Douglas Reeman - In Danger's Hour

The men returning early from local leave would either be broke or disillusioned by Chatham’s shabby hospitality. A sailors’ town, where landladies charged them good money for the privilege of sleeping three in a bed with a cup of weak tea and a wad of bread and dripping before they plodded back to the barracks. Men serving in ships preferred to come back early. Like Rob Roy’s people; she was their home.

Leading Seaman Reeves said, ‘I was a bit surprised about Tinker.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘No, I mean that Fallows allowed him to go ashore after what you said.

‘ What?’

The chief quartermaster fell back a pace. ‘Thought you knew, P.O.!’ He forced a smile. ‘No skin off your nose. Bunny is actin’ O.O.D.’

Clarke looked away towards the brow as the first lurching figures groped across.

i wasn’t thinkin’ of that. It’s the kid I’m bothered about.’

Reeves shrugged. ‘Well, you told him, so did Ted Hoggan the killick of his mess. So wot else can you do, I asks you?’

The liberty men glanced around on the darkened deck to make sure there was no officer present, then made their way forward to their messdeck. One said thickly, ‘That bird you picked up, Fred – she was so uglyl I know you’ve never been fussy, but God, ’er face!’

The other man mumbled, ‘You don’t look at the bloody mantelpiece when you poke the fire, do you? Well then!’

Reeves groaned, ‘Sailors, I’ve shot ’em!’

It was nearly midnight when Hargrave eventually returned on board. It had been something of a triumph to share the evening with his father’s friends. Both were flag officers, and one was well known for his appearances in the press and on newsreels.

Even the thought of returning to Rob Roy had seemed unimportant.

His father had spoken to him privately before he had left barracks.

‘Ours is a true naval family, Trevor. Things might have been different in the ordinary way, but we must think of the future, eh?’

By ‘things’ Hargrave knew he had been referring to the fact that he had had three daughters. He was the only male to follow in the family footsteps.

‘War is terrible, we know that, Trevor. But when it’s over, all these other chaps will go back to their proper jobs again – the navy will be just a memory, an experience in which they will be proud to have made a contribution.’ He had leaned forward and tapped his knee, his breath smelling hotly of brandy and cigars.

‘So we must use the time to benefit ourselves, and of course the service. It’s why I want you to get a command, not bugger about in a damn great cruiser, don’t you see? You were found unsuitable for submarines, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that, and you’ve not time to make up the experience anywhere else but in small ships like Rob Roy. As a regular executive officer you stand out. Be patient, and I promise you a chance to walk your own bridge within months!’

Like speaking with the two flag officers, it was as if Hargrave had been lifted a few feet higher than he had been before. Provided he could stay in one piece, and that applied in any ship, he would have his father’s promise to sustain him.

To his surprise he found the Chief alone in the wardroom drinking black coffee.

‘I thought you were staying ashore for the night, Chief?’

Campbell looked at him coldly. ‘Lucky I changed my mind then, isn’t it?’

‘What’s happened?’

Campbell stood up and walked to the fireplace. ‘I had to do Rounds. It’s not my job, Number One.’

‘Look—’ Hargrave could feel his irritation rising. ‘This isn’t a bloody trade union, not yet anyway! Any officer should be capable of—’

‘It’s not a question of being capable.’ Campbell faced him angrily. ‘This ship has a fine reputation, everyone knows that. I came back on board to find the Acting-O.O.D. smashed out of his mind, spewing his guts up over the side, and the officer responsible ashore at the barracks! So be good enough not to lecture me about capability!’

Hargrave snapped, ‘I think we’ve both said enough.’

The Chief strode to the door. ‘And Ordinary Seaman Tinker’s adrift, by the way.’ He vanished, leaving the curtain swirling in his wake.

Hargrave sat down heavily. ‘Bloody hell!’ He saw the mess-man watching from the pantry hatch. ‘Horse’s Neck!’

‘Bar’s shut, sir.’

‘Well, open it? He stared hard at the deckhead. Nothing must spoil it. Tinker had deserted. Perhaps it was inevitable. He would speak with Petty Officer Clarke about the facts.

He took the glass from the messman. ‘Thanks.’

The man eyed him anxiously. ‘Mr Fallows’s mess chits, sir.’

‘What about them?’

‘He’s not signed for his drinks.’

‘I see.’ The distinguished faces of the admirals at dinner were already fading, out of reach. ‘Leave it to me.’

Just a few more months and all this would be behind him. Tomorrow he would sort out Mr Bunny Fallows. But that could wait.

A command of his own. It was still uppermost in his thoughts when he fell asleep.

Ian Ransome stared at his reflection in the mirror and automatically adjusted his tie. The house seemed so quiet, as if it was waiting for him to go.

His father stood by the door, one arm around his wife’s shoulder.

He said, ‘Six days, Ian. That’s all you’ve had.’

Ransome watched his own expression in the glass as he might a face across the requestmen’s table.

He had worked hard on Barracuda, and the weather had remained fine, so that each night, after going over to The Lugger for a pint with his father, he had fallen into bed, and had slept undisturbed. Something he had not believed possible.

Then there had been the telephone call. He was required on board. He had made his last visit to the boat, had touched the smooth hull with affection, even love.

Old Jack WeeSe had watched him. It’s breaking his heart, he had thought. For once, he doesn’t want to go back.

Ransome wanted to tell his parents all about it, but he knew he would crack lip if he did, and that might finish his mother.

Now, in pressed doeskin uniform with the single blue and white medal ribbon, a crisp clean shirt which his mother had washed and ironed for him, he was back in the role again. The naval officer. The captain of Rob Roy.

His mother said again, ‘Surely someone else could manage while you were away, dear?’

His father tried to change the subject. ‘I’ll run you to the station in the van. It’ll not be breaking the patrol rationing regulations. I’ve got some gear to deliver there.’

Ransome looked round the room, half expecting to see the old cat Jellicoe*But he had long gone, and was buried with the other pets in the special place they had chosen as youngsters.

He recalled the same feeling when he had left his day cabin to go to the bridge on that day. Then too he had glanced around. Was it the last time? As it had been for Guillemot and Fawn?

He faced them and smiled. ‘Off then. Might be back before too long.’

His mother watched him. ‘I’ve packed some sandwiches for you.’

‘Thanks.’ He gazed at them fondly, despairingly. Going back. I don’t want to go.

He thought of the telephone call, the unknown voice of an officer at Chatham.

It had been discovered early in the morning. A young seaman, doing extra work as a man under punishment, had been inspecting the air-raid shelters, checking each one to make certain that all the light bulbs were working. He had apparently run gasping to the main gates to call the officer of the guard, nearly beside himself with terror.