Sub by autumn, I would expect. He’ll serve to push Higgins as well, always breathing down his neck. What’s the Gunner like on Lancelot, sir?”

“Don’t know. I have been told nothing of him, which suggests good enough and no more. Is your man a favourite?”

“Rees? Rock solid, sir. Knows it all and will lend a hand wherever he can. Well liked in the boat – a good officer. I would like him, sir – make up for having to have Higgins!”

“I shall send the orders later today. Sheldrake will have new officers who have come down from Scapa, given the chance to alternate with the rest of the world. A winter aboard a destroyer in Scapa is a hardship for any man – they deserve a rotation. They will come aboard with the First Dog – always a convenient time to make a change.”

“I will have my cabin empty, sir.”

“Best if you can. Very quick handover – McDonald knows his way about a boat, won’t need much, and he has his own First with him. I will send out a sub and a mid from the base here. Gunner to come from Lancelot tomorrow, of course.”

An hour of wider-ranging discussion of the war in the North Sea and Simon was sent back to Sheldrake where he begged permission to enter the wardroom, squeezing himself in and closing the door for official privacy. Every word they said would be heard by a dozen nearby hands but they had to show willing.

“First, gentlemen, we have done very well and we are all well-loved, for the while. The newspapers will tell us we are heroes tomorrow.”

The steward poked his head in.

“Tea, sir?”

“Please.”

They waited for the mugs to arrive.

“Right, gentlemen, now for the news. I have been given Lancelot as section-leader. My replacement arrives with the First Dog.”

They congratulated him on moving to a bigger boat.

“Secondly, Sheldrake is off to the Med.”

Warmer and quieter. Far from home. Swings and roundabouts, nothing they could do about it.

“Third, none of you are going with her.”

They showed interested, wondering what the Admiralty had in store for them.

“Mr Rees, you are to take over as Lancelot’s Gunner, at my request.”

“That’s good of you, sir. Thank you! Four tubes, two twins. Three four inch QF and a forecastle high enough that the forward gun can normally be used. A Maxim as well. Has she got Lewises, do you know, sir?”

“I hope so – they have shown useful. If not, I shall ask for them while I am still the blue-eyed boy.”

They laughed, accepting that it was not a joke.

“Mr Higgins, you will follow me, as will Mr Waller. Again, at my request.”